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now.”

      “Suppose I am rich,” replied Louis, triumphantly; “what is that to you? Have we not quarrelled about the means of making this money? and did you not heap abuse upon me until I consider myself justified in refusing you any assistance whatever? However, I will overlook the past. And, when I explain my present plan, you will feel ashamed of your former doubts and suspicion. You will say with me, ‘Success is certain.’”

      Louis de Clameran’s scheme was very simple, and therefore unfortunately presented the strongest chances of success.

      “We will go back and look at our balance-sheet. As heretofore, my brilliant nephew, you seem to have misunderstood my management of this affair; I will now explain it to you.”

      “I am listening.”

      “In the first place, I presented myself to Mme. Fauvel, and said not, ‘Your money or your life,’ but ‘Your money or your reputation!’ It was a rude blow to strike, but effective. As I expected, she was frightened, and regarded me with the greatest aversion.”

      “Aversion is a mild term, uncle.”

      “I know that. Then I brought you upon the scene; and, without flattering you in the least, I must say that your opening act was a perfect success. I was concealed behind the curtain, and saw your first interview; it was sublime! She saw you, and loved you: you spoke a few words and won her heart.”

      “And but for you?”

      “Let me finish. This was the first act of our comedy. Let us pass to the second. Your extravagant follies—your grandfather would have said, your dissoluteness—soon changed our respective situations. Mme. Fauvel, without ceasing to worship you—you resemble Gaston so closely—was uneasy about you. She was so frightened that she was forced to come to me for assistance.”

      “Poor woman!”

      “I acted my part very well, as you must confess. I was grave, cold, indignant, and represented the distressed uncle to perfection. I spoke of the old probity of the Clamerans, and bemoaned that the family honor should be dragged in the dust by a degenerate descendant. For a short time I triumphed at your expense; Mme. Fauvel forgot her former prejudice against me, and soon showed that she esteemed and liked me.”

      “That must have been a long time ago.”

      Louis paid no attention to this ironical interruption.

      “Now we come to the third scene,” he went on to say, “the time when Mme. Fauvel, having Madeleine for an adviser, judged us at our true value. Oh! you need not flatter yourself that she did not fear and despise us both. If she did not hate you, Raoul, it was because a mother’s heart always forgives a sinful child. A mother can despise and worship her son at the same time.”

      “She has proved it to me in so many touching ways, that!—yes, even I, hardened as I am—was moved, and felt remorse.”

      “Parbleu! I have felt some pangs myself. Where did I leave off? Oh, yes! Mme. Fauvel was frightened, and Madeleine, bent on sacrificing herself, had discarded Prosper, and consented to marry me, when the existence of Gaston was suddenly revealed. And what has happened since? You have succeeded in convincing Mme. Fauvel that you are pure, and that I am blacker than hell. She is blinded by your noble qualities, and she and Madeleine regard me as your evil genius, whose pernicious influence led you astray.”

      “You are right, my venerated uncle; that is precisely the position you occupy.”

      “Very good. Now we come to the fifth act, and our comedy needs entire change of scenery. We must veer around.”

      “Change our tactics?”

      “You think it difficult, I suppose? Nothing easier. Listen attentively, for the future depends upon your skilfulness.”

      Raoul leaned back in his chair, with folded arms, as if prepared for anything, and said:

      “I am ready.”

      “The first thing for you to do,” said Louis, “is to go to Mme. Fauvel to-morrow, and tell her the story about my natural brother. She will not believe you, but that makes no difference. The important thing is, for you to appear convinced of the truth of what you tell her.”

      “Consider me convinced.”

      “Five days hence, I will call on M. Fauvel, and confirm the notification sent him by my notary at Oloron, that the money deposited in the bank now belongs to me. I will repeat, for his benefit, the story of the natural brother, and ask him to keep the money until I call for it, as I have no occasion for it at present. You, who are so distrustful, my good nephew, may regard this deposit as a guarantee of my sincerity.”

      “We will talk of that another time. Go on.”

      “Then I will go to Mme. Fauvel, and say, ‘Being very poor, my dear madame, necessity compelled me to claim your assistance in the support of my brother’s son, who is also yours. This youth is worthless and extravagant.’”

      “Thanks, my good uncle.”

      “‘He has poisoned your life when he should have added to your happiness; he is a constant anxiety and sorrow to your maternal heart. I have come to offer my regrets for your past trouble, and to assure you that you will have no annoyance in the future. I am now rich, and henceforth take the whole responsibility of Raoul upon myself. I will provide handsomely for him.’”

      “Is that what you call a scheme?”

      “Parbleu, you will soon see whether it is. After listening to this speech, Mme. Fauvel will feel inclined to throw herself in my arms, by way of expressing her gratitude and joy. She will refrain, however, on account of her niece. She will ask me to relinquish my claim on Madeleine’s hand, now that I am rich. I will roundly tell her, No. I will make this an opportunity for an edifying display of magnanimity and disinterestedness. I will say, ‘Madame, you have accused me of cupidity. I am now able to prove your injustice. I have been infatuated, as every man must be, by the beauty, grace, and intelligence of Mlle. Madeleine; and—I love her. If she were penniless, my devotion would only be the more ardent. She has been promised to me, and I must insist upon this one article of our agreement. This must be the price of my silence. And, to prove that I am not influenced by her fortune, I give you my sacred promise, that, the day after the wedding, I will send Raoul a stock receipt of twenty-five thousand livres per annum.”

      Louis expressed himself with such convincing candor, that Raoul, an artist in knavery, was charmed and astonished.

      “Beautifully done,” he cried, clapping his hands with glee. “That last sentence will create a chasm between Mme. Fauvel and her niece. The promise of a fortune for me will certainly bring my mother over to our side.”

      “I hope so,” said Louis with pretended modesty. “And I have strong reasons for hoping so, as I shall be able to furnish the good lady with excellent arguments for excusing herself in her own eyes. You know when someone proposes some little—what shall we call it?—transaction to an honest person, it must be accompanied by justifications sufficient to quiet all qualms of conscience. I shall prove to Mme. Fauvel and her niece that Prosper has shamefully deceived them. I shall prove to them that he is cramped by debts, dissipated, and a reckless gambler, openly associating with a woman of no character.”

      “And very pretty, besides, by Jove! You must not neglect to expatiate upon the beauty and fascinations of the adorable Gypsy; that will be your strongest point.”

      “Don’t be alarmed; I shall be more eloquent than a popular divine. Then I will explain to Mme. Fauvel that if she really loves her niece, she will persuade her to marry, not an insignificant cashier, but a man of position, a great manufacturer, a marquis, and, more than this, one rich enough to establish you in the world.”

      Raoul was dazzled by this brilliant prospect.

      “If you don’t decide her, you will make her waver,” he said.

      “Oh! I don’t expect a sudden change. I only intend planting the germ in her mind;

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