“You talked to me some time ago,” said la Peyrade, “about marrying a girl who was rich, fully of age, and slightly hysterical, as you were pleased to put it euphemistically.”
“Well done!” cried Cerizet. “I expected this; but you’ve been some time coming to it.”
“In offering me this heiress, what did you have in your mind?” asked la Peyrade.
“Parbleu! to help you to a splendid stroke of business. You had only to stoop and take it. I was formally charged to propose it to you; and, as there wasn’t any brokerage, I should have relied wholly on your generosity.”
“But you are not the only person who was commissioned to make me that offer. A woman had the same order.”
“A woman!” cried Cerizet in a perfectly natural tone of surprise. “Not that I know of.”
“Yes, a foreigner, young and pretty, whom you must have met in the family of the bride, to whom she seems to be ardently devoted.”
“Never,” said Cerizet, “never has there been the slightest question of a woman in this negotiation. I have every reason to believe that I am exclusively charged with it.”
“What!” said la Peyrade, fixing upon Cerizet a scrutinizing eye, “did you never hear of the Comtesse Torna de Godollo?”
“Never, in all my life; this is the first time I ever heard that name.”