“How unjust that is! Just think of that! A poor little woman gives herself to a man who makes her unhappy, and if he dies, she doesn’t inherit! And monsieur le comte, your husband, has at least twenty thousand francs a year, you say?”
“Oh! in more than nineteen years that have passed, it seems that he has doubled his fortune at least, in undertakings, speculations.”
“What! nineteen years madame has left her husband?”
Madame de Grangeville made a gesture of irritation, and the maid made haste to add:
“No, no, that is not possible; madame made a mistake; doubtless madame meant to say nine years.”
“Yes, you are right, I did make a mistake; it is much less. However, what does it matter? It is of no use to think about that any more.”
“I beg pardon, madame,—don’t be offended at what I am going to say; it is an idea that came into my head, and I submit it to you.”
“Go on; you know very well that I never am angry.”
“Well, since madame’s former husband is so rich, and madame finds herself annoyed, besieged by those demons of creditors, as we have been for some time—suppose madame should send to monsieur le comte and ask him to let her have a few thousand-franc notes—would he refuse them?”
“O Lizida! that is impossible!”