"
"Yes, M'sieur le Comte; but--"
"That there is a prize of one quarter of a million, one third of a
million--"
"All the same--"
"That the second prize is for one-half a million, and the first prize
for one round million francs."
"M'sieur says?" said Francine, whose eyes began to open.
"One hundred and forty-five chances, and the lowest is for a hundred
francs. You think that isn't a sacrifice, eh?"
"Well, Monsieur le Comte," Francine said at last with a sigh, "I'll take
them for twenty francs. It's not good round silver, and there's my
little girl--"
"Enough!" exclaimed de Bonzag, dismissing her with an angry gesture. "I
am making you an heiress, and you have no gratitude! Leave me--and send
hither Andoche."
He watched the bulky figure waddle off, sunk back in his chair, and
repeated with profound dejection; "No gratitude! There, it's done: this
time certainly I have thrown away a quarter of a million at the
lowest!"
Presently Andoche, the Sapeur-Pompier, the brass helmet under his arm,
appeared at the top of the steps, smiling and thirsty, with covetous
eyes fastened on the broken table, at the carafe containing curacoa that
was white and "Triple-Sec.
Pages:
263
264
265
266
267
268
269
270
271
272
273
274
275
276
277
278
279
280
281
282
283
284
285
286
287