"
"My dear uncle, I am your nephew; isn't that as good as saying that I
had dipped into the capital left me by my father? After I had read
this letter a sort of revolution took place within me. I paid my whole
arrearage of remorse in one day. I cannot describe to you the state I
was in. As I drove in the Bois a voice called to me, 'That horse is
not yours'; when I ate my dinner it was saying, 'You have stolen this
food.' I was ashamed. The fresher my honesty, the more intense it was.
I rushed to Madame Firmiani. Uncle! that day I had pleasures of the
heart, enjoyments of the soul, that were far beyond millions. Together
we made out the account of what was due to the Bourgneufs, and I
condemned myself, against Madame Firmiani's advice, to pay three per
cent interest. But all I had did not suffice to cover the full amount.
We were lovers enough for her to offer, and me to accept, her
savings--"
"What! besides her other virtues does that adorable woman lay by
money?" cried his uncle.
"Don't laugh at her, uncle; her position has obliged her to be very
careful. Her husband went to Greece in 1820 and died there three years
later. It has been impossible, up to the present time, to get legal
proofs of his death, or obtain the will which he made leaving his
whole property to his wife. These papers were either lost or stolen,
or have gone astray during the troubles in Greece,--a country where
registers are not kept as they are in France, and where we have no
consul.
Pages:
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39