A Woodland Queen | Page 8

canopy of
beeches, the leaves of which, just touched by the first frost, were
already falling from the branches, and, stamping their muddy feet on
the outer steps, advanced into the vestibule. The wide corridor, flagged
with black-and-white pavement, presented a cheerless aspect of bare
walls discolored by damp, and adorned alternately by stags' heads and
family portraits in a crumbling state of decay. The floor was thus
divided: on the right, the dining-room and the kitchen; on the left,
drawing-room and a billiard-hall. A stone staircase, built in one of the
turrets, led to the upper floors. Only one of these rooms, the kitchen,
which the justice and his bailiff entered, was occupied by the household.
A cold light, equally diffused in all directions, and falling from a large
window, facing north across the gardens, allowed every detail of the
apartment to be seen clearly; opposite the door of entrance, the tall

chimney-place, with its deep embrasure, gave ample shelter to the
notary, who installed himself upon a stool and lighted his pipe at one of
the embers, while his principal clerk sat at the long table, itemizing the
objects contained in the inventory.
In the opposite angle of the chimney-place, a lad of twenty-four years,
no other than Claudet, called by the friendly nickname of the grand
chasserot, kept company with the notary, while he toyed, in an absent
fashion, with the silky ears of a spaniel, whose fluffy little head lay in
his lap. Behind him, Manette Sejournant stood putting away her shawl
and prayerbook in a closet. A mass had been said in the morning at the
church, for the repose of the soul of the late Claude de Buxieres, and
mother and son had donned their Sunday garments to assist at the
ceremony.
Claudet appeared ill at ease in his black, tightly buttoned suit, and kept
his eyes with their heavy lids steadily bent upon the head of the animal.
To all the notary's questions, he replied only by monosyllables, passing
his fingers every now and then through his bushy brown locks, and
twining them in his forked beard, a sure indication with him of
preoccupation and bad humor.
Manette had acquired with years an amount of embonpoint which
detracted materially from the supple and undulating beauty which had
so captivated Claude de Buxieres. The imprisonment of a tight corset
caused undue development of the bust at the expense of her neck and
throat, which seemed disproportionately short and thick. Her cheeks
had lost their gracious curves and her double chin was more
pronounced. All that remained of her former attractions were the
caressing glance of her eye, tresses still golden and abundant,
especially as seen under the close cap of black net, white teeth, and a
voice that had lost nothing of its insinuating sweetness.
As the justice and his bailiff entered, Maitre Arbillot, and a petulant
little man with squirrel-like eyes and a small moustache, arose quickly.
"Good-morning, gentlemen," he cried. "I was anxiously expecting
you--if you are willing, we will begin our work at once, for at this

season night comes on quickly."
"At your orders, Maitre Arbillot," replied the justice, laying his hat
down carefully on the window-sill; "we shall draw out the formula for
raising the seals. By the way, has no will yet been found?"
"None to my knowledge. It is quite clear to me that the deceased made
no testament, none at least before a notary."
"But," objected M. Destourbet, "he may have executed a holograph
testament."
"It is certain, gentlemen," interrupted Manette, with her soft, plaintive
voice, "that our dear gentleman did not go without putting his affairs in
order. 'Manette,' said he, not more than two weeks ago; 'I do not intend
you shall be worried, neither you nor Claudet, when I am no longer
here. All shall be arranged to your satisfaction.' Oh! he certainly must
have put down his last wishes on paper. Look well around, gentlemen;
you will find a will in some drawer or other."
While she applied her handkerchief ostentatiously to her nose and
wiped her eyes, the justice exchanged glances with the notary.
"Maitre Arbillot, you think doubtless with me, that we ought to begin
operations by examining the furniture of the bedroom?"
The notary inclined his head, and notified his chief clerk to remove his
papers to the first floor.
"Show us the way, Madame," said the justice to the housekeeper; and
the quartet of men of the law followed Manette, carrying with them a
huge bunch of keys.
Claudet had risen from his seat when the justice arrived. As the party
moved onward, he followed hesitatingly, and then halted, uncertain
how to decide between the desire to assist in the search and the fear of
intruding. The notary, noticing his