recognize the dominion that such men exercise over families.
“My dear children,” said he, “your uncle, having been born in 1746, is eighty-three years old today; now, old men are subject to follies, and this little—”
“Viper!” cried Madame Massin.
“Wretch!” said Zélie.
“Let us call her only by name,” rejoined Dionis.
“Well then, she is a thief,” said Madame Crémière.
“A pretty thief,” replied Désiré Minoret.
“This little Ursule,” resumed Dionis, “he is very fond of. In the interest of you all, my clients, I did not wait until this morning to seek information, and this is what I know about this young—”
“Despoiler!” cried the tax-gatherer.
“Legacy-hunter!” said the clerk.
“Chut! my friends,” said the notary, “or I take my hat, leave you and say good-night.”
“Come, papa,” cried Minoret pouring out for him a small glass of rum, “take it! it came from Rome itself. Indeed, it is worth a franc’s stage-fees.”
“It is true that Ursule is the legitimate daughter of Joseph Mirouët; but her father is the natural son of Valentin Mirouët, your uncle’s father-in-law. So Ursule is Doctor Denis Minoret’s natural niece. As a natural niece, the will the doctor may make in her favor would be hardly assailable; and, if he left her his fortune in this way, you would bring a sufficiently serious action for yourselves against
