Meanwhile Marcel went away, deep in thought, for Monsieur Antoine Thierry's miserliness was of a very curious sort. The curious thing about it was that Monsieur Thierry was not miserly. He did not hoard his money, he did not lend money and never had done so, he denied himself nothing that caught his fancy, and he even did a good deed sometimes under the spur of self-love. How did it happen that he had let slip so excellent an opportunity of purchasing his late brother's property for his nephew? That generous performance would have given him much more celebrity than the future _Antonia Thierrii._ That is precisely the problem which Marcel was trying to solve. He knew that the old armorer had always been jealous, not of his artist brother's talent, which he despised, but of his renown and social success; but should not that jealousy have died with old André? Ought his widow and son to have that unfortunate inheritance forced upon them? An idea passed through Marcel's mind; he retraced his steps and interrupted Monsieur Antoine's horticultural reveries. "By the way, my gallant uncle," he said in a playful tone, "don't you want to buy the hôtel d'Estrelle pavilion?" "The pavilion is for sale, and you didn't tell me, you idiot?" "I forgot it. Well, how much will you give for it?" "What is it worth?" "I have told you a hundred times: to Comtesse d'Estrelle, who has just accepted it as a gift, it is worth ten thousand francs; to you, who want it and need it, it is worth twice that. It remains to be seen whether the countess won't ask three times ten thousand." "Ah! that's like your great folk! sharper and stingier than the parvenus they despise!" "The Comtesse d'Estrelle despises no one." "Yes, she does! she's a fool like all the others. We are separated by a wall, and in the four years she's been living in the hôtel d'Estrelle, she's never had the curiosity to look into my garden." "Perhaps she doesn't know anything about rare plants." "Say rather that she would consider herself dishonored if she put her foot inside a _plebeian's_ door!" "Bah! do you expect a young woman in mourning to compromise herself by strolling about in the garden of a bachelor of your age?" "Of my age? You are joking, I suppose! Am I of an age to make people talk?" "Why, who can say? you used to be a volcano once!" "I! What are you saying, you brute?" "You cannot make me believe that you were never in love." "What's that? I have never been in love! No such fool!" "Yes, you have been in love, a fool if you please, at least once in your life! Try to insist that you haven't," added Marcel, as he saw that the horticulturist turned pale and seemed perturbed once more. "Enough of this nonsense!" retorted the uncle, tapping the floor angrily with his foot. "You are Madame d'Estrelle's attorney; are you instructed to sell the pavilion?" "No, but I have the right to suggest it. How much will you give?" "Not a sou. Let me alone."