There is no
eye so quick as that of the Paris tradesman to detect real wealth from
its sham.--You have no money," he said, in a lower voice. "It is
written everywhere, even on your man-servant's coat.
"Would you like me to disclose any more hideous mysteries that are
kept from you?"
"Monsieur," cried Madame Hulot, whose handkerchief was wet through
with her tears, "enough, enough!"
"My son-in-law, I tell you, gives his father money, and this is what I
particularly wanted to come to when I began by speaking of your son's
expenses. But I keep an eye on my daughter's interests, be easy."
"Oh, if I could but see my daughter married, and die!" cried the poor
woman, quite losing her head.
"Well, then, this is the way," said the ex-perfumer.
Madame Hulot looked at Crevel with a hopeful expression, which so
completely changed her countenance, that this alone ought to have
touched the man's feelings and have led him to abandon his monstrous
schemes.
"You will still be handsome ten years hence," Crevel went on, with his
arms folded; "be kind to me, and Mademoiselle Hulot will marry. Hulot
has given me the right, as I have explained to you, to put the matter
crudely, and he will not be angry.
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