flushed. He gave Pecuchet blows with his fist in the back, and for
five minutes talked utter nonsense.

They chuckled in spite of themselves. This inheritance, surely, ought to
mount up----?

"Ah! that would be too much of a good thing. Let's talk no more about
it."

They did talk again about it. There was nothing to prevent them from
immediately demanding explanations. Bouvard wrote to the notary with
that view.

The notary sent a copy of the will, which ended thus:

_"Consequently, I give to Francois-Denys-Bartholemee
Bouvard, my recognised natural son, the portion of my
property disposable by law."_

The old fellow had got this son in his youthful days, but he had
carefully kept it dark, making him pass for a nephew; and the "nephew"
had always called him "my uncle," though he had his own idea on the
matter. When he was about forty, M. Bouvard married; then he was left a
widower. His two legitimate sons having gone against his wishes, remorse
took possession of him for the desertion of his other child during a
long period of years. He would have even sent for the lad but for the
influence of his female cook. She left him, thanks to the manoeuvres of
the family, and in his isolation, when death drew nigh, he wished to
repair the wrongs he had done by bequeathing to the fruit of his early
love all that he could of his fortune. It ran up to half a million
francs, thus giving the copying-clerk two hundred and fifty thousand
francs. The eldest of the brothers, M. Etienne, had announced that he
would respect the will.

Bouvard fell into a kind of stupefied condition. He kept repeating in a
low tone, smiling with the peaceful smile of drunkards: "An income of
fifteen thousand livres!"--and Pecuchet, whose head, however, was
stronger, was not able to get over it.

They were rudely shaken by a letter from Tardivel. The other son, M.
Alexandre, declared his intention to have the entire matter decided by
law, and even to question the legacy, if he could, requiring, first of
all, to have everything sealed, and to have an inventory taken and a
sequestrator appointed, etc. Bouvard got a bilious attack in
consequence. Scarcely had he recovered when he started for Savigny, from
which place he returned without having brought the matter nearer to a
settlement, and he could only grumble about having gone to the expense
of a journey for nothing. Then followed sleepless nights, alternations
of rage and hope, of