“But—”
Dionis at once saw every eye fixed on him, every face assuming the same angle, just as if he had pulled the wire of one of those toy theatres where all the figures move in jerks by the action of wheelwork.
“But there is no law to hinder your uncle from adopting or marrying Ursule,” he went on. “As to an adoption, it might be disputed, and you would, I believe, win the case; the High Courts are not to be trifled with in the matter of adoption, and you would be examined in the preliminary inquiry. It is all very well for the doctor to display the ribbon of Saint-Michael, to be an officer of the Legion of Honor, and formerly physician to the ex-emperor; he would go to the wall. But though you might be warned in case of an adoption, how are you to know if he marries her? The old fellow is quite sharp enough to get married in Paris after residing there for a year, and to secure to his bride a settlement of a million francs under the marriage contract. The only thing, therefore, which really jeopardizes your inheritance is that your uncle should marry the child.” Here the notary paused.
“There is another risk,” said Goupil, with a knowing air. “He may make a will in favor of a third person, old Bongrand for instance, who would be constituted trustee for Mademoiselle Ursule Mirouët.”
“If you worry your uncle,” Dionis began again, cutting short his head-clerk, “if you are not all as nice as possible to Ursule, you will drive him either into a marriage or into the trusteeship of which Goupil speaks; but I do not think he is likely to have recourse to a trust; it is a dangerous alternative. As to his marrying her, it is easy to prevent it. Désiré has only to show the girl a little attention; she will certainly prefer a charming young fellow, the cock of the walk at Nemours, to an old man.”
“Mother,” said the postmaster’s son in Zélie’s ear, tempted both by the money and by Ursule’s beauty, “if I were to marry her we should get it all.”
“Are you mad? You who will have fifty thousand francs a year one of those days, and who are sure to be elected deputy! So long as I live you shall never hang a millstone round your neck by a foolish marriage. Seven hundred thousand francs? Thank you for nothing! Why, monsieur, the Mayor’s only daughter will have fifty thousand a year, and they have already made overtures.”
This reply, in which, for the first time in his life, his mother spoke roughly to him, extinguished in Désiré every hope of marrying the fair Ursule, for his father and he could never gain the day against the determination written in Zélie’s terrible blue eyes.
“Yes; but, I say. Monsieur Dionis,” cried Crémière, whose wife had nudged his elbow, “if the old man took the matter seriously, and let his ward marry Désiré, settling on her the absolute possession of his property, goodbye to our chances! And if he lives another five years, our uncle will have at least a million.”
“Never,” cried Zélie; “never so long as I live and breathe shall Désiré marry the daughter of a bastard, a girl taken in out of charity, picked up in the streets. What next, by Heaven? At his uncle’s death my son will be the representative of the Minorets; and the Minorets can show five centuries of good citizenship. It is as good as a noble pedigree. Make your minds easy. Désiré shall marry when we see what he is likely to do in the Chamber of Deputies.”
This arrogant pronouncement was seconded by Goupil, who added:
“With eighty thousand francs a year, Désiré may rise to be president of a Supreme Court, or public prosecutor, which leads to a peerage. A foolish marriage would be the ruin of his prospects.”
The heirs all began to talk at once, but they were silenced by the blow of his fist that Minoret struck on the table to enable the notary to speak on.
“Your uncle is an excellent and worthy man,” said Dionis. “He believes himself immortal; and, like all clever men, he will allow death to overtake him before he has made his will. My opinion, therefore, for the moment, is that he should be induced to invest his capital in such a way as to make it difficult to dispossess you; and the opportunity now offers. Young Portenduère is in Sainte Pélagie, locked up for a hundred and odd thousand francs of debts. His old mother knows he is in prison; she is weeping like a Magdalen, and has asked the Abbé Chaperon to dinner, to talk over the catastrophe, no doubt. Well, I shall go this evening and suggest to your uncle to sell his stock of consolidated five percents, which are at a hundred and eighteen, and lend the sum necessary to release the prodigal to Madame de Portenduère on the farm at Bordières and her dwelling-house. I am in my rights as a notary in applying to him on behalf of that little idiot of a Portenduère, and it is quite natural that I should wish him to change his investments; I get the commission, the stamps, and the business. If I can get him to take my advice, I shall propose to him to invest the rest of his capital in real estate. I have some splendid lands for sale in my office. When once his fortune is invested in real estate, or in mortgages on land in this neighborhood, it will not easily fly away. It is always easy to raise difficulties in the way of realizing the capital if he should wish to do so.”
The heirs, struck by the soundness of this logic, much more skilful than that of M. Josse, expressed themselves by approving murmurs.
“So settle it among yourselves,”
