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“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. Uncertain whether she might not be forced to give up her fortune, she has lived with the utmost prudence. As for me, I wish to acquire property which shall be mine, so as to provide for my wife in case she is forced to lose hers.”

“But why didn’t you tell me all this? My dear nephew, you might have known that I love you enough to pay all your good debts, the debts of a gentleman. I’ll play the traditional uncle now, and revenge myself!”

“Ah! uncle, I know your vengeance! but let me get rich by my own industry. If you want to do me a real service, make me an allowance of two or three thousand francs a year, till I see my way to an enterprise for which I shall want capital. At this moment I am so happy that all I desire is just the means of living. I give lessons so that I may not live at the cost of any one. If you only knew the happiness I had in making that restitution! I found the Bourgneufs, after a good deal of trouble, living miserably and in need of everything. The old father was a lottery agent; the two daughters kept his books and took care of the house; the mother was always ill. The daughters are charming girls, but they have been cruelly taught that the world thinks little of beauty without money. What a scene it was! I entered their house the accomplice in a crime; I left it an honest man, who had purged his father’s memory. Uncle, I don’t judge him; there is such excitement, such passion in a lawsuit that even an honorable man may be led astray by them. Lawyers can make the most unjust claims legal; laws have convenient syllogisms to quiet consciences. My visit was a drama. To be Providence itself; actually to fulfil that futile wish, ‘If heaven were to send us twenty thousand francs a year,’–that silly wish we all make, laughing; to bring opulence to a family sitting by the light of one miserable lamp over a poor turf fire!–no, words cannot describe it. My extreme justice seemed to them unjust. Well! if there is a Paradise my father is happy in it now. As for me, I am loved as no man was ever loved yet. Madame Firmiani gives me more than happiness; she has inspired me with a delicacy of feeling I think I lacked. So I call her my dear conscience,–a love-word which expresses certain secret harmonies within our hearts. I find honesty profitable; I shall get rich in time by myself. I’ve an industrial scheme in my head, and if it succeeds I shall earn millions.”

“Ah! my boy, you have your mother’s soul,” said the old man, his eyes filling at the thought of his sister.

Just then, in spite of the distance between Octave’s garret and the street, the young man heard the sound of a carriage.

“There she is!” he cried; “I know her horses by the way they are pulled up.”

A few moments more, and Madame Firmiani entered the room.

“Ah!” she exclaimed, with a gesture of annoyance at seeing Monsieur de Bourbonne. “But our uncle is not in the way,” she added quickly, smiling; “I came to humbly entreat my husband to accept my fortune. The Austrian Embassy has just sent me a document which proves the death of Monsieur Firmiani, also the will, which his valet was keeping safely to put into my own hands. Octave, you can accept it all; you are richer than I, for you have treasures here” (laying her hand upon his heart) “to which none but God can add.” Then, unable to support her happiness, she laid her head upon her husband’s breast.

“My dear niece,” said the old man, “in my day we made love; in yours, you love. You women are all that is best in humanity; you are not even guilty of your faults, for they come through us.”

ADDENDUM

The following personages appear in other stories of the Human Comedy.

Blamont-Chauvry, Princesse de
The Thirteen
Madame Firmiani
The Lily of the Valley

Bourbonne, De
Madame Firmiani
The Vicar of Tours

Camps, Octave de
Madame Firmiani
The Member for Arcis

Camps, Madame Octave de
Madame Firmiani
The Government Clerks
A Woman of Thirty
A Daughter of Eve
The Member for Arcis