“Well!” cried the merchant, taking no heed of his remarks, and with a mocking smile, “come; let us cipher the matter out on the table.  You suppose, perhaps, that I have come here to ask some great sacrifice of you:  but no, De Vlierbeck, thank God, I have no occasion to be so close in my calculations.  Yet a marriage is a thing to which there are always two parties, and it is just that each should bring something into the common stock.”

“Oh, God! oh, God!” muttered the poor gentleman, as he clenched his hands convulsively.

“I propose to give my nephew one hundred thousand francs,” continued Denecker; “and if he wants to continue in business my credit will be worth as much more to him.  I have no wish that Lenora’s portion shall equal his.  Your high birth, and especially your character, will make up what is wanting in her fortune; but what say you to the half,—­fifty thousand francs?  You will consent to that, or I am much mistaken.  What say you?  Is it a bargain?”

Pale and trembling, De Vlierbeck sat riveted to his chair; but at last, in a low, melancholy voice,—­

“Monsieur Denecker,” said he, “this conversation kills me.  I beg you to stop this infliction.  I repeat that I possess nothing; and, since you force me to speak before you apprize me of your own intentions, know that Grinselhof and its dependencies are mortgaged beyond their value!  It is useless to inform you of the origin of these debts.  Let it suffice to repeat that I tell the truth; and I beg you, without going further, now that you are informed of the state of my affairs, to declare frankly what are your designs as to your nephew’s marriage.”

Although this declaration was made with that feverish energy which ought to have satisfied Denecker of its truth, it nevertheless failed to convince him.  A degree of surprise displayed itself on the merchant’s face; but he continued his observations in the same incredulous tone:—­

“Pardon me, De Vlierbeck, but it is impossible to believe you.  I did not think you were so hard in a bargain.  Yet be it so:  every man has his weakness; one is too miserly, another too prodigal.  Now, for my part, I confess that I am extremely anxious to spare Gustave the anxiety of delay.  Give your daughter twenty-five thousand francs, with the understanding that the amount of her portion is to remain a secret; for I don’t want to be laughed at.  Twenty-five thousand francs!—­you cannot say it is too much;—­in fact, it is a trifle that will hardly pay for their furniture.  Be reasonable, my good sir, and let us shake hands on it!”

De Vlierbeck said nothing; but, rising abruptly from the table, opened a closet with a trembling hand, and, taking from it a package of papers, threw them on the table.

“There!” said he; “read; convince yourself.”

Denecker took up the papers and began to examine them.  As he went on, the expression of his face gradually changed, and at times he raised his head and looked upward, as if in deep thought.  After he had been engaged for some time in this disagreeable task, De Vlierbeck recommenced the conversation in a tone of cutting irony:—­