a Champagnard of the
_vieille roche_. Achille did not deceive me in declaring that I should
see two of my former acquaintances. You," he said, addressing the
organist, "you are little Bricheteau, the nephew of our good abbess,
Mother Marie-des-Anges; but as for that tall skeleton, looking like
a duke and peer, I can't recall his name. However, I don't blame my
memory; after eighty-six years' service it may well be rusty."

"Come, grandfather," said Achille Pigoult, "brush up your memory; and
you, gentlemen, not a word, not a gesture. I want to be clear in my own
mind. I have not the honor to know the client for whom I am asked to
draw certain deeds, and I must, as a matter of legal regularity, have
him identified."

While his son spoke, the old man was evidently straining his memory.
My father, fortunately, has a nervous twitching of the face, which
increased under the fixed gaze his _certifier_ fastened upon him.

"Hey! _parbleu_! I have it!" he cried. "Monsieur is the Marquise de
Sallenauve, whom we used to call the 'Grimacer,' and who would now be
the owner of the Chateau d'Arcis if, instead of wandering off, like
the other fools, into emigration, he had stayed at home and married his
pretty cousin."

"You are still _sans-culotte_, it seems," said the marquis, laughing.

"Messieurs," said the notary, gravely, "the proof I had arranged for
myself is conclusive. This proof, together with the title-deeds and
documents Monsieur le marquis has shown to me, and which he deposits in
my hands, together with the certificate of identity sent to me by Mother
Marie-des-Anges, who cannot, under the rules of her Order, come to
my office, are sufficient for the execution of the deeds which I have
here--already prepared. The presence of two witnesses is required for
one of them. Monsieur Bricheteau will, of course, be the witness on your
side and on the other my father, if agreeable to you; it is an honor
that, as I think, belongs to him of right, for, as one may say, this
matter has revived his memory."

"Very good, messieurs, let us proceed," said Jacques Bricheteau,
heartily.

The notary sat down at his desk; the rest of us sat in a circle around
him, and the reading of the first document began. Its purport
was to establish, authentically, the recognition made by
Francois-Henri-Pantaleon Dumirail, Marquis de Sallenauve, of me, his
son. But in the course of the reading a difficulty came up. Notarial
deeds must, under pai