"You must marry," said he at last.
This seemed to surprise Hector, but not disagreeably.
"I, marry? It's easier to give that advice than to follow it."
"Pardon me--you ought to know that I do not speak rashly. What
would you say to a young girl of good family, pretty, well brought
up, so charming that, excepting my own wife, I know of no one more
attractive, and who would bring with her a dowry of a million?"
"Ah, my friend, I should say that I adore her! And do you know
such an angel?"
"Yes, and you too, for the angel is Mademoiselle Laurence Courtois."
Hector's radiant face overclouded at this name, and he made a
discouraged gesture.
"Never," said he. "That stiff and obstinate old merchant, Monsieur
Courtois, would never consent to give his daughter to a man who has
been fool enough to waste his fortune."
Sauvresy shrugged his shoulders.
"Now, there's what it is to have eyes, and not see. Know that this
Courtois, whom you think so obstinate, is really the most romantic
of men, and an ambitious old fellow to boot. It would seem to him
a grand good speculation to give his daughter to the Count Hector de
Tremorel, cousin of the Duke of Samblemeuse, the relative of the
Commarins, even though you hadn't a sou.
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