“Is there a chateau?” asked Clotilde, with too broad a smile.
“There is something which might be called a chateau; but the wiser plan would be to use the building materials in the construction of a modern residence.”
Clotilde’s eyes blazed with happiness above her smile of satisfaction.
“You must play a rubber with my father this evening,” said she. “In a fortnight I hope you will be asked to dinner.”
“Well, my dear sir,” said the Duc de Grandlieu, “I am told that you have bought the estate of Rubempre. I congratulate you. It is an answer to those who say you are in debt. We bigwigs, like France or England, are allowed to have a public debt; but men of no fortune, beginners, you see, may not assume that privilege——”
“Indeed, Monsieur le Duc, I still owe five hundred thousand francs on my land.”
“Well, well, you must marry a wife who can bring you the money; but you will have some difficulty in finding a match with such a fortune in our Faubourg, where daughters do not get large dowries.”
“Their name is enough,” said Lucien.
“We are only three wisk players—Maufrigneuse, d’Espard, and I—will you make a fourth?” said the Duke, pointing to the card-table.
Clotilde came to the table to watch her father’s game.