'
'But has he really compose no will?'
'I really don't know, Madame.'
'Ah, little rogue! you will not tell--but you are not such fool as you
feign yourself. No, no; you know everything. Come, tell me all about--it is
for your advantage, you know. What is in his will, and when he wrote?'
'But, Madame, I really know nothing of it. I can't say whether there is a
will or not. Let us talk of something else.'
'But, cheaile, it will not kill Monsieur Ruthyn to make his will; he will
not come to lie here a day sooner by cause of that; but if he make no will,
you may lose a great deal of the property. Would not that be pity?'
'I really don't know anything of his will. If papa has made one, he has
never spoken of it to me. I know he loves me--that is enough.'
'Ah! you are not such little goose--you do know everything, of course. Come
tell me, little obstinate, otherwise I will break your little finger. Tell
me everything.'
'I know nothing of papa's will. You don't know, Madame, how you hurt me.
Let us speak of something else.'
'You do know, and you must tell, petite dure-tete, or I will break a your
little finger.
Pages:
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66