"That will be
enough, I suppose, to take you to Africa?"
The old man nodded assent.
"As to capital out there, be quite easy. I will draw the remainder of
the money due if I find it necessary."
"All I have is yours--my very blood," said old Fischer.
"Oh, do not be uneasy," said Hulot, fancying that his uncle saw more
clearly than was the fact. "As to our excise dealings, your character
will not be impugned. Everything depends on the authority at your
back; now I myself appointed the authorities out there; I am sure of
them. This, Uncle Fischer, is a dead secret between us. I know you
well, and I have spoken out without concealment or circumlocution."
"It shall be done," said the old man. "And it will go on----?"
"For two years, You will have made a hundred thousand francs of your
own to live happy on in the Vosges."
"I will do as you wish; my honor is yours," said the little old man
quietly.
"That is the sort of man I like.--However, you must not go till you
have seen your grand-niece happily married. She is to be a Countess."
But even taxes and raids and the money paid by the War Office clerk
for Fischer's business could not forthwith provide sixty thousand
francs to give Hortense, to say nothing of her trousseau, which was to
cost about five thousand, and the forty thousand spent--or to be spent
--on Madame Marneffe.
Where, then had the Baron found the thirty thousand francs he had just
produced? This was the history.
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