being so clear. But Roland was thinking less of the loss than of the
prospect announced. Still, he dared not at once inquire into the clauses
of the will and the amount of the fortune, so to work round to these
interesting facts he asked:

"And what did he die of, poor Marechal?"

Maitre Lecanu did not know in the least.

"All I know is," said he, "that dying without any direct heirs, he
has left the whole of his fortune--about twenty thousand francs a year
($3,840) in three per cents--to your second son, whom he has known from
his birth up, and judges worthy of the legacy. If M. Jean should refuse
the money, it is to go to the foundling hospitals."

Old Roland could not conceal his delight and exclaimed:

"Sacristi! It is the thought of a kind heart. And if I had had no heir I
would not have forgotten him; he was a true friend."

The lawyer smiled.

"I was very glad," he said, "to announce the event to you myself. It is
always a pleasure to be the bearer of good news."

It had not struck him that this good news was that of the death of a
friend, of Roland's best friend; and the old man himself had suddenly
forgotten the intimacy he had but just spoken of with so much
conviction.