The ceilings were done up with cornices that cost six francs a foot. The dining-room floor is all inlaid, such follies! The house is not worth a penny the more.”
“Well, nephew, make this purchase for me, and let me know about it, here is my address; the rest my solicitor will see to.—Who lives opposite?” he asked, on leaving.
“Some refugees!” replied the postmaster, “a Chevalier de Portenduère.”
Once the house was bought, the famous doctor, instead of going there, wrote to his nephew to let it. The Folie-Levrault was inhabited by the notary of Nemours, who then sold his practice to Dionis, his head clerk, and who died two years after, saddling the doctor with a house to let just when Napoléon’s fate was being decided in the vicinity. The doctor’s heirs, pretty well deceived, had taken his desire to return as a rich man’s caprice, and were frantic at supposing him to have ties in Paris which would keep him there and rob them of their inheritance. Nevertheless, Minoret-Levrault’s wife seized this opportunity of writing to the doctor. The old man replied that as soon as peace was signed, once the roads were free of soldiers and communication re-established, he should come to live at Nemours. He paid a flying visit with two of his patients, a hospital architect and an upholsterer, who undertook repairs, interior arrangements and the transport of the furniture. Madame Minoret-Levrault offered, as caretaker, the cook of the
