His manner was very insolent, and yet the amiable Mascarin did not seem offended, although he loathed the scent of tobacco.

“We had begun to despair of seeing you, Marquis,” answered he politely.  “I say so, because these gentlemen are here to meet you.  Permit me to introduce to you, Dr. Hortebise, M. Catenac of the Parisian bar, and our secretary,” pointing as he spoke, to Paul.

As soon as Croisenois had taken his seat, Mascarin went straight to the point, as a bullet to the target.  “I do not intend,” began he, “to leave you in doubt for a moment.  Beatings about the bush would be absurd among persons like ourselves.”

At finding himself thus classed with the other persons present, the Marquis gave a little start, and then drawled out, “You flatter me, really.”

“I may tell you, Marquis,” resumed Mascarin, “that your marriage has been definitely arranged by myself and my associates.  All you have to do is to get the young lady’s consent; for that of the Count and Countess has already been secured.”

“There will be no difficulty in that,” lisped the Marquis.  “I will promise her the best horsed carriage in the Bois, a box at the opera, unlimited credit at Van Klopen’s, and perfect freedom.  There will be no difficulty, I assure you.  Of course, however, I must be presented by some one who holds a good position in society.”

“Would the Viscountess de Bois Arden suit you?”

“No one better; she is a relation of the Count de Mussidan.”

“Good; then when you wish, Madame de Bois Arden will introduce you as a suitor for the young lady’s hand, and praise you up to the skies.”

The Marquis looked very jubilant at hearing this.  “All right,” cried he; “then that decides the matter.”

Paul wondered whether he was awake or dreaming.  He too had been promised a rich wife, and here was another man who was being provided for in the same manner.  “These people,” muttered he, “seem to keep a matrimonial agency as well as a servants’ registry office!”

“All that is left, then,” said the Marquis, “is to arrange the—­shall I call it the commission?”

“I was about to come to that,” returned Mascarin.

“Well, I will give you a fourth of the dowry, and on the day of my marriage will hand you a cheque for that amount.”

Paul now imagined that he saw how matters worked.  “If I marry Flavia,” thought he, “I shall have to share her dowry with these highly respectable gentlemen.”

The offer made by the Marquis did not, however, seem to please Mascarin.  “That is not what we want,” said he.

“No,—­well, must I give you more?  Say how much.”

Mascarin shook his head.

“Well then, I will give you a third; it is not worth while to give you more.”

“No, no; I would not take half, nor even the whole of the dowry.  You may keep that as well as what you owe us.”