“Business, monsieur? Oh! you mean speculation.”
“Are you still making money fast?”
“Yes, monsieur; a man ought to make money, it’s a duty, it’s what we were made for.”
“Parbleu! then you must teach me your secret, for I have never known how to do anything but spend it. But I must mend my ways; I must turn my attention to making my living, and for that purpose it seems to me that I cannot apply to a better man than you.”
La Thomassinière, convinced that Auguste was leading up to a request for a loan, pretended that he had not heard, and said, with a glance at his wallet:
“I lack thirty thousand francs of the amount necessary to buy some notes that have just been offered me—a splendid chance. I know that I can obtain that amount easily enough, that I have only to open my mouth and mention my name; but it annoys me, because I can’t endure to have recourse to anyone, even though it is only for an hour.”
Auguste was diverted by this comedy, and said after a while:
“By the way, Monsieur de la Thomassinière, how is your good mother, the excellent Madame Thomas, whose unexpected arrival caused you so much pleasure the last time that I dined with you?”
The parvenu blushed, bit his lips and stammered:
“She’s—she’s very well, monsieur; that is to say, I presume she’s very well; but since I returned from England—why,—why, of course I’ve had other things to think about. And—Great heaven! it just occurs to me—I’ve three letters to write to London—to noblemen who are expecting to hear from me—thoughtless creature that I am! I cannot stay with you any longer, Monsieur Dalville; my business calls me away—and business before everything.”