“Oh, yes,” replied Andrea, laughing.
“How did you come to be dining with that prince whose house you have just left?”
“He is not a prince; simply a count.”
“A count, and a rich one too, eh?”
“Yes; but you had better not have anything to say to him, for he is not a very good-tempered gentleman.”
“Oh, be easy! I have no design upon your count, and you shall have him all to yourself. But,” said Caderousse, again smiling with the disagreeable expression he had before assumed, “you must pay for it—you understand?”
“Well, what do you want?”
“I think that with a hundred francs a month—”
“Well?”
“I could live—”
“Upon a hundred francs!”
“Come—you understand me; but that with—”
“With?”
“With a hundred and fifty francs I should be quite happy.”
“Here are two hundred,” said Andrea; and he placed ten gold louis in the hand of Caderousse.
“Good!” said Caderousse.