"Look,
Mademoiselle," he said, tremulously lifting a handful of worn and
soiled letters and papers. "Look--these are the tools of your banker,
your lawyer, your doctor. With this the banker will make you poor, the
lawyer will prove you a thief, the doctor will swear you are crazy, eh?
What shall you call the work of a gentleman--this"--he dragged the pile
of cushions forward--"or this?"
To the young girl's observant eyes some of the papers appeared to be of
a legal or official character, and others like bills of lading, with
which she was familiar. Their half theatrical exhibition reminded her
of some play she had seen; they might be the clue to some story, or the
mere worthless hoardings of some diseased fancy. Whatever they were, De
Ferrieres did not apparently care to explain further; indeed, the next
moment his manner changed to his old absurd extravagance. "But this is
stupid for Mademoiselle to hear. What shall we speak of? Ah! what
_should_ we speak of in Mademoiselle's presence?"
"But are not these papers valuable?" asked Rosey, partly to draw her
host's thoughts back to their former channel.
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