The Count's Millions
house is worse than a tomb. No receptions, no dinners—nothing. Would you believe it, I have never seen the reception-rooms! They are always closed; and the furniture is dropping to pieces under its coverings. There are not three visitors in the course of a month.”      

       She was evidently incensed, and the new footman seemed to share her indignation. “Why, how is it?” he exclaimed. “Is the count an owl? A man who’s not yet fifty years old, and who’s said to be worth several millions.”      

       “Yes, millions; you may safely say it—and perhaps ten, perhaps twenty millions too.”      

       “Then all the more reason why there should be something going on here. What does he do with himself alone, all the blessed day?”      

       “Nothing. He reads in the library, or wanders about the garden. Sometimes, in the evening, he drives with Mademoiselle Marguerite to the Bois de Boulogne in a closed carriage; but that seldom happens. Besides, there is no such thing as teasing the poor man. I’ve been in the house for six months, and I’ve never heard him say anything but: ‘yes’; ‘no’; ‘do this’;       ‘very well’; ‘retire.’ You would think these are the only words he knows. Ask M. Casimir if I’m not right.”      

       “Our guv’nor isn’t very gay, that’s a fact,” responded the valet.     

       The footman was listening with a serious air, as if greatly interested in the character of the people whom he was to serve. “And mademoiselle,” he asked, “what does she say to such an existence?”      

       “Bless me! during the six months she has been here, she has never once complained.”      

       “If she is bored,” added M. Casimir, “she conceals it bravely.”      

       “Naturally enough,” sneered the waiting-maid, with an ironical gesture;       “each month that mademoiselle remains here, brings her too much money for her to complain.”      

       By the laugh that greeted this reply, and by the looks the older servants exchanged, the new-comer must have realized that he had discovered the secret skeleton hidden in every house. “What! what!” he exclaimed, on fire with curiosity; “is there really anything in that? To tell the truth, I was inclined to 
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