"An old soldier, now on the retired list,—twenty campaigns, ten wounds,—now a man of affairs, merely to pass away the time. I have a number of large capitalists as backers, and I often act as an intermediary between them and young men of prospective wealth."
"Then I do not know of any service you can render me."
"You say that, when you are leading a life of drudgery as a notary's clerk, when you are vegetating—positively vegetating—living in a miserable attic with your father, and dressed, Heaven knows how!"
"Monsieur!" exclaimed Louis, fairly purple with indignation.
"Excuse me, my young friend, but these are, I regret to say, the real facts of the case, shameful as they appear. Why, a young man like you ought to be spending twenty-five or thirty thousand francs a year, ought to have his horses and mistresses and enjoy life generally."
"Monsieur, if this is intended as a joke, I warn you that I am in no mood for it," said Louis, angrily.
"As I have already told you, I am an old soldier who has proved his valour on many a well-fought field, my young friend, so I can afford not to take offence at your manner, for which there is plenty of excuse, I must admit, as what I am saying must seem rather extraordinary to you."
"Very extraordinary, monsieur."
"Here is something that may serve to convince you that I am speaking seriously," added the man of affairs, spreading out the thousand franc notes on his desk. "Here are twenty-five thousand francs that I should be delighted to place at your disposal, together with twenty-five hundred francs a month for the next five years."
Louis, unable to believe his own ears, gazed at M. de la Miraudière in speechless astonishment, but at last, partially recovering from his stupor, he said: