"Mon Dieu! monsieur, you were so dismal this morning! you looked like an undertaker's mute!"
"But now I am rich, Mère Monin, very rich! I have inherited twenty thousand francs a year! This letter tells me of it."
"Good God! is it possible, monsieur? An inheritance you didn't expect?"
"No more than I expect to be elected to the Academy.—Rich! wealthy! Now I shall no longer be despised; my homage will no longer be spurned; that adored woman will be mine!
"What a new life for me! ah! blessed change!
My grief has passed away like summer clouds."
My hat—my handkerchief—my gloves—I have all that I require. Ah! my certificates of birth and of baptism and marriage. No, I don't need the last; it's of no consequence. Now I'm off."
"Monsieur has not drunk his coffee."
"Drink it, Madame Monin, drink it; it is no more than fair that you should partake of my good fortune."
Chamoureau called on the notary, who confirmed what he had written and advised him to go at once to Havre, in order to obtain immediate possession of the fortune which was held at his disposal there.
That same day, our legatee took the express train for Havre. There he exhibited to the notary all the documents which proved that he was the Sigismond Chamoureau to whom Monsieur Eustache-Hector Chamoureau, his cousin and godfather, had bequeathed all his property.