Nucingen took out his pocketbook and counted out the hundred thousand francs, which Carlos, hidden in a cupboard, was impatiently waiting for, and which the cook handed over to him.
“Here are the hundred thousand francs our man stakes on Asie. Now we must make him lay on Europe,” said Carlos to his confidante when they were on the landing.
And he vanished after giving his instruction to the Malay who went back into the room. She found Esther weeping bitterly. The poor girl, like a criminal condemned to death, had woven a romance of hope, and the fatal hour had tolled.
“My dear children,” said Asie, “where do you mean to go?—For the Baron de Nucingen——”
Esther looked at the great banker with a start of surprise that was admirably acted.
“Ja, mein kind, I am dat Baron von Nucingen.”
“The Baron de Nucingen must not, cannot remain in such a room as this,” Asie went on. “Listen to me; your former maid Eugenie.”
“Eugenie, from the Rue Taitbout?” cried the Baron.
“Just so; the woman placed in possession of the furniture,” replied Asie, “and who let the apartment to that handsome Englishwoman——”
“Hah! I onderstant!” said the Baron.