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- Author: Alexandre Dumas
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“You mistook me, my friend; you did not hear plainly.”
“What did you say, then?”
“I said five hundred.”
“And the five hundred?”
“Here they are.”
Manicamp devoured the rouleau with his eyes; but this time Malicorne held it at a distance.
“Eh! what do you say to that? Five hundred pistoles.”
“I say it is for nothing, my friend,” said Manicamp, taking up the pen again, “and you exhaust my credit. Dictate.”
Malicorne continued:
“Which my friend the Comte de Guiche will obtain for my friend Malicorne.”
“That’s it,” said Manicamp.
“Pardon me, you have forgotten to sign.”
“Ah! that is true. The five hundred pistoles?”
“Here are two hundred and fifty of them.”
“And the other two hundred and fifty?”
“When I am in possession of my place.”
Manicamp made a face.
“In that case give me the recommendation back again.”
“What to do?”
“To add two words to it.”
“Two words?”
“Yes; two words only.”
“What are they?”
“In haste.”
Malicorne returned the recommendation; Manicamp added the words.
“Good,” said Malicorne, taking back the paper.
Manicamp began to count out the pistoles.
“There want twenty,” said he.
“How so?”
“The twenty I have won.”
“In what way?”
“By laying that you would have the letter from the Comte de Guiche in eight hours.”
“Ah! that’s fair,” and he gave him the twenty pistoles.
Manicamp began to scoop up his gold by handfuls, and pour it in cascades upon his bed.
“This second place,” murmured Malicorne, whilst drying his paper, “which, at first glance appears to cost me more than the first, but—” He stopped, took up the pen in his turn, and wrote to Montalais:—
“MADEMOISELLE,—Announce to your friend that her commission will not be long before it arrives; I am setting out to get it signed: that will be twenty-eight leagues I shall have gone for the love of you.”
Then with his sardonic smile, taking up the interrupted sentence:—“This place,” said he, “at first glance, appears to have cost more than the first; but—the benefit will be, I hope, in proportion with the expense, and Mademoiselle de la Valliere will bring me back more than Mademoiselle de Montalais, or else,—or else my name is not Malicorne. Farewell, Manicamp,” and he left the room.
Chapter VI. The Courtyard of the Hotel Grammont.
On Malicorne’s arrival at Orleans, he was informed that the Comte de Guiche had just set out for Paris. Malicorne rested himself for a couple of hours, and then prepared to continue his journey. He reached Paris during the night, and alighted at a small hotel, where, in his previous journeys to the capital, he had been accustomed to put up, and at eight o’clock the next morning presented himself at the Hotel Grammont. Malicorne arrived just in time, for the Comte de Guiche was on the point of taking leave of Monsieur before setting out for Le Havre, where the principal members of the French nobility had gone to await Madame’s arrival from England. Malicorne pronounced the name of Manicamp, and was immediately admitted. He found the Comte de Guiche in the courtyard of the Hotel Grammont, inspecting his horses, which his trainers and equerries were passing in review before him. The count, in the presence of his tradespeople and of his servants, was engaged in praising or blaming, as the case seemed to deserve, the appointments, horses, and harness that were being submitted to him; when, in the midst of this important occupation, the name of Manicamp was announced.
“Manicamp!” he exclaimed; “let him enter by all means.” And he advanced a few steps toward the door.
Malicorne slipped through the half-open door, and looking at the Comte de Guiche, who was surprised to see a face he did not recognize, instead of the one he expected, said: “Forgive me, monsieur le comte, but I believe a mistake has been made. M. Manicamp himself was announced to you, instead of which it is only an envoy from him.”
“Ah!” exclaimed De Guiche, coldly; “and what do you bring me?”
“A letter, monsieur le comte.” Malicorne handed him the first document, and narrowly watched the count’s face, who, as he read it, began to laugh.
“What!” he exclaimed, “another maid of honor? Are all the maids of honor in France, then, under his protection?”
Malicorne bowed.
“Why does he not come himself?” he inquired.
“He is confined to his bed.”
“The deuce! he has no money then, I suppose,” said De Guiche, shrugging his shoulders. “What does he do with his money?”
Malicorne made a movement, to indicate that upon this subject he was as ignorant as the count himself. “Why does he not make use of his credit, then?” continued De Guiche.
“With regard to that, I think—”
“What?”
“That Manicamp has credit with no one but yourself, monsieur le comte!”
“He will not be at Le Havre, then?” Whereupon Malicorne made another movement.
“But every one will be there.”
“I trust, monsieur le comte, that he will not neglect so excellent an opportunity.”
“He should be at Paris by this time.”
“He will take the direct road perhaps to make up for lost time.”
“Where is he now?”
“At Orleans.”
“Monsieur,” said De Guiche, “you seem to me a man of very good taste.”
Malicorne was wearing some of Manicamp’s
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