An objection came to his lips; he wanted to say, "It's too slow;" but he had not the courage, though she read his thought in his eyes. "It is slow, because that suits me," said she. "Before all, I must know about the will--and that I am trying to find out." She occupied herself constantly about this will, and during the long hours that she passed at Sauvresy's bedside, she gradually, with the greatest craft and delicacy, led her husband's mind in the direction of his last testament, with such success that he himself mentioned the subject which so absorbed Bertha. He said that he did not comprehend why people did not always have their worldly affairs in order, and their wishes fully written down, in case of accident. What difference did it make whether one were ill or well? At these words Bertha attempted to stop him. Such ideas, she said, pained her too much. She even shed real tears, which fell down her cheeks and made her more beautiful and irresistible than before; real tears which moistened her handkerchief. "You dear silly creature," said Sauvresy, "do you think that makes one die?" "No; but I do not wish it." "But, dear, have we been any the less happy because, on the day after our marriage, I made a will bequeathing you all my fortune? And, stop; you have a copy of it, haven't you? If you were kind, you would go and fetch it for me." She became very red, then very pale. Why did he ask for this copy? Did he want to tear it up? A sudden thought reassured her; people do not tear up a document which can be cancelled by a scratch of the pen on another sheet of paper. Still, she hesitated a moment. "I don't know where it can be." "But I do. It is in the left-hand drawer of the glass cupboard; come, please me by getting it." While she was gone, Sauvresy said to Hector: "Poor girl! Poor dear Bertha! If I died, she never would survive me!" Tremorel thought of nothing to reply; his anxiety was intense and visible. "And this man," thought he, "suspects something! No; it is not possible." Bertha returned. "I have found it," said she. "Give it to me." He took the copy of his will, and read it with evident satisfaction, nodding his head at certain passages in which he referred to his love for his wife. When he had finished reading, he said: "Now give me a pen and some ink." Hector and Bertha reminded him that it would fatigue him to write; but he insisted. The two guilty ones, seated at the foot of the bed and out of Sauvresy's sight, exchanged looks of alarm. What was he going to write? But he speedily finished it. "Take this," said he to Tremorel, "and read aloud what I have just added." Hector complied with his friend's request, with trembling voice: "This day, being sound in mind, though much suffering, I declare that I do not wish to change a line of this will. Never have I loved my wife more--never have I so much desired to leave her the heiress of all I possess, should I die before her. "CLEMENT SAUVRESY."