“As many thousands as you give me hundreds! Truly, it is only bastards who are thus fortunate. Five thousand francs per month! What the devil can you do with all that?”
“Oh, it is no trouble to spend that; and I am like you, I want capital.”
“Capital?—yes—I understand—everyone would like capital.”
“Well, and I shall get it.”
“Who will give it to you—your prince?”
“Yes, my prince. But unfortunately I must wait.”
“You must wait for what?” asked Caderousse.
“For his death.”
“The death of your prince?”
“Yes.”
“How so?”
“Because he has made his will in my favor.”
“Indeed?”
“On my honor.”
“For how much?”
“For five hundred thousand.”
“Only that? It’s little enough.”
“But so it is.”