One hundred and ten thousand francs! It was colossal! Five generations
of Bonzags had never touched as much as that. One hundred and ten
thousand francs meant the rehabilitation of the ancient name, the
restoration of the Chateau de Keragouil, half the year at Paris, in the
Cercle Royale, in the regions of art, and among the great minds that
were still young in the Quartier--and all that was in the possession of
a plump Gascony peasant, whose ideas of comfort and pleasure were
satisfied by one hundred and twenty francs a year.
"What am I going to do?" he cried, rising in an outburst of anger. Then
he sat down in despair. There was nothing to do. The fact was obvious
that Francine was an heiress, possessed of the greatest fortune in the
memory of Keragouil. There was nothing to do, or rather, there was
manifestly but one way open, and the Comte resolved on the spot to take
it. He must have back the lottery tickets, though it meant a Comtesse de
Bonzag.
Fortunately for him, Francine knew nothing of the arrival of the paper.
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