the postmaster was hoping to find a treasure in the walls. The conditions also contained reservations on this subject. A fortnight after the settlement of the inheritance, Minoret, having sold his horses and business to the son of a rich farmer, installed himself in his uncle’s house, where he spent considerable sums in furniture and restorations. So in this way Minoret condemned himself to live a few steps away from Ursule.
“I hope,” he had said at Dionis’s the day that the formal notice had been served upon Savinien and his mother, “that we shall get rid of these lordlings! We will drive the others out afterward.”
“The old woman with the fourteen quarterings,” replied Goupil, “would never witness her own downfall; she will go and die in Brittany, where no doubt she will find a wife for her son.”
“I do not think so,” answered the notary, who, that morning, had drawn up the contract of the purchase made by Bongrand. “Ursule has just bought widow Richard’s house.”
“That cursed little fool does not know what to invent to annoy us!” cried the postmaster very rashly.
“And what does that matter to you, if she lives in Nemours?” asked Goupil, surprised at the movement of vexation that escaped the foolish giant.
“You don’t know,” replied Minoret, turning as red as a poppy, “that my son is idiotic enough to be in love with her. That is why I would willingly give a hundred écus if Ursule would leave Nemours.”
