“If Monsieur Dionis is right,” said Madame Crémière to Madame Massin, “we must visit our uncle in the evening as before, every Sunday, and do all that Monsieur Dionis has just told us.”
“Yes, to be received as we used to be!” cried Zélie. “After all, we have a good income of more than forty thousand francs, and he has refused all our invitations; we are quite as good as he is. Even though I do not know how to make laws, I can steer my own bark.”
“As I am far from having forty thousand francs a year,” said Madame Massin, rather piqued, “I do not care to lose ten thousand!”
“We are his nieces, we will take care of him; we will keep our eyes open,” said Madame Crémière, “and some day, cousin, you will be grateful to us.”
“Treat Ursule well, the old man De Jordy left her his savings,” said the notary, lifting his forefinger to his lips.
“I will be on my P’s and Q’s,” cried Désiré.
“You were as clever as Desroches, the cleverest of all the Paris solicitors,” said Goupil to his master as they left the post-house.
“And they discuss our fees!” replied the notary, smiling bitterly.
The heirs, who were seeing Dionis and his head clerk home, all met, their faces rather flushed by the breakfast, at the end of vespers. According to the notary’s anticipations, the Abbé Chaperon was giving his arm to old Madame de Portenduère.
