your fool of an uncle lives he is no doubt
susceptible of being worked upon by remorse and religion. Your
inheritance will be the result of a combat between the Church and
the Rabouilleuse. There will inevitably come a time when that
woman will lose her grip on the old man, and religion will be
all-powerful. So long as your uncle makes no gift of the property
during his lifetime, and does not change the nature of his estate,
all may come right whenever religion gets the upper hand. For this
reason, you must beg Monsieur Hochon to keep an eye, as well as he
can, on the condition of your uncle's property. It is necessary to
know if the real estate is mortgaged, and if so, where and in
whose name the proceeds are invested. It is so easy to terrify an
old man with fears about his life, in case you find him despoiling
his own property for the sake of these interlopers, that almost
any heir with a little adroitness could stop the spoliation at its
outset. But how should your mother, with her ignorance of the
world, her disinterestedness, and her religious ideas, know how to
manage such an affair? However, I am not able to throw any light
on the matter. All that you have done so far has probably given
the alarm, and your adversaries may already have secured
themselves--
"That is what I call an opinion in good shape," exclaimed Monsieur
Hochon, proud of being himself appreciated by a Parisian lawyer.
"Oh! Desroches is a famous fellow," answered Joseph.
"It would be well to read that letter to the two women," said the old
man.
"There it is," said Joseph, giving it to him; "as to me, I want to be
off to-morrow; and I am now going to say good-by to my uncle."
"Ah!" said Monsieur Hochon, "I see that Monsieur Desroches tells you
in a postscript to burn the letter."
"You can burn it after showing it to my mother," said the painter.
Joseph dressed, crossed the little square, and called on his uncle,
who was just finishing breakfast. Max and Flore were at table.
"Don't disturb yourself, my dear uncle; I have only come to say
good-by."
"You are going?" said Max, exchanging glances with Flore.
"Yes; I have some work to do at the chateau of Monsieur de Serizy, and
I am all the more glad of it because his arm is long enough to do a
service to my poor brother in the Chamber of Peers."
"Well, well, go and work"; said old Rouget, with a silly air. Joseph
thought him extraordina
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