“And avaricious! she costs me a hundred and ninety-two thousand francs a year!” cried Hulot.
“And how many centimes!” sneered Crevel, with the insolence of a financier who scorns so small a sum.
“You do not love her, that is very evident,” said the Baron dolefully.
“I have had enough of her,” replied Crevel, “for she has had more than three hundred thousand francs of mine!”
“Where is it? Where does it all go?” said the Baron, clasping his head in his hands.
“If we had come to an agreement, like the simple young men who combine to maintain a twopenny baggage, she would have cost us less.”
“That is an idea”! replied the Baron. “But she would still be cheating us; for, my burly friend, what do you say to this Brazilian?”
“Ay, old sly fox, you are right, we are swindled like—like shareholders!” said Crevel. “All such women are an unlimited liability, and we the sleeping partners.”
“Then it was she who told you about the candle in the window?”
“My good man,” replied Crevel, striking an attitude, “she has fooled us both. Valerie is a—She told me to keep you here.—Now I see it all. She has got her Brazilian!—Oh, I have done with her, for if you hold her hands, she would find a way to cheat you with her feet! There! she is a minx, a jade!”