“You are the owner now, monsieur; from this moment you can do as you please with your house and everything that it contains, as I have sold it to you furnished.”
“I thank you, monsieur, but you may take all the time that you please to make your preparations for departure. I do not wish to embarrass you in any way.”
“Oh! my preparations will very soon be made, monsieur. I simply have a little bundle to pack, and I can carry it under my arm.”
“Then you already have another house in view?”
“Why,” said the notary, “Monsieur Renâré has six houses in Paris, and three more in the suburbs; so he is not likely to be at a loss.”
“Six houses in Paris,” thought Edouard, “and he wears a patched coat and a broken hat! And he is a bachelor, too! and he has no heirs! Does the man think that he is never going to die?”
Our young man bowed to the old miser and left the notary’s office. He returned to his newly-acquired property. The concierge was waiting in the courtyard, and seemed to have some question to ask him. Edouard guessed the cause of his embarrassment.
“This house is now mine,” he said to the peasant; “here is the deed stating that I am the owner of it. However, Monsieur Renâré will soon inform you of it himself.”
“Oh, I don’t doubt it, monsieur.”
“Are you attached to Monsieur Renâré?”