"Unluckily," said Bonzag, frowning, "I am forced to make a great sacrifice. In a month I could probably have paid all—I have a great uncle at Valle-Temple who is exceedingly ill. But—however, we will hold that for the future. I owe you, my good Francine, wages for six months—sixty francs, representing your service with me. I am going to give you on account, at once, twenty francs, or rather something immeasurably more valuable than that sum." He drew out the two slips of paper, and regarded them with affection and regret. "Here are two tickets for the Grand Lottery of France, which will be drawn this month, ten francs a ticket. I had to go to Chantreuil to get them; number 77,707 and number 200,013. Take them—they are yours."
"But, M'sieur le Comte," said Francine, looking stupidly at the tickets she had passively received. "It's—it's good round pieces of silver I need."
"Francine," cried de Bonzag, in amazed indignation, "do you realize that I probably have given you a fortune—and that I am absolving you of all division of it with me!"
"But, M'sieur—"
"That there are one hundred and forty-five numbers that will draw prizes."
"Yes, M'sieur le Comte; but—"
"That there is a prize of one quarter of a million, one third of a million—"
"All the same—"
"That the second prize is for one-half a million, and the first prize for one round million francs."
"M'sieur says?" said Francine, whose eyes began to open.