Ursula

of the divine thought which hovers over the worlds." He seized Ursula and kissed her forehead. "Oh! my child, you will be rich and happy, and all through me!"
    "What is it?" exclaimed the abbe.
    "Oh, monsieur," cried La Bougival, catching Bongrand's blue overcoat, "let me kiss you for what you've just said."
    "Explain, explain! don't give us false hopes," said the abbe.
    "If I bring trouble on others by becoming rich," said Ursula, forseeing a criminal trial, "I—"
    "Remember," said the justice, interrupting her, "the happiness you will give to Savinien."
    "Are you mad?" said the abbe.
    "No, my dear friend," said Bongrand. "Listen; the certificates in the Funds are issued in series,—as many series as there are letters in the alphabet; and each number bears the letter of its series. But the certificates which are made out 'to bearer' cannot have a letter; they are not in any person's name. What you see there shows that the day the doctor placed his money in the Funds, he noted down, first, the number of his own certificate for fifteen thousand francs interest which bears his initial M; next, the numbers of three inscriptions to bearer; these are without a letter; and thirdly, the certificate of Ursula's share in the Funds, the number of which is 23,534, and which follows, as you see, that of the fifteen-thousand-franc certificate with lettering. This goes far to prove that those numbers are those of five certificates of investments made on the same day and noted down by the doctor in case of loss. I advised him to take certificates to bearer for Ursula's fortune, and he must have made his own investment and that of Ursula's little property the same day. I'll go to Dionis's office and look at the inventory. If the number of the certificate for his own investment is 23,533, letter M, we may be sure that he invested, through the same broker on the same day, first his own property on a single certificate; secondly his savings in three certificates to bearer (numbered, but without the series letter); thirdly, Ursula's own property; the transfer books will show, of course, undeniable proofs of this. Ha! Minoret, you deceiver, I have you—Motus, my children!"
    Whereupon he left them abruptly to reflect with admiration on the ways by which Providence had brought the innocent to victory.
    "The finger of God is in all this," cried the abbe.
    "Will they punish him?" asked Ursula.
    "Ah, mademoiselle," cried La Bougival. "I'd give the rope to hang him."
    Bongrand was already at Goupil's, now the appointed successor of Dionis, but he entered the office with a careless air. "I have a little matter to verify about the Minoret property," he said to Goupil.
    "What is it?" asked the latter.
    "The doctor left one or more certificates in the three-per-cent Funds?"
    "He left one for fifteen thousand francs a year," said Goupil; "I recorded it myself."
    "Then just look on the inventory," said Bongrand.
    Goupil took down a box, hunted through it, drew out a paper, found the place, and read:—
    "'Item, one certificate'—Here, read for yourself—under the number 23,533, letter M."
    "Do me the kindness to let me have a copy of that clause within an hour," said Bongrand.
    "What good is it to you?" asked Goupil.
    "Do you want to be a notary?" answered the justice of peace, looking sternly at Dionis's proposed successor.
    "Of course I do," cried Goupil. "I've swallowed too many affronts not to succeed now. I beg you to believe, monsieur, that the miserable creature once called Goupil has nothing in common with Maitre Jean-Sebastien-Marie Goupil, notary of Nemours and husband of Mademoiselle Massin. The two beings do not know each other. They are no longer even alike. Look at me!"
    Thus adjured Monsieur Bongrand took notice of Goupil's clothes. The new notary wore a white cravat, a shirt of dazzling whiteness adorned with ruby buttons, a waistcoat of red velvet, with trousers and coat of handsome black broad-cloth, made in Paris. His boots were neat; his hair, carefully combed, was perfumed—in short he was metamorphosed.
    "The fact is you are another man," said Bongrand.
    "Morally as well as physically. Virtue comes with practice—a practice; besides, money is the source of cleanliness—"
    "Morally as well as physically," returned Bongrand, settling his spectacles.
    "Ha! monsieur, is a man worth a hundred thousand francs a year ever a democrat? Consider me in future as an honest man who knows what refinement is, and who intends to love