“Well then,” said the poet, taking his secretary’s arm and leaning heavily upon it, “be happy, Ernest. By a mere accident I have been not ungrateful to you. You are richly rewarded for your devotion, and I will generously further your happiness.”
Canalis was furious; but he could not behave otherwise than with propriety, and he made the best of his disappointment by mounting it as a pedestal.
“Ah, Canalis, I have never really known you till this moment.”
“Did you expect to? It takes some time to go round the world,” replied the poet with his pompous irony.
“But think,” said La Briere, “of this enormous fortune.”
“Ah, my friend, is it not well invested in you?” cried Canalis, accompanying the words with a charming gesture.
“Melchior,” said La Briere, “I am yours for life and death.”
He wrung the poet’s hand and left him abruptly, for he was in haste to meet Monsieur Mignon.