s features. He seemed to have a presentiment that there would be some
inheritance to sample and divide, involving inventories and engrossing;
an inheritance rich in fees and deeds to draw up, and something as juicy
as the trembling fillet of beef in which their host had just plunged his
knife.

"Oh, ho! we are to have breakfast in the presence of a notary," cried
Cursy.

"You have come here just at the right time," said the banker, indicating
the breakfast; "you can jot down the numbers, and initial off all the
dishes."

"There is no will to make here, but contracts of marriage there may be,
perhaps," said the scholar, who had made a satisfactory arrangement for
the first time in twelve months.

"Oh! Oh!"

"Ah! Ah!"

"One moment," cried Cardot, fairly deafened by a chorus of wretched
jokes. "I came here on serious business. I am bringing six millions for
one of you." (Dead silence.) "Monsieur," he went on, turning to Raphael,
who at the moment was unceremoniously wiping his eyes on a corner of the
table-napkin, "was not your mother a Mlle. O'Flaharty?"

"Yes," said Raphael mechanically enough; "Barbara Marie."

"Have you your certificate of birth about you," Cardot went on, "and
Mme. de Valentin's as well?"

"I believe so."

"Very well then, monsieur; you are the sole heir of Major O'Flaharty,
who died in August 1828 at Calcutta."

"An _incalcuttable_ fortune," said the critic.

"The Major having bequeathed several amounts to public institutions in
his will, the French Government sent in a claim for the remainder to
the East India Company," the notary continued. "The estate is clear and
ready to be transferred at this moment. I have been looking in vain for
the heirs and assigns of Mlle. Barbara Marie O'Flaharty for a fortnight
past, when yesterday at dinner----"

Just then Raphael suddenly staggered to his feet; he looked like a man
who has just received a blow. Acclamation took the form of silence, for
stifled envy had been the first feeling in every breast, and all eyes
devoured him like flames. Then a murmur rose, and grew like the voice of
a discontented audience, or the first mutterings of a riot, as everybody
made some comment on this news of great wealth brought by the notary.

This abrupt subservience of fate brought Raphael thoroughly to his
senses. He immediately spread out the table-napkin with which he had
lately taken the measure of the piece of shagreen. He heeded nothing as
he laid the