He asked in a tone of anguish: “Is it over?”
Cachelin, who was gazing at his sister, too, turned towards Lesable, and the two men looked at each other.
“Yes,” replied the elder, wishing to force his face into an expression of sorrow, but the two understood one another at a glance, and without knowing why, instinctively, they shook hands, as though each would thank the other for a service rendered.
Then, without losing any time, they quickly occupied themselves with the offices required by the dead.
Lesable undertook to fetch the doctor, and to discharge as quickly as possible the most urgent errands.
He took his hat and ran down the staircase, in haste to be in the street, to be alone, to breathe, to think, to rejoice in solitude over his good fortune.
When he had attended to his errands, instead of returning he went across to the boulevard, possessed with a desire to see the crowds, to mingle in the movement of the happy life of the evening. He felt like crying out to the passersby: “I have fifty thousand francs a year,” and he walked along, his hands in his pockets, stopping before the show-windows, examining the rich stuffs, the jewels, the artistic furniture, with this joyous thought: “I can buy these for myself now.”
Suddenly he stopped in front of a mourning store and the startling thought came into his mind: “What if she is not dead? What if they are mistaken?”
And he quickly turned homeward with this doubt troubling his mind.
On entering he demanded: “Has the doctor come?”
Cachelin replied: “Yes, he has confirmed the death, and is now writing the certificate.”
They re-entered the death-chamber. Cora was still weeping, seated in an armchair. She wept very gently, without noise, almost without grief now, with that facility for tears which women have.
As soon as they were all three alone in the room Cachelin said in a low voice: “Now that the nurse has gone to bed, we might look around to see if anything is concealed in the furniture.”
The two men set about the work. They emptied the drawers, rummaged through the pockets, unfolded every scrap of paper. By midnight they had found nothing of interest. Cora had fallen asleep, and she snored a little, in a regular fashion. César said: “Are we going to stay here until daybreak?” Lesable, perplexed, thought it was the proper thing. Then the father-in-law said: “In that case let us bring in armchairs”; and they went out to get the two big, soft easy-chairs which furnished the room of the young married couple.
An hour later the three relatives slept, with uneven snorings, before the corpse, icy in its eternal immobility.
They awakened when, at daybreak, the little nurse entered the chamber. Cachelin immediately said, rubbing his eyes: “I have been a little drowsy for the last half hour.”
Lesable, who was now sitting very upright, declared: “Yes, I noticed it very plainly. As for me, I have not lost consciousness for a second; I just closed my eyes to rest them.”
Cora went to her own room.
Then Lesable asked with apparent indifference:
“When do you think we should go to the notary’s to find out about the will?”
“Why—this morning if you wish.”
“Is it necessary that Cora should accompany us?”
“That would be better, perhaps, since she is in fact the heir.”
“In that case I shall go and tell her to get ready.”
Lesable went out with a quick step.
The office of Maître Belhomme was just opening its doors when Cachelin, Lesable and his wife presented themselves in deep mourning, with faces full of woe.
The notary at once appeared and, greeting them, bade them sit down. Cachelin spoke up: “Monsieur, you remember me: I am the brother of Mlle. Charlotte Cachelin. These are my daughter and my son-in-law. My poor sister died yesterday; we will bury her tomorrow. As you are the depositary of her will, we come to ask you if she has not formulated some request relative to her inhumation, or if you have not some communication to make to us.”
The notary opened a drawer, took out an envelope from which he drew a paper, and said:
“Here, Monsieur, is a duplicate of the will, the contents of which I will make you acquainted with immediately. The other document, exactly similar to this, is to remain in my hands.” And he read:
“I, the undersigned, Victorine-Charlotte Cachelin, here express my last wishes:
“I leave my entire fortune, amounting to about one million one hundred and twenty thousand francs, to the children who will be born of the marriage of my niece Céleste-Coralie Cachelin, the possession of the income to go to the parents until the majority of the eldest of their descendants.
“The provisions which follow regulate the share which shall fall to each child, and the share remaining to the parents until their death.
“In the event of my death before my niece has an heir, all my fortune is to remain in the hands of my notary, for the term of three years, for my wish above expressed to be complied with if a child is born during that time.
“But in the case of Coralie’s not obtaining from Heaven a descendant during the three years following my death, my fortune is to be distributed, by the hands of my notary, among the poor and the benevolent institutions contained in the following list.”
There followed an interminable series of names of communities, of societies, of orders, and of instructions.
Then Maître Belhomme politely placed the paper in the hands of Cachelin, who stood speechless with astonishment.
The notary thought he ought to add something by way of explanation to his visitors.
“Mlle. Cachelin,” said he, “when she did me the honour to speak to me for the first time of her project of making her will according to this plan, expressed to me the great desire which she had to see an heir of her race. She replied to
