“‘Sir!’ cried the lady, turning to Gobseck. ‘I accept your offer.’
“‘Come, now,’ returned Gobseck. ‘You have been a long time in coming to it, my fair lady.’
“He wrote out a cheque for fifty thousand francs on the Bank of France, and handed it to the Countess.
“‘Now,’ continued he with a smile, such a smile as you will see in portraits of M. Voltaire, ‘now I will give you the rest of the amount in bills, thirty thousand francs’ worth of paper as good as bullion. This gentleman here has just said, “My bills will be met when they are due,”’ added he, producing certain drafts bearing the Count’s signature, all protested the day before at the request of some of the confraternity, who had probably made them over to him (Gobseck) at a considerably reduced figure.
“The young man growled out something, in which the words ‘Old scoundrel!’ were audible. Daddy Gobseck did not move an eyebrow. He drew a pair of pistols out of a pigeon-hole, remarking coolly:
“‘As the insulted man, I fire first.’
“‘Maxime, you owe this gentleman an explanation,’ cried the trembling Countess in a low voice.
“‘I had no intention of giving offence,’ stammered Maxime.
“‘I am quite sure of that,’ Gobseck answered calmly; ‘you had no intention of meeting your bills, that was all.’
“The Countess rose, bowed, and vanished, with a great dread gnawing her, I doubt not. M. de Trailles was bound to follow, but before he went he managed to say: