“Marry! No!” he returned. “Pardon! You know him well! You have perhaps a kindness for him! I should not have allowed myself to speak!” She remembered remarks made by Olivia which had puzzled her. Drawing an audible breath, she said: “It does not signify. I understand you, I suppose. Jack wishes her to be his mistress. And you—loving her as you say you do! —will permit this?”
He raised his head, saying hotly: “What can I do? Do you imagine that madame her mother would for one little instant entertain my suit, if she knew the truth? That I have neither title nor fortune! That my father is the proprietor of a maison de jeu—what you call a gaming-house!”
“Good God!” said Kitty, rather faintly. “D-does Olivia know this?” “She knows all! Could you believe me capable of deceiving one whom I worship? Of stealing her from her mother cl la derobdel No! I am not so infamous! I do not conceal from you that I came to England an adventurer! It is known that if one is of—of bonne tenue, bien ne, riche, and above all French—c’est drole, cflf—one may be bien-venu in London! To be French, that bestows upon one a cachet!— It is known, then, that with these qualities one may do very well in England.” He spread out his hands. “De plus, in my childhood I lived here. I know England; I can speak the language with fluency. Perhaps I have not always the right idiom, or the accent, but that, chere Kitty, is regarded by the English as fort attrayantl”
“Yes, but I don’t understand. Did you—did you come to England to marry an heiress?” asked Kitty wonderingly.
“To seek my fortune, let us say.”
“Lady Maria? Camille, was it to pay your addresses to her that you came?”
“Ah, no! My meeting with Lady Maria was a coup de bonheur. Naturally, I am interested in ladies of large fortune, but of her existence I did not know until I was presented to her.”
This frank exposition of his aims very much shocked Miss Charing. She uttered a protest. “Oh, pray do not—! Surely you cannot mean to offer for Lady Maria! How could you bear to be married to her? I cannot believe it of you!”
“Marriage!” he said, smiling. “My dear little cousin, do you think that that would be permitted? If she would consent—eh bien, one must resign oneself! But I find her a woman insufferably proud, and I think she could not support the mortification of having so plainly encouraged the advances of one who is not—how shall I say?—a chevalier d’honneur, but a chevalier d’ Industrie.”
She gazed at him uncomprehendingly. “No, indeed! I think she would die of shame! But—”