that Monsieur le Vicomte Savinien de Portenduère has a genuine affection for me, I leave him thirty-six thousand francs in bonds of the three per cents, to be taken out of my inheritance, in preference to all my heirs.
“Made and written from beginning to end by my hand, at Nemours, the 11th January, 1831.
“DENIS MINORET.”
Without hesitation, the postmaster who, in order to be quite alone, had shut himself into his wife’s room, looked for the tinder box, and received two warnings from Heaven by the extinction of two matches that successively refused to strike. The third caught fire. He burnt the letter and the will in the fireplace. With unnecessary caution, he buried the remains of the paper and wax in the ashes. Then, tempted by the idea of possessing the thirty-six thousand francs unknown to his wife, he returned at double quick speed to his uncle’s house, goaded by the only idea, a simple, clear idea, that could penetrate his thick skull. Seeing his uncle’s house invaded by the three families who had at last made themselves masters of the place, he trembled lest he should be unable to accomplish a plan about which he did not allow himself time to reflect, whilst only thinking of the obstacles.
“What are you doing here?” he said to Massin and Crémière. “Do you think we are going to leave the house and valuables to be plundered? We are three inheritors, we cannot encamp here! Crémière, do hurry to Dionis and tell him to come and
