“No,” answered the Norman, “not yet. We will see about that hereafter.”
Chavigni’s cheek reddened, and his brow knit into a heavy frown. “No evasions, Sir. I commanded you, when you took her away last night from Chantilly, to marry her directly, and you agreed to do so. Why is it not done?”
“If the truth must be told, Monseigneur, it is not done, because it goes against a Norman gentleman’s stomach to take up with any body’s cast-offs.”
“Do not be insolent, Sir,” cried the Statesman. “Did I not give you my honour that your suspicion was false? Know, Sir, that though Chavigni may sometimes condescend to converse with you, or may appear to trifle for a moment with a girl like this Louise, it is merely to gain some greater object that he does so; and that unless it be for some State purpose, he never honours such beings with his thoughts.”
“Well, well, Monseigneur,” replied the other, seeing the fire that flashed in his Lord’s eye, “I will marry her: Foy de Normand! Don’t be angry; I will marry her.”
“Foy de Normand! will not do,” said Chavigni. “It must be this very night.”
“Eh bien! Eh bien! Soit,” cried the Norman, and then muttered to himself with a grin, “I’ve four wives now living; a fifth won’t make much difference.”
“What murmur you, Sir?” demanded the Statesman. “Mark me! in one hour from hence you will find a priest and two witnesses in the Cardinal’s chapel! When you are married, the priest will give you a certificate of the ceremony, carry it to my intendant, and upon the sight of it he will pay you the sum we agree upon. Now, proceed with your demands.”
“Well then, Monseigneur,” continued Marteville, “what is the information concerning Mademoiselle’s coming to Paris worth?”
“It is worth a good deal,” replied Chavigni, “and I will always pay more for knowledge of that kind than any acts of brute force. Set that down for a hundred crowns, and fifty more for catching the young lady, and bringing her here; making altogether two hundred and fifty.”