French and Oriental Love in a Harem | Page 5

an aunt, her mother's sister, Madame
Saulnier by name, who lives at No. 20, Rue Barbet de Jony. It will be a
sufficient introduction for you to call on this lady and tell her your
name. She is aware that I have appointed you moral guardian to my
daughter, and that it is you who will take my place. In short, she knows
all my intentions.
"I underline these words, for they sum up my fondest aspirations. I
have brought up Anna with the view of making her your wife, and thus
dividing my fortune between you; and I rely upon you to carry out this
arrangement. If marriage is for a man but a small matter, it is for a
woman the most serious event in life. With you, I am confident that the
dear girl will never be unhappy, and that is the thing of most

importance. If I never return from this last voyage, you will have plenty
of time to enjoy your bachelor's life; but I count upon your friendship
to render me this little service by marrying her when the right time
arrives. At present she is scarcely full-grown, and I think it will be best
for you to wait one or two years. I can assure you her mother had a fine
figure. You will find their portraits in one of the velvet frames in the
drawer of my desk. (Don't make a mistake: it is the one numbered 9.)
"Now that this matter is settled, it only remains for me to give you one
last injunction. If Férandet has followed my instructions, as I suppose,
he will have burnt a paper in your presence. This was a second will, by
which my daughter Anna Campbell would have been appointed my
universal legatee, had you not been living. So long as all happened in
the right order, you surviving me, you will understand I should not
have wished to complicate your affairs, by leaving you confronted with
a lot of legal formalities and intricacies. Such would be the
consequence of a female minor who is a foreigner inheriting jointly
with you: this would have plunged you into a veritable mire of
technicalities, restrictions, registrations, and goodness knows what.
Nevertheless, it is necessary to provide fully for the possibility of an
accident arising to you before your marriage with Anna. Our property
would go in that case to collaterals ... and God only knows from how
many quarters of the world these would not be forthcoming! As I wish
my fortune to remain with my children, it is indispensable that you
should not forget to make testamentary dispositions in favour of your
cousin, so that the whole property may go to her in the event of your
death, without any more dispute than there has been in your own case. I
leave this matter in your hands. You will find at my bankers all the
indications of surnames, Christian names, and descriptions which you
will require to enumerate, on the first page of my private ledger, where
the account which was opened for her commences, and yours also,
forming a separate banking account for you two. Madame Saulnier is
accustomed to draw what is required for her: therefore, until your
marriage, it is unnecessary for you to occupy yourself with this
detail--all you have to do is to confirm her credit.
"Now that we have settled this matter, my dear boy, go ahead! I do not

need, I am sure, to remind you to think occasionally of your old uncle: I
know you well, and that satisfies me. I thank you for what you have
been to me, and bless you from the bottom of my heart!
"Come, don't give way, old fellow: I am in Heaven, my soul is free and
rejoicing in the glories of the Infinite. Is there anything in this for you
to mourn over? Farewell."
After reading this letter, my dear Louis, need I tell you that I did the
contrary to what my poor uncle bade me, and that I gave way to my
grief. The tears streamed down my cheeks, my heart was breaking, and
I could no longer see this last word, "Farewell," as I pressed the letter
to my lips.
Such a mixture of tenderness and elevation of tone, such touching
solicitude to console my grief, such boundless confidence in my love
and fidelity! I felt crushed with my grief, proud only to think that I was
worthy of the generosity with which this noble-hearted man was
overwhelming me, prodigal as a father in his kindness. It seemed to me
at that moment that I had never loved him enough, and the grief at his
loss mingled itself with something like remorse. As if he were able hear