The talk went on below me, the Count resuming it this time.
"Percival! do you care about your wife?"
"Fosco! that's rather a downright question."
"I am a downright man, and I repeat it."
"Why the devil do you look at me in that way?"
"You won't answer me? Well, then, let us say your wife dies before the summer is out——"
"Drop it, Fosco!"
"Let us say your wife dies——"
"Drop it, I tell you!"
"In that case, you would gain twenty thousand pounds, and you would lose——"
"I should lose the chance of three thousand a year."
"The remote chance, Percival—the remote chance only. And you want money, at once. In your position the gain is certain—the loss doubtful."
"Speak for yourself as well as for me. Some of the money I want has been borrowed for you. And if you come to gain, my wife's d
