"
"Oh, M'sieur, I have put it all away--I swear it!"
"I believe you," interrupted the Comte, "and now no more of it! I also
am going to be frank with you." He went with a smile to a corner where
stood the little box, done up in rope, which held the trousseau of the
Comtesse de Bonzag. "Open that, and give me the lottery-tickets I gave
you."
"Hanh? You--M'sieur says?"
"The lottery-tickets--"
"Oh, M'sieur, but they're not there--"
"Then where are they?"
"Oh, M'sieur, wait; I'll tell you," said Francine, simply. "When Andoche
went off--"
[Illustration: "You gave him--the tickets! The lottery-tickets!"]
"What!" cried the Comte, like a cannon.
"He was so broken up, M'sieur, I was so afraid for him, so just to
console him, M'sieur--to give him something--I gave him the tickets."
"You gave him--the tickets! The lottery-tickets!"
"Just to console him--yes, M'sieur."
The lank form of the Comte de Bonzag wavered, and then, as though the
body had suddenly deserted the clothes, collapsed in a heap on the
floor.
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