“Grandvilain!” muttered Monfréville, “why, I knew the old marquis; my father was a friend of his. He used often to speak of a party at his house, of a display of fireworks to celebrate the birth of a son; of a frying-pan that was thrown into the air, and of saucepan covers that wounded several people.”
“Nonsense! nonsense! it is impossible! Monfréville is making fun of us!” said Daréna, stretching himself out in his chair.
“It is all true,” replied the notary; “what Monsieur de Monfréville says really happened. But the Marquis de Grandvilain is dead, and so is his wife; nobody is left now of the old family except a son, who is sixteen years and a half old, and who already has more than thirty thousand francs a year; I manage his property. But his father, obeying a whim, a most incredible piece of folly, provided that at fifteen years his son was to have control of his whole fortune, and he left him no guardian except old Jasmin, his valet de chambre.”
Daréna straightened up in his chair and assumed a singular expression, as he exclaimed:
“Thirty thousand francs a year at fifteen! That deserves consideration.”
“Was the poor old marquis mad?” asked Monfréville.
“No, but he was very old when the child was born, and he wished him to be his own master early in life.”
“Pardi! that doesn’t strike me as so foolish, after all!” said Daréna. “In fact, why shouldn’t one be reasonable at fifteen, when one is so far from it at sixty? But how does the heir manage his fortune? He is consuming it doubtless in cakes and marrons glacés?”
“Thank heaven, so far as I know, he has given his time thus far only to his rhetoric and the humanities. But it was with a view to learning something about him that I sent for the faithful Jasmin. With your permission I will have him come in.”
“We beg that you will do so. For my part, I am very curious to know how this little Grandvilain behaves himself. Oh! what a devil of a name! But no matter, I would gladly change with him now, if he would throw in his father’s coin with the name.—What do you say, Monfréville? Oh! you are a philosopher; and besides, you are rich, which makes philosophy come very easy.”