The Son of Monte-Cristo, Volume II | Page 9

Almanser!"
The horse flew along like an arrow, and Madame Ursula, sighing, got into the carriage, which started off in the same direction.
"Who is the handsome lady?" asked Bobichel.
"The richest heiress in Alsace and Lorraine, Mademoiselle de Salves," was the answer.
"Ah, she suits me," said the clown.
"Bah, she is as proud as a peacock," growled an old peasant.
"It is all the same to me," said a second peasant; "she is going to be married to a gentleman in Paris, and there she fits better."
A heavy mail-coach, which halted at the Golden Sun, interrupted the conversation. Mr. Schwan ran to the door to receive the travellers, and at the same moment the man in the brown overcoat appeared at the threshold of the door. Hardly had he seen the mail-coach than he hurried to open the door, and in a cringing voice said:
"Welcome, Monsieur le Marquis; my letter arrived, then, opportunely?"
The occupant of the coach nodded, and leaning on the other's arm, he got out. It was the Marquis of Fougereuse. He looked like a man prematurely old, whose bent back and wrinkled features made him look like a man of seventy, while in reality he was hardly fifty.
In the marquis's company was a servant named Simon, who, in the course of years, had advanced from the post of valet to that of steward.
"What does the gentleman desire?" asked the host, politely.
"Let the dinner be served in my room," ordered Simon; and, giving the marquis a nod, he strode to the upper story in advance of him.
The door which Simon opened showed an elegantly furnished room according to Schwan's ideas, yet the marquis appeared to pay no attention to his surroundings, for he hardly gazed around, and in a state of exhaustion sank into a chair. Simon stood at the window and looked out, while the host hurriedly set the table; when this was finished, Simon winked to Schwan and softly said:
"Leave the room now, and do not enter it until I call for you."
"If the gentlemen wish anything--"
"I know, I know," interrupted Simon, impatiently. "Listen to what I say. You would do well to keep silent about the purpose of my master's visit here. In case any one asks you, simply say you know nothing."
"Neither I do," remarked Schwan.
"So much the better, then you do not need to tell a lie; I advise you in your own interest not to say anything."
The host went away and growled on the stairs:
"Confound big people and their servants. I prefer guests like Girdel and his troupe."
As soon as the door had closed behind Schwan, Simon approached the marquis.
"We are alone, master," he said timidly.
"Then speak; have you discovered Pierre Labarre's residence?"
"Yes, master."
"But you have not gone to see him yet?"
"No, I kept within your orders."
"You were right. I must daze the old scoundrel through my sudden appearance; I hope to get the secret from him."
"Is everything better now, master?" asked Simon, after a pause.
"Better? What are you thinking of?" exclaimed the marquis, angrily. "Every one has conspired against me, and ruin is near at hand."
"But the protection of his majesty--"
"Bah! the protection of the king is useless, if the cabinet hate me. Besides, I have had the misfortune to anger Madame de Foucheres, and since then everything has gone wrong."
"The king cannot have forgotten what you did for him," said Simon.
"A few weeks ago I was driven to the wall by my creditors, and I went to the king and stated my case to him. Do you know what his answer was? 'Monsieur,' he said, earnestly, 'a Fougereuse should not demean himself by begging,' and with that he gave me a draft for eighty thousand francs! What are eighty thousand francs for a man in my position? A drop of water on a hot stove."
Simon nodded.
"But the vicomte," he observed; "his majesty showers favors upon him--"
"I am much obliged for the favors! Yes, my son is spoken of, but in what a way! The vicomte gambles, the vicomte is always in a scrape, the vicomte is the hero of the worst adventures--and kind friends never fail to tell me all about it! I hope his marriage will put a stop to all this business. Have you heard anything further of the De Salves ladies?"
"Not much, but enough. The estate of the young heiress is the largest for miles about, and she herself is a beauty of the first class."
"So much the better. Think of it, four millions! Oh, if this should be lost to us!"
"That will hardly be the case, Monsieur le Marquis; the marriage has been decided upon."
"Certainly, certainly, but then--if the old countess should find out about our pecuniary embarrassments all would be lost. But no, I will not despair; Pierre Labarre must talk, and then--"
"Suppose he won't? Old people are sometimes