"Why, uncle, these five months past we have been in mourning for you."
"In mourning for me? You must be joking!"
"These five months past we have believed you to be dead, and have received all the documents proving your death!"
"Perhaps these documents informed you that I was buried, then?" he added, without changing countenance.
"Why, yes, certainly!" I said. "We have also the certificate of your interment!"
At this my uncle Barbassou could restrain himself no longer, and was seized with one of those fits of silent laughter which are peculiar to him.
"In this case—you would be my heir?" he said, in the middle of his transport of gaiety, which hardly permitted him to speak.
"I am already, my dear uncle," I replied, "and am in possession of all your property!"
This reply put the finishing touch to his hilarity, and he started off again into such a fit of laughter that I was caught by it, and so was François.
But suddenly my uncle stopped, as if some reflection had crossed his mind, and seizing my hand with a sudden impulse he said: