ying, it seems, can have no peace. Prepare
mustard poultices and apply them to the soles of Monsieur's feet."

"Your uncle is not dead," said the abbe, "and he may live some time
longer. He wishes for absolute silence, and no one beside him but his
niece. What a difference between the conduct of that young girl and
yours!"

"Old hypocrite!" exclaimed Cremiere. "I shall keep watch of him. It is
possible he's plotting something against our interests."

The post master had already disappeared into the garden, intending
to watch there and wait his chance to be admitted to the house as an
assistant. He now returned to it very softly, his boots making no noise,
for there were carpets on the stairs and corridors. He was able to
reach the door of his uncle's room without being heard. The abbe and the
doctor had left the house; La Bougival was making the poultices.

"Are we quite alone?" said the old man to his godchild.

Ursula stood on tiptoe and looked into the courtyard.

"Yes," she said; "the abbe has just closed the gate after him."

"My darling child," said the dying man, "my hours, my minutes even, are
counted. I have not been a doctor for nothing; I shall not last till
evening. Do not cry, my Ursula," he said, fearing to be interrupted
by the child's weeping, "but listen to me carefully; it concerns your
marriage to Savinien. As soon as La Bougival comes back go down to the
pagoda,--here is the key,--lift the marble top of the Boule buffet and
you will find a letter beneath it, sealed and addressed to you; take it
and come back here, for I cannot die easy unless I see it in your hands.
When I am dead do not let any one know of it immediately, but send for
Monsieur de Portenduere; read the letter together; swear to me now,
in his name and your own, that you will carry out my last wishes. When
Savinien has obeyed me, then announce my death, but not till then.
The comedy of the heirs will begin. God grant those monsters may not
ill-treat you."

"Yes godfather."

The post master did not listen to the end of this scene; he slipped away
on tip-toe, remembering that the lock of the study was on the library
side of the door. He had been present in former days at an argument
between the architect and a locksmith, the latter declaring that if the
pagoda were entered by the window on the river it would be much safer to
put the lock of the door opening into the library on the library side.
Dazzled by his hopes, and his ea