The two young men were as white and rigid as plaster images.
“Begin, Monsieur Héron,” said the miser to the notary.
The old lawyer read out an account of Hochon’s guardianship, whence it appeared that the entire unencumbered fortune of the two Borniche children amounted to seventy thousand francs, the money settled on their mother; but Monsieur Hochon had lent his daughter considerable sums, and, as representing the lenders, had a lien on part of his grandchildren’s fortune. The share remaining to Baruch came to twenty thousand francs.
“There, you are a rich man,” said his grandfather. “Take your money and walk alone! I remain free to bestow my wealth and Madame Hochon’s—for she agrees with me on every point in this matter—on whomsoever I please, on our dear Adolphine. Yes, she shall marry a peer’s son if we choose, for she will have all we possess!”
“And a very fine fortune it is,” added Monsieur Héron.
“Monsieur Maxence Gilet will indemnify you!” said Madame Hochon.
“I see myself scraping twenty-sous pieces together for such a couple of ne’er-do-wells!” exclaimed Monsieur Hochon.
“Forgive me,” stammered Baruch.
“Forgive me this once, and never no more,” repeated the old man, mocking the voice of a child. “Yes, and if I forgive you, off you go to Monsieur Maxence to tell him what has befallen you and put him on his guard. … No, no, my little gentlemen. I shall have means of knowing how you conduct yourselves. As you behave, I shall behave. It is not by the good conduct of a day or of a month that I shall judge you, but by that of many years. I am strong on my feet, hale and hearty. I hope to live long enough yet to see which way you go.—You, the capitalist,” he added to Baruch, “will go to Paris to study banking with Monsieur Mongenod. Woe to you there if you do not walk straight: they will keep an eye on you. Your money is in the hands of Mongenod & Sons; here is a cheque on them for the whole sum. So now release me by signing your account, which is closed by a receipt in full,” said he, taking the paper out of Héron’s hands and giving it to Baruch.
“As for you, François Hochon, you owe me money instead of having any to receive,” said the old man, addressing his other grandson. “Monsieur Héron, will you read him his statement; it is clear—quite clear.”
The reading took place in utter silence.
“I am sending you to Poitiers, with six hundred francs a year, to study law,” said his grandfather, when the notary ended. “I was prepared to make life easy for you; now you must become an advocate to make your living. Ah, ha! my young rascals, for six years you have taken me in! Well, it took me just an hour in my turn to overtake you. I have seven-league boots!”
Just as old Monsieur Héron was leaving, carrying with him the signed releases, Gritte announced Monsieur le Colonel Philippe Bridau. Madame Hochon left the room, taking her grandsons with her “to the confessional,” as old Hochon expressed it, and to ascertain what effect this scene had had on them.
Philippe and the old man went to the window and talked in low tones.
“I have been considering the position of your affairs,” said Monsieur Hochon, looking across to the house opposite. “I have just been talking them over with Monsieur Héron. The bond bearing fifty thousand francs interest can only be sold by the holder himself, or by his order. Now, since you came, your uncle has signed no such order in any lawyer’s office; and as he has not been out of Issoudun, he has signed none elsewhere. If he gave anyone a power of attorney in this place, we should know of it at once; if he did it elsewhere, we should hear of it all the same, for it would have to be stamped, and our good Monsieur Héron has means of information. So if the old man should go out of the town, follow him, find out where he has been, and we will take steps to discover what he has done.”
“The power has not been given,” said Philippe. “They are trying for it, but I hope to prevent its being executed. No, it will not be executed!” cried Philippe, seeing his uncle appear on his doorstep. He pointed him out to Monsieur Hochon, and hastily told him of the events—so trivial and so important—of his visit to Rouget. “Maxence is afraid of me,” he added, “but he cannot keep out of my way. Mignonnet tells me that all the officers of the old army keep high festival at Issoudun every year on the anniversary of the Emperor’s coronation. Well, then, two days hence Max and I must meet.”
“If he can get the power of attorney by the morning of the 1st of December, he will be off to Paris by the mail, and leave the anniversary to take care of itself.”
“True; then I must get hold of my uncle; but I have an eye that settles idiots,” said Philippe, making Monsieur Hochon quail under a villainous glare.
“If they are allowing him to walk out with
