“My sine qua non,” said Cointet, “since we are speaking in foreign languages.”
“Then here is mine in plain language,” Petit-Claud said drily.
“Ah! let us have it,” answered Cointet, with some curiosity.
“You will present me to-morrow to Mme. de Sononches, and do something definite for me; you will keep your word, in short; or I will clear off Séchard’s debts myself, sell my practice, and go into partnership with him. I will not be duped. You have spoken out, and I am doing the same. I have given proof, give me proof of your sincerity. You have all, and I have nothing. If you won’t do fairly by me, I know your cards, and I shall play for my own hand.”
The tall Cointet took his hat and umbrella, his face at the same time taking its Jesuitical expression, and out he went, bidding Petit-Claud come with him.
“You shall see, my friend, whether I have prepared your way for you,” said he.
The shrewd paper-manufacturer saw his danger at a glance; and saw, too, that with a man like Petit-Claud it was better to play above board. Partly to be prepared for contingencies, partly to satisfy his conscience, he had dropped a word or two to the point in the ear of the ex-consul-general, under the pretext of putting Mlle. de la Haye’s financial position before that gentleman.
“I have the man for Françoise,” he had said; “for with thirty thousand francs of dot, a girl must not expect too much nowadays.”
“We will talk it over later on,” answered Francis du Hautoy, ex-consul-general. “Mme. de Senonches’ positon has altered very much since Mme. de Bargeton went away; we very likely might marry Françoise to some elderly country gentleman.”
“She would disgrace herself if you did,” Cointet returned in his dry way. “Better marry her to some capable, ambitious young man; you could help him with your influence, and he would make a good position for his wife.”