The Baron could not suppress a smile.
“Well, you must let one go.”
“I shall let one go, but as soon as I shall let one go, I shall hafe to give still another.”
“Yes, I understand,” replied Asie. “You will not say B for fear of having to go on to Z. Still, Esther is a good girl——”
“A ver’ honest girl,” cried the banker. “An’ she is ready to submit; but only as in payment of a debt.”
“In short, she does not want to be your mistress; she feels an aversion.—Well, and I understand it; the child has always done just what she pleased. When a girl has never known any but charming young men, she cannot take to an old one. You are not handsome; you are as big as Louis XVIII., and rather dull company, as all men are who try to cajole fortune instead of devoting themselves to women.—Well, if you don’t think six hundred thousand francs too much,” said Asie, “I pledge myself to make her whatever you can wish.”
“Six huntert tousant franc!” cried the Baron, with a start. “Esther is to cost me a million to begin with!”
“Happiness is surely worth sixteen hundred thousand francs, you old sinner. You must know, men in these days have certainly spent more than one or two millions on a mistress. I even know women who have cost men their lives, for whom heads have rolled into the basket.—You know the doctor who poisoned his friend? He wanted the money to gratify a woman.”
“Ja, I know all dat. But if I am in lofe, I am not ein idiot, at least vile I am here; but if I shall see her, I shall gife her my pocket-book——”
“Well, listen Monsieur le Baron,” said Asie, assuming the attitude of a Semiramis. “You have been squeezed dry enough already. Now, as sure as my name is Saint-Esteve—in the way of business, of course—I will stand by you.”