La Grande Breteche | Page 7

her right hand, but it fell back on the bed, and
she uttered these words, which came like a breath, for her voice was no
longer a voice: "I have waited for you with the greatest impatience." A

bright flush rose to her cheeks. It was a great effort to her to speak.
" ' "Madame," I began. She signed to me to be silent. At that moment
the old housekeeper rose and said in my ear, "Do not speak; Madame la
Comtesse is not in a state to bear the slightest noise, and what you say
might agitate her."
" 'I sat down. A few instants after, Madame de Merret collected all her
remaining strength to move her right hand, and slipped it, not without
infinite difficulty, under the bolster; she then paused a moment. With a
last effort she withdrew her hand; and when she brought out a sealed
paper, drops of perspiration rolled from her brow. "I place my will in
your hands--Oh! God! Oh!" and that was all. She clutched a crucifix
that lay on the bed, lifted it hastily to her lips, and died.
" 'The expression of her eyes still makes me shudder as I think of it.
She must have suffered much! There was joy in her last glance, and it
remained stamped on her dead eyes.
" 'I brought away the will, and when it was opened I found that
Madame de Merret had appointed me her executor. She left the whole
of her property to the hospital at Vendome excepting a few legacies.
But these were her instructions as relating to la Grande Breteche: She
ordered me to leave the place, for fifty years counting from the day of
her death, in the state in which it might be at the time of her death,
forbidding any one, whoever he might be, to enter the apartments,
prohibiting any repairs whatever, and even settling a salary to pay
watchmen if it were needful to secure the absolute fulfilment of her
intentions. At the expiration of that term, if the will of the testatrix has
been duly carried out, the house is to become the property of my heirs,
for, as you know, a notary cannot take a bequest. Otherwise la Grande
Breteche reverts to the heirs-at- law, but on condition of fulfilling
certain conditions set forth in a codicil to the will, which is not to be
opened till the expiration of the said term of fifty years. The will has
not been disputed, so----' And without finishing his sentence, the lanky
notary looked at me with an air of triumph; I made him quite happy by
offering him my congratulations.
" 'Monsieur,' I said in conclusion, 'you have so vividly impressed me
that I fancy I see the dying woman whiter than her sheets; her glittering
eyes frighten me; I shall dream of her to-night.--But you must have
formed some idea as to the instructions contained in that extraordinary

will.'
" 'Monsieur,' said he, with comical reticence, 'I never allow myself to
criticise the conduct of a person who honors me with the gift of a
diamond.'
"However, I soon loosened the tongue of the discreet notary of
Vendome, who communicated to me, not without long digressions, the
opinions of the deep politicians of both sexes whose judgments are law
in Vendome. But these opinions were so contradictory, so diffuse, that I
was near falling asleep in spite of the interest I felt in this authentic
history. The notary's ponderous voice and monotonous accent,
accustomed no doubt to listen to himself and to make himself listened
to by his clients or fellow-townsmen, were too much for my curiosity.
Happily, he soon went away.
" 'Ah, ha, monsieur,' said he on the stairs, 'a good many persons would
be glad to live five-and-forty years longer; but--one moment!' and he
laid the first finger of his right hand to his nostril with a cunning look,
as much as to say, 'Mark my words!--To last as long as that--as long as
that,' said he, 'you must not be past sixty now.'
"I closed my door, having been roused from my apathy by this last
speech, which the notary thought very funny; then I sat down in my
armchair, with my feet on the fire-dogs. I had lost myself in a romance
/a la/ Radcliffe, constructed on the juridical base given me by Monsieur
Regnault, when the door, opened by a woman's cautious hand, turned
on the hinges. I saw my landlady come in, a buxom, florid dame,
always good-humored, who had missed her calling in life. She was a
Fleming, who ought to have seen the light in a picture by Teniers.
" 'Well, monsieur,' said she, 'Monsieur Regnault has no doubt been
giving you his