The church was draped in black, and over the door a large escutcheon surmounted by a coronet announced to the passers-by that a nobleman was being buried. The ceremony was just over; those present went out slowly, passing by the coffin, and by Count de Vaudrec’s nephew, who shook hands and returned salutations.
When Georges du Roy and his wife left the church, they walked along side by side on their way home. They did not speak; they were both preoccupied. At length Georges said, as if talking to himself: “Truly it is very astonishing!”
Madeleine asked: “What, my friend?”
“That Vaudrec left us nothing.”
She blushed and said: “Why should he leave us anything? Had he any reason for doing so?” Then after several moments of silence, she continued: “Perhaps there is a will at a lawyer’s; we should not know of it.”
He replied: “That is possible, for he was our best friend. He dined with us twice a week; he came at any time; he was at home with us. He loved you as a father; he had no family, no children, no brothers nor sisters, only a nephew. Yes, there should be a will. I would not care for much — a remembrance to prove that he thought of us — that he recognized the affection we felt for him. We should certainly have a mark of friendship.”
She said with a pensive and indifferent air: “It is possible that there is a will.”
When they entered the house, the footman handed Madeleine a letter. She opened it and offered it to her husband.
“OFFICE OF M. LAMANEUR,
Notary.
17 Rue des Vosges,”
“Madame: Kindly call at my office at a quarter past two o’clock
Tuesday, Wednesday, or Thursday, on business which concerns
you.”
“Yours respectfully,”
“LAMANEUR.”
Georges, in his turn, colored.
“That is as it should be. It is strange, however, that he should write to you and not to me, for I am the head of the family legally.”
“Shall we go at once?” she asked.
“Yes, I should like to.”
After luncheon they set out for M. Lamaneur’s office.
The notary was a short, round man — round all over. His head looked like a ball fastened to another ball, which was supported by legs so short that they too almost resembled balls.
He bowed, as Du Roy and his wife were shown into his office, pointed to seats, and said, turning to Madeleine: “Madame, I sent for you in order to inform you of Count de Vaudrec’s will, which will be of interest to you.”
Georges could not help muttering: “I suspected that.”
The notary continued: “I shall read you the document which is very brief.”
“‘I, the undersigned, Paul Emile Cyprien Gontran, Count de
Vaudrec, sound both in body and mind, here express my last
wishes. As death might take me away at any moment, I wish to
take the precaution of drawing up my will, to be deposited with
M. Lamaneur.’”
“‘Having no direct heirs, I bequeath all my fortune, comprising
stocks and bonds for six hundred thousand francs and landed
property for five hundred thousand, to Mme. Claire Madeleine du
Roy unconditionally. I beg her to accept that gift from a dead
friend as a proof of devoted, profound, and respectful
affection.’”
The notary said: “That is all. That document bears the date of August last, and took the place of one of the same nature made two years ago in the name of Mme. Claire Madeleine Forestier. I have the first will, which would prove, in case of contestation on the part of the family, that Count de Vaudrec had not changed his mind.”
Madeleine cast down her eyes; her cheeks were pale. Georges nervously twisted his mustache.
The notary continued after a moment’s pause: “It is of course understood that Madame cannot accept that legacy without your consent.”
Du Roy rose and said shortly: “I ask time for reflection.”
The notary smiled, bowed, and replied pleasantly: “I comprehend the scruples which cause you to hesitate. I may add that M. de Vaudrec’s nephew, who was informed this morning of his uncle’s last wishes, expresses himself as ready to respect them if he be given one hundred thousand francs. In my opinion the will cannot be broken, but a lawsuit would cause a sensation which you would probably like to avoid. The world often judges uncharitably. Can you let me have your reply before Saturday?”
Georges bowed, and together with his wife left the office. When they arrived home, Du Roy closed the door and throwing his hat on the bed, asked: “What were the relations between you and Vaudrec?”
Madeleine, who was taking off her veil, turned around with a shudder: “Between us?”
“Yes, between you and him! One does not leave one’s entire fortune to a woman unless —”
She trembled, and could scarcely take out the pins which fastened the transparent tissue. Then she stammered in an agitated manner: “You are mad — you are — you are — you did not think — he would leave you anything!”
Georges replied, emphazing each word: “Yes, he could have left me something; me, your husband, his friend; but not you, my wife and his friend. The distinction is material in the eyes of the world.”
Madeleine gazed at him fixedly: “It seems to me that the world would have considered a legacy from him to you very strange.”
“Why?”
“Because,”— she hesitated, then continued: “Because you are my husband; because you were not well acquainted; because I have been his friend so long; because his first will, made during Forestier’s lifetime, was already in my favor.”
Georges began to pace to and fro. He finally said: “You cannot accept that.”
She answered indifferently: “Very well; it is not necessary then to wait until Saturday; you can inform M. Lamaneur at once.”
He paused before her, and they gazed into one another’s eyes as if by that mute and ardent interrogation they were trying to examine each other’s consciences. In a low voice he murmured: “Come, confess your relations.”
She shrugged her shoulders. “You are absurd. Vaudrec was very fond of me, very, but there was nothing more, never.”
He stamped his foot. “You lie! It is not possible.”
She replied calmly: “It is so, nevertheless.”
He resumed his pacing to and fro; then pausing again, he said: “Explain to me, then, why he left all his fortune to you.”
She did so with a nonchalant air: “It is very simple. As you said just now, we were his only friends, or rather, I was his only friend, for he knew me when a child. My mother was a governess in his father’s house. He came here continually, and as he had no legal heirs, he selected me. It is possible that he even loved me a little. But what woman has never been loved thus? He brought me flowers every Monday. You were never surprised at that, and he never brought you any. To-day he leaves me his fortune for the same reason, because he had no one else to leave it to. It would on the other hand have been extremely surprising if he had left it to you.”
“Why?”
“What are you to him?”
She spoke so naturally and so calmly that Georges hesitated before replying: “It makes no difference; we cannot accept that bequest under ............