"Saved!" exclaimed Florestan, joyously,—"saved!" Then he continued, after a moment's reflection: "Saved—almost—no matter—it is always so. Perhaps this evening I shall tell him of the other thing. He is in the vein, and will not allow a first sacrifice to become useless for lack of a second. Yet why should I tell him? Who will ever know it? Yet, if nothing should be discovered, I shall keep the money he will give me to pay this last debt. I had some work to move him. The bitterness of his sarcasms made me suspicious of his good resolution; but my threat of suicide, the fear of seeing his name dishonoured, decided him. That was the way to hit him. No doubt he is not so poor as he appears to be. But his arrival was indeed a godsend. Now, then, for the man of law!"
He rang the bell, and M. Boyer appeared.
"How was it that you did not inform me that my father was here? Really, this is most negligent."
"Twice I endeavoured to address your lordship when you came in by the garden gate with M. Badinot, but your lordship made me a sign with your hand not to interrupt you. I did not venture to insist. I should be very much grieved if your lordship should impute negligence to me."
"Very well. Desire Edwards to harness Orion or Ploughboy in the cabriolet immediately."
M. Boyer made a respectful bow. As he was about to quit the room, some one knocked. He looked at the vicomte with an inquiring air.
"Come in!" said Florestan.
A second valet de chambre appeared, bearing in his hand a small silver-gilt waiter. M. Boyer took hold of the waiter with a kind of jealous haste, and presented it to the vicomte, who took from it a thick packet, sealed with black wax.
The two servants withdrew discreetly.
Florestan broke open the envelope. It contained twenty-five thousand francs in treasury bills, but not a word of writing.