She was silent for a long while, she seemed to be drawing strength
from God, and to be measuring her words by the life that remained in
her.

"Listen," she began. "Those twelve thousand francs are all that you
have in the world. You must keep the money upon you, because when I am
dead the lawyers will come and seal everything up. Nothing will be
yours then, not even your mother. All that remains for you to do will
be to go out, poor orphan children, God knows where. I have made
Annette's future secure. She will have an annuity of a hundred crowns,
and she will stay at Tours no doubt. But what will you do for yourself
and your brother?"

She raised herself, and looked at the brave child, standing by her
bedside. There were drops of perspiration on his forehead, he was pale
with emotion, and his eyes were dim with tears.

"I have thought it over, mother," he answered in a deep voice. "I will
take Marie to the school here in Tours. I will give ten thousand
francs to our old Annette, and ask her to take care of them, and to
look after Marie. Then, with the remaining two thousand francs, I will
go to Brest, and go to sea as an apprentice. While Marie is at school,
I will rise to be a lieutenant on board a man-of-war. There, after
all, die in peace, my mother; I shall come back again a rich man, and
our little one shall go to the Ecole polytechnique, and I will find a
career to suit his bent."

A gleam of joy shone in the dying woman's eyes. Two tears brimmed
over, and fell over her fevered cheeks; then a deep sigh escaped