The Count's Millions [93]
and stainless name I bear is one of the proudest in France; and though my fortune may have been somewhat impaired by youthful folly, it is still more than sufficient to maintain an establishment in keeping with my rank."
Mademoiselle Marguerite was still powerless to reply. Her presence of mind had entirely deserted her, and her tongue seemed to cleave to her palate. She glanced entreatingly at the old magistrate, as if imploring his intervention, but he was so absorbed in contemplating his wonderful ring, that one might have imagined he was oblivious of all that was going on around him.
"I am aware that I have so far not been fortunate enough to please you, mademoiselle," continued the marquis. "M. de Chalusse did not conceal it from me--I remember, alas! that I advocated in your presence a number of stupid theories, which must have given you a very poor opinion of me. But you will forgive me, I trust. My ideas have entirely changed since I have learned to understand and appreciate your vigorous intellect and nobility of soul. I thoughtlessly spoke to you in the language which is usually addressed to young ladies of our rank of life--frivolous beauties, who are spoiled by vanity and luxury, and who look upon marriage only as a means of enfranchisement."
His words were disjointed as if emotion choked his utterance. At times, it seemed as if he could scarcely command his feelings; and then his voice became so faint and trembling that it was scarcely intelligible.
However, by allowing him to continue, by listening to what he said, Mademoiselle Marguerite was encouraging him, even more-- virtually binding herself. She understood that this was the case, and making a powerful effort, she interrupted him, saying: "I assure you, Monsieur le Marquis, that I am deeply touched--and grateful--but I am no longer free."
"Pray, mademoiselle, pray do not reply to-day. Grant me a little time to overcome your prejudices."
She shook her head, and in a firmer voice, replied: "I have no prejudices; but for some time past already, my future has been decided, irrevocably decided."
He seemed thunderstruck, and his manner apparently indicated that the possibility of a repulse had never entered his mind. His eyes wandered restlessly from Mademoiselle Marguerite to the countenance of the old magistrate, who remained as impassive as a sphinx, and at last they lighted on a newspaper which was lying on the floor at the young girl's feet. "Do not deprive me of all hope," he murmured.
She made no answer, and understanding her silence, he was about to retire when the door suddenly opened and a servant announced: "Monsieur de Fondege."
Mademoiselle Marguerite touched the magistrate on the shoulder to attract his attention. "This gentleman is M. de Chalusse's friend whom I sent for this morning."
At the same moment a man who looked some sixty years of age entered the room. He was very tall, and as straight as the letter I, being arrayed in a long blue frock-coat, while his neck, which was as red and as wrinkled as that of a turkey-cock, was encased in a very high and stiff satin cravat. On seeing his ruddy face, his closely cropped hair, his little eyes twinkling under his bushy eyebrows, and his formidable mustaches a la Victor Emmanuel, you would have immediately exclaimed: "That man is an old soldier!"
A great mistake! M. de Fondege had never been in the service, and it was only in mockery of his somewhat bellicose manners and appearance that some twenty years previously his friends had dubbed him "the General." However, the appellation had clung to him. The nickname had been changed to a title, and now M. de Fondege was known as "the General" everywhere. He was invited and announced as "the General." Many people believed that he had really been one, and perhaps he fancied so himself, for he had long been in the habit of inscribing "General A. de Fondege" on his visiting cards. The nickname had had a decisive influence on his life. He had endeavored to show himself worthy of it, and the manners he had
Mademoiselle Marguerite was still powerless to reply. Her presence of mind had entirely deserted her, and her tongue seemed to cleave to her palate. She glanced entreatingly at the old magistrate, as if imploring his intervention, but he was so absorbed in contemplating his wonderful ring, that one might have imagined he was oblivious of all that was going on around him.
"I am aware that I have so far not been fortunate enough to please you, mademoiselle," continued the marquis. "M. de Chalusse did not conceal it from me--I remember, alas! that I advocated in your presence a number of stupid theories, which must have given you a very poor opinion of me. But you will forgive me, I trust. My ideas have entirely changed since I have learned to understand and appreciate your vigorous intellect and nobility of soul. I thoughtlessly spoke to you in the language which is usually addressed to young ladies of our rank of life--frivolous beauties, who are spoiled by vanity and luxury, and who look upon marriage only as a means of enfranchisement."
His words were disjointed as if emotion choked his utterance. At times, it seemed as if he could scarcely command his feelings; and then his voice became so faint and trembling that it was scarcely intelligible.
However, by allowing him to continue, by listening to what he said, Mademoiselle Marguerite was encouraging him, even more-- virtually binding herself. She understood that this was the case, and making a powerful effort, she interrupted him, saying: "I assure you, Monsieur le Marquis, that I am deeply touched--and grateful--but I am no longer free."
"Pray, mademoiselle, pray do not reply to-day. Grant me a little time to overcome your prejudices."
She shook her head, and in a firmer voice, replied: "I have no prejudices; but for some time past already, my future has been decided, irrevocably decided."
He seemed thunderstruck, and his manner apparently indicated that the possibility of a repulse had never entered his mind. His eyes wandered restlessly from Mademoiselle Marguerite to the countenance of the old magistrate, who remained as impassive as a sphinx, and at last they lighted on a newspaper which was lying on the floor at the young girl's feet. "Do not deprive me of all hope," he murmured.
She made no answer, and understanding her silence, he was about to retire when the door suddenly opened and a servant announced: "Monsieur de Fondege."
Mademoiselle Marguerite touched the magistrate on the shoulder to attract his attention. "This gentleman is M. de Chalusse's friend whom I sent for this morning."
At the same moment a man who looked some sixty years of age entered the room. He was very tall, and as straight as the letter I, being arrayed in a long blue frock-coat, while his neck, which was as red and as wrinkled as that of a turkey-cock, was encased in a very high and stiff satin cravat. On seeing his ruddy face, his closely cropped hair, his little eyes twinkling under his bushy eyebrows, and his formidable mustaches a la Victor Emmanuel, you would have immediately exclaimed: "That man is an old soldier!"
A great mistake! M. de Fondege had never been in the service, and it was only in mockery of his somewhat bellicose manners and appearance that some twenty years previously his friends had dubbed him "the General." However, the appellation had clung to him. The nickname had been changed to a title, and now M. de Fondege was known as "the General" everywhere. He was invited and announced as "the General." Many people believed that he had really been one, and perhaps he fancied so himself, for he had long been in the habit of inscribing "General A. de Fondege" on his visiting cards. The nickname had had a decisive influence on his life. He had endeavored to show himself worthy of it, and the manners he had