A Woodland Queen | Page 9

hesitation; called to him:

"Come, you also, Claudet, are not you one of the guardians of the
seals?"
And they wended their silent way, up the winding staircase of the turret.
The high, dark silhouette of Manette headed the procession; then
followed the justice, carefully choosing his foothold on the well-worn
stairs, the asthmatic old bailiff, breathing short and hard, the notary,
beating his foot impatiently every time that Seurrot stopped to take
breath, and finally the principal clerk and Claudet.
Manette, opening noiselessly the door of the deceased's room, entered,
as if it were a church, the somewhat stifling apartment. Then she threw
open the shutters, and the afternoon sun revealed an interior decorated
and furnished in the style of the close of the eighteenth century. An
inlaid secretary, with white marble top and copper fittings, stood near
the bed, of which the coverings had been removed, showing the
mattresses piled up under a down bed covered with blue-and-white
check.
As soon as the door was closed, the clerk settled himself at the table
with his packet of stamped paper, and began to run over, in a low, rapid
voice, the preliminaries of the inventory. In this confused murmuring
some fragments of phrases would occasionally strike the ear: "Chateau
of Vivey--deceased the eighth of October last--at the requisition of
Marie- Julien de Buxieres, comptroller of direct contributions at
Nancy--styling himself heir to Claude Odouart de Buxieres, his
cousin-german by blood--"
This last phrase elicited from Claudet a sudden movement of surprise.
"The inventory," explained Maitre Arbillot, "is drawn up at the
requisition of the only heir named, to whom we must make application,
if necessary, for the property left by the deceased."
There was a moment of silence, interrupted by a plaintive sigh from
Manette Sejournant and afterward by the tearing sound of the sealed
bands across the bureau, the drawers and pigeonholes of which were
promptly ransacked by the justice and his assistant.

Odouart de Buxieres had not been much of a scribe. A double Liege
almanac, a memorandum-book, in which he had entered the money
received from the sale of his wood and the dates of the payments made
by his farmers; a daybook, in which he had made careful note of the
number of head of game killed each day--that was all the bureau
contained.
"Let us examine another piece of furniture," murmured the justice.
Manette and Claudet remained unmoved. They apparently knew the
reason why none but insignificant papers had been found in the drawers,
for their features expressed neither surprise nor disappointment.
Another search through a high chest of drawers with large copper
handles was equally unprofitable. Then they attacked the secretary, and
after the key had been turned twice in the noisy lock, the lid went
slowly down. The countenances of both mother and son, hitherto so
unconcerned, underwent a slight but anxious change. The bailiff
continued his scrupulous search of each drawer under the watchful eye
of the justice, finding nothing but documents of mediocre importance;
old titles to property, bundles of letters, tradesmen's bills, etc. Suddenly,
at the opening of the last drawer, a significant "Ah!" from Stephen
Seurrot drew round him the heads of the justice and the notary, and
made Manette and Claudet, standing at the foot of the bed, start with
expectation. On the dark ground of a rosewood box lay a sheet of white
paper, on which was written:
"This is my testament."
With the compression of lip and significant shake of the head of a
physician about to take in hand a hopeless case of illness, the justice
made known to his two neighbors the text of the sheet of paper, on
which Claude Odouart de Buxieres had written, in his coarse,
ill-regulated hand, the following lines:
"Not knowing my collateral heirs, and caring nothing about them, I
give and bequeath all my goods and chattels--"

The testator had stopped there, either because he thought it better,
before going any further, to consult some legal authority more
experienced than himself, or because he had been interrupted in his
labor and had deferred completing this testifying of his last will until
some future opportunity.
M. Destourbet, after once more reading aloud this unfinished sentence,
exclaimed:
"Monsieur de Buxieres did not finish--it is much to be regretted!"
"My God! is it possible?" interrupted the housekeeper; "you think, then,
Monsieur justice, that Claudet does not inherit anything?"
"According to my idea," replied he, "we have here only a scrap of
unimportant paper; the name of the legatee is not indicated, and even
were it indicated, the testament would still be without force, being
neither dated nor signed."
"But perhaps Monsieur de Buxieres made another?"
"I think not; I am more inclined to suppose that he did not have time to
complete the