To be sure, I don't intend
to let you have it till the last possible moment, but that's an
excusable little fancy, isn't it? And what does monsieur himself do?
--sells his own property and lives like a lackey!--"
"Uncle--"
"I'm not talking about uncles, I'm talking nephew. I have a right to
your confidence. Come, confess at once; it is much the easiest way; I
know that by experience. Have you been gambling? have you lost money
at the Bourse? Say, 'Uncle, I'm a wretch,' and I'll hug you. But if
you tell me any lies greater than those I used to tell at your age
I'll sell my property, buy an annuity, and go back to the evil ways of
my youth--if I can."
"Uncle--"
"I saw your Madame Firmiani yesterday," went on the old fellow,
kissing the tips of his fingers, which he gathered into a bunch. "She
is charming. You have the consent and approbation of your uncle, if
that will do you any good. As to the sanction of the Church I suppose
that's useless, and the sacraments cost so much in these days. Come,
speak out, have you ruined yourself for her?"
"Yes, uncle."
"Ha! the jade! I'd have wagered it. In my time the women of the court
were cleverer at ruining a man than the courtesans of to-day; but this
one--I recognized her!--it is a bit of the last century."
"Uncle," said Octave, with a manner that was tender and grave, "you
are totally mistaken. Madame Firmiani deserves your esteem, and all
the adoration the world gives her.
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