He stared at the words for a few paralyzed moments. Then he stuffed the
letter into his pocket and broke into a laugh.
"_Zut!_" said he, using the inelegant expletive whereby a Frenchman most
adequately expresses his scorn of circumstance. "_Zut!_ If I have lost a
fortune, I have gained two devoted friends, so I am the winner on the
day's work."
Whereupon he returned gaily to the bosom of the Bocardon family and
remained there, its Cousin Quicksilver and its entirely happy and
idolized hero, until the indignation of the eminent M. Say summoned him
to Paris.
And that is how Aristide Pujol could live thenceforward on nothing at
all at Nimes, whenever it suited him to visit that historic town.