“And this treasure you hold in your hand?” said la Peyrade, in a tone of incredulity.
“Better still, I am authorized to offer it to you; in fact, I might say that I am charged to do so.”
“My friend, you are poking fun at me; unless, indeed, this phoenix has some hideous or prohibitory defect.”
“Well, I’ll admit,” said Cerizet, “that there is a slight objection, not on the score of family, for, to tell the truth, the young woman has none—”
“Ah!” said la Peyrade, “a natural child—Well, what next?”
“Next, she is not so very young,—something like twenty-nine or so; but there’s nothing easier than to turn an elderly girl into a young widow if you have imagination.”
“Is that all the venom in it?”
“Yes, all that is irreparable.”
“What do you mean by that? Is it a case of rhinoplasty?”
Addressed to Cerizet the word had an aggressive air, which, in fact, was noticeable since the beginning of the dinner in the whole manner and conversation of the barrister. But it did not suit the purpose of the negotiator to resent it.