“I intend one of these two millions to serve as the dowry of a young girl who would have been the Count de Chalusse’s sole legatee, if his death had not been so sudden and so unexpected.” “And the other one?” “The other I intend to invest for you in such a way that you can only touch the interest of it, so that you will not want for bread after you have squandered your inheritance, even to the very last penny.” This wise precaution could not fail to shock such a brilliant young man as M. Wilkie. “Do you take me for a fool?” he exclaimed. “I may appear very generous, but I am shrewd enough, never you fear.” “Sign,” interrupted Madame d’Argeles, coldly. But he attempted to prove that he was no fool by reading and rereading the contract before he would consent to append his name to it. At last, however, he did so, and stowed away the proofs which insured him the much-coveted property. “Now,” said Madame d’Argeles, “I have one request to make of you. Whenever your father makes his appearance and lays claim to this fortune, I entreat you to avoid a lawsuit, which would only make your mother’s shame and the disgrace attached to the hitherto stainless name of Chalusse still more widely known. Compromise with him. You will be rich enough to satisfy his greed without feeling it.” M. Wilkie remained silent for a moment, as if he were deliberating upon the course he ought to pursue. “If my father is reasonable, I will be the same,” he said at last. “I will choose as an arbiter between us one of my friends--a man who acts on the square, like myself--the Marquis de Valorsay.” “My God! do you know him?” “He is one of my most intimate friends.” Madame d’Argeles had become very pale. “Wretched boy!” she exclaimed. “You don’t know that it’s the marquis----” She paused abruptly. One word more and she would have betrayed Pascal Ferailleur’s secret plans, with which she had been made acquainted by Baron Trigault. Had she a right to do this, even to put her son on his guard against a man whom she considered the greatest villain in the world? “Well?” insisted M. Wilkie, in surprise. But Madame d’Argeles had recovered her self-possession. “I only wished to warn you against too close a connection with the Marquis de Valorsay. He has an excellent position in society, but yours will be far more brilliant. His star is on the wane; yours is just rising. All that he is regretting, you have a right to hope for. Perhaps even now he is jealous of you, and wishes to persuade you to take some false step.” “Ah! you little know him!” “I have warned you.” M. Wilkie took up his hat, but, though he was longing to depart, embarrassment kept him to the spot. He vaguely felt that he ought not to leave his mother in this style. “I hope I shall soon have some good news to bring you,” he began. “Before night I shall have left this house,” she answered. “Of course. But you are going to give me your new address.” “No.” “What?--No!”