"Oh, perfectly!" said Valentine, cutting him short. "You are in love, and you are seeking the object of your love; that's understood: but that does not at all interfere with our projects—quite the contrary."
"How is that?"
"Pardieu! that's plain enough. You know, do you not, that Doña Rosario—that's her name, I think—"
"Yes."
"Very well, then; you know she is rich, do you not?"
"There's no doubt of that."
"Ay, ay! but be it understood, not rich as with us: that is to say, some fifty thousand francs a year—a paltry pittance!—but rich as people are here—a dozen times over millionaires!"
"Probably she may be," the young man said impatiently.
"That's capital! You must understand, then, that when we have found her, for we shall find her, and that soon, you can only demand her hand by producing a fortune equal to her own."
"The devil! I never thought of that," said the young man.