to be expecting someone, for she turned round. Now, Madame de Portenduère turning round was as serious an act as that of Doctor Minoret’s conversion.
“Whom does Madame de Portenduère want?” said Madame Massin, rejoining the heirs, who were petrified by the old man’s answers.
“She is looking for the curé,” said the notary Dionis, who struck his forehead like a man overcome by some recollection or a forgotten idea, “I have something to tell you all, and the inheritance is saved! Let us go and breakfast happily with Madame Minoret.”
It may be imagined with what eagerness the heirs followed the notary to the post-house. Goupil accompanied his friend, arm-in-arm, whispering to him with a hideous smile:
“There are some gay women.”
“What do I care?” replied the son of the family, shrugging his shoulders, “I am madly in love with Florine, the most heavenly creature in the world.”
“And who is Florine?” asked Goupil. “I care for you too much to let you be bamboozled by any creatures.”
“Florine is the famous Nathan’s passion, and my folly is useless, for she has positively refused to marry me.”
“Women who are foolish with their bodies are often wise in their heads,” said Goupil.
“If only you could see her, you would not make use of such expressions,” said Désiré languishingly.
“If I saw you blighting your future for what can
