“I have not had the honor of being known to you, monsieur,” Corentin began, “but----” “Excuse my interrupting you, monsieur, but----” “But the matter in point is your marriage to Mademoiselle Clotilde de Grandlieu--which will never take place,” Corentin added eagerly. Lucien sat down and made no reply. “You are in the power of a man who is able and willing and ready to prove to the Duc de Grandlieu that the lands of Rubempre are to be paid for with the money that a fool has given to your mistress, Mademoiselle Esther,” Corentin went on. “It will be quite easy to find the minutes of the legal opinions in virtue of which Mademoiselle Esther was summoned; there are ways too of making d’Estourny speak. The very clever manoeuvres employed against the Baron de Nucingen will be brought to light. “As yet all can be arranged. Pay down a hundred thousand francs, and you will have peace.--All this is no concern of mine. I am only the agent of those who levy this blackmail; nothing more.” Corentin might have talked for an hour; Lucien smoked his cigarette with an air of perfect indifference. “Monsieur,” replied he, “I do not want to know who you are, for men who undertake such jobs as these have no name--at any rate, in my vocabulary. I have allowed you to talk at your leisure; I am at home.--You seem to me not bereft of common sense; listen to my dilemma.” There was a pause, during which Lucien met Corentin’s cat-like eye fixed on him with a perfectly icy stare. “Either you are building on facts that are absolutely false, and I need pay no heed to them,” said Lucien; “or you are in the right; and in that case, by giving you a hundred thousand francs, I put you in a position to ask me for as many hundred thousand francs as your employer can find Saint-Esteves to ask for. “However, to put an end, once and for all, to your kind intervention, I would have you know that I, Lucien de Rubempre, fear no one. I have no part in the jobbery of which you speak. If the Grandlieus make difficulties, there are other young ladies of very good family ready to be married. After all, it is no loss to me if I remain single, especially if, as you imagine, I deal in blank bills to such advantage.” “If Monsieur l’Abbe Carlos Herrera----” “Monsieur,” Lucien put in, “the Abbe Herrera is at this moment on the way to Spain. He has nothing to do with my marriage, my interests are no concern of his. That remarkable statesman was good enough to assist me at one time with his advice, but he has reports to present to his Majesty the King of Spain; if you have anything to say to him, I recommend you to set out for Madrid.” “Monsieur,” said Corentin plainly, “you will never be Mademoiselle Clotilde de Grandlieu’s husband.” “So much the worse for her!” replied Lucien, impatiently pushing Corentin towards the door. “You have fully considered the matter?” asked Corentin coldly.