Once alone, Louis pondered long over what he should do. Finally, coming to a determination, he placed the gold he had discovered into a traveling bag, thrust the will into his pocket, and at once proceeded to the office of his employer, the notary and friend mentioned by his father. The notary was much affected by the details of the probable death of his client and, having expressed his sympathy to Louis, promised to fulfill all the legal formalities necessary to establish the death of the old miser. "There remains one question I wish to ask," said Louis, when all the arrangements had been agreed upon. "When all these sad formalities have been gone through, can I dispose of my father's possessions?" "Most assuredly, my dear Louis," replied the notary. "These, then, are my intentions. I have brought you a sum of money amounting to over two hundred thousand francs, which I found hidden in a drawer; with this gold I wish to assure a pension of twelve hundred francs to the godmother of my fiance." "But is the young girl in a position that--" interrupted the notary. "The young girl in question earns her own bread," broke in Louis in his turn. "But I love her, and no power on earth can prevent me from marrying her," he concluded, in a firm, resolute tone. "Very well," assented the notary, realizing the uselessness of his observations; "the pension shall be paid to the person indicated by you." "Besides, I will take about fifteen thousand francs to fit up a suitable home," added Louis. "Only fifteen thousand francs!" exclaimed the notary, astonished at the modest request. "Will it be sufficient?" "My fiance and myself have been accustomed to a life of labor and poverty, and our ambitions have never gone beyond an existence of modest comfort. An income of a thousand crowns per annum, joined to our own earnings, will therefore amply suffice for our wants." "Joined to your earnings! What do you mean to do?" "Remain in your office, if I have not derogated in your estimation." "What! Work, with an income of over a hundred thousand livres?" "I cannot yet believe that this large fortune is mine, my dear friend; and even though my poor father's death may be established according to legal formalities, I shall always retain a hope that I may again see him." "My poor Louis, your hope is an illusion." "It is an illusion I shall retain as long as possible, monsieur; and while it lasts I shall never feel free to dispose of my father's money, save within the limits I have mentioned." "No son could act with more perfect, and honorable reserve, my dear Louis. But what will you do with the rest of the inheritance?" "So long as there remains the slightest hope of finding my father among the living, you will remain the trustee of his possessions."