Savinien! If you love me, if you love Savinien, you will demand your fortune from my nephew. Will you swear it to me?’”
Shining like the Saviour during His transfiguration, Minoret’s spirit had then, such was Ursule’s state of oppression, caused her such distress of mind that she promised to do all that her uncle wished in order to stop the nightmare. She had wakened standing in the middle of her room, facing her godfather’s portrait which she had placed there since her illness. She got back into bed, went to sleep again after strong agitation of spirit, and remembered this singular vision upon waking; but she did not dare to mention it. Her exquisite judgment and delicacy revolted at the thought of revealing a dream having for aim and cause her pecuniary interests; she naturally attributed it to the chatter with which La Bougival had sent her to sleep, which had been all about her godfather’s generosity to her and the certainty that her nurse still had in that respect. But the dream returned, with aggravations which made it exceedingly dreadful. The second time, her godfather’s icy hand was laid on her shoulder, causing her the most cruel pain, an indefinable sensation. “You must obey the dead!” he said in sepulchral tones.
“And tears,” she said, “fell from his white and vacant eyes.”
The third time, the dead man took her by her long plaits and showed her Minoret talking with Goupil and promising him money if he would take
