They had money.
They might marry poor girls, but white ones.

But the girls?
_Eh bien_! Money should wash them also, or at least money should bleach their descendants.

For money is the Great Stain-eraser, the Mighty Detergent, the Magic Cleanser.

And the stain of race is not the only one that money makes white as snow.

So the old gentleman one day remarked to some friends who drank wine with him, that he would geeve one ten tousant tollare, begare, to te man tat maree his oltest daughtare, Mathilde.