He could still desist, and would have, but an idea occurred to him. It was then that he laughed.
In accordance with local usage, the civil ceremony, which precedes the religious rites, took place at the Mairie of the precinct in which Malakoff resided. The formalities, brief in themselves, became exasperating by reason of a long delay which intervened.
Afterward, at the Élysée Hôtel, Malakoff requested a word with Mrs. Kandy.
“Madam,” he began, when Sally had gone, “in asking the hand of your daughter, I said it was not merely that I might have her for wife, but in order, also, that I might have you for mother-in-law. Do you recall it?”
Mrs. Kandy, laced to the point of suffocation, wished that he would hurry and go. But, manfully, from a red and gilt armchair in which she squirmed, she smiled.
“I do, indeed. I thought it very gracious.”
Malakoff smiled also—that smile in which the eyes have no part, and which consists in showing the teeth.
“You are most amiable. But at the time I hardly supposed you would leave me in the cold.”
“In the cold!” Mrs. Kandy, shifting uneasily, repeated.
“In the street, if you prefer. For that is what it amounts to. You told me that your daughter has a million. It is true. But the income only. That is insufficient.”
Mrs. Kandy raised her lorgnette. “But you knew this before. Mr. Ridgeway—”
Malakoff bowed. “That is also true. This Ridgeway, your lawyer, acquainted my man of business with the facts. But enamoured as I was, and am of your daughter, I did not sufficiently consider them. This morning, during the delay which I regret you should have experienced at the Mairie, I had the fullest opportunity to do so, and I have concluded to proceed no further.”
“What!”
Malakoff plucked at his beard. “I have concluded not to marry your daughter.”
At the outrageousness of that, Mrs. Kandy forgot her stays. She realised only that she was the mother of a duchess, the potential grandmother of a prince, and dismissing grammar, she cried: “But you are; you have.”
Malakoff looked at her much as though she were a wriggling worm, and it was with utter indifference to her anguish that he answered: “Not by the Church, and in my world it is only the religious ceremony that counts.”
“And you mean to say!” Mrs. Kandy screamed. Then, English failing, she soared into French. “Mais, c’est indigne! You leave my child neither fish, flesh nor fowl.”
Malakoff caught the statement and with a shrug of his shoulders tossed it back.
“It is only what you leave me. In the Americas, I am aware, matters arrange themselves otherwise. There a man may work. I believe a man is even expected to. Here it is different. A man, such as I am at least, not only is not expected to work, but would not be tolerated if he tried. Imagine to yourself the Duc de Malakoff, grocer, stockbroker even! Alors, quoi?”
From purple, Mrs. Kandy turned livid.
“I shall appeal to the embassy. I will send for my lawyer!”
Malakoff took up his hat. “I earnestly recommend you to do both. Meanwhile favour me by conveying my homage to your daughter. I have had the honour to bid you good day.”
But when he had gone, and Mrs. Kandy had loosened her stays, she felt better and thought better, at least of one of her threats. The embassy could do nothing. To appeal there would be but to bill the whole ridiculous story to all the cynical world. She telephoned instead to Ridgeway, who shortly was announced.
Mr. Ridgeway’s mouth was full of gold teeth. While listening to her tale, he exhibited them very freely. He was thinking what an amazing fool she was.
“Of course,” he said at last, placing as he spoke a forefinger in the middle of his forehead, “the marriage has not been consummated, and an action to nullify the contract can be brought. Even otherwise, the attitude of this gentleman has been foreseen. It constitutes what the Code terms a sévice grave, and a divorce can be had. But any proceedings in the matter will cause a scandal, one that unfortunately will reflect on your daughter. Now it is evident that this gentleman wants money. They all do, the majority of the aristos that is, and they rarely marry unless they get it. My advice is, give it to him. Probably a hundred thousand francs will suffice. I will see his avoué and let you know.”
“It is outrageous,” said Mrs. Kandy, sniffling and snuffing at a vinaigrette. “No lady was ever so treated.”
Mrs. Kandy was then in a loose flowing robe, tenderly pink, which lace befluttered. In spite of her plaint, she felt better.
The relief was transient. Mr. Ridgeway on visiting Malakoff’s attorney found that a hundred thousand was a mere fraction of the amount required. Malakoff demanded five million francs.
When these figures were recited to Mrs. Kandy, instantly the woman in that tender gown was ousted by a female. She grimaced queerly. Epilepsy of the epiglottis attacked her. Instead of employing the language of the ornate, she dropped into that of the fish wife.
“Pay a man a million dollars to sleep with my daughter! Never!”
Never is a long word. Before the interview was concluded, she decided to do so.
“I am ruining myself,” she sobbed.
“It is very noble of you,” said Mr. Ridgeway, who, for that remark of his, and for that other of hers, charged extra.
II
A Little Token
When the five million francs had been paid and Sally Kandy became definitely Sally Malakoff, an act interrelated with the drama of her life was occurring in New York.
There in the library of a large house, situated in that part of Madison Avenue, which, with Gramercy
