“But, unfortunately, mademoiselle, I am obliged to make sure that you have no way of getting out of your room,” said Louchard.
All this passed so quickly that the Baron had not yet had time to intervene.
“Well, and am I still a foul dealer in human flesh, Baron de Nucingen?” cried the hideous Asie, forcing her way past the sheriff’s officers to the couch, where she pretended to have just discovered the banker.
“Contemptible wretch!” exclaimed Nucingen, drawing himself up in financial majesty.
He placed himself between Esther and Louchard, who took off his hat as Contenson cried out, “Monsieur le Baron de Nucingen.”
At a signal from Louchard the bailiffs vanished from the room, respectfully taking their hats off. Contenson alone was left.
“Do you propose to pay, Monsieur le Baron?” asked he, hat in hand.
“I shall pay,” said the banker; “but I must know vat dis is all about.”
“Three hundred and twelve thousand francs and some centimes, costs paid; but the charges for the arrest not included.”
“Three hundred thousand francs,” cried the Baron; “dat is a fery ‘xpensive vaking for a man vat has passed the night on a sofa,” he added in Europe’s ear.