"
This answer struck the sensitive chord of true delicacy in the minds
of all present.
"We love you, Monsieur Butscha," said Madame Mignon, with much feeling
in her voice.
"I've six hundred thousand francs of my own, this day," cried Dumay,
"and you shall be a notary and the successor of Latournelle."
The American wife took the hand of the poor hunchback and pressed it.
"What! you have six hundred thousand francs!" exclaimed Latournelle,
pricking up his ears as Dumay let fall the words; "and you allow these
ladies to live as they do! Modeste ought to have a fine horse; and why
doesn't she continue to take lessons in music, and painting, and--"
"Why, he has only had the money a few hours!" cried the little wife.
"Hush!" murmured Madame Mignon.
While these words were exchanged, Butscha's august mistress turned
towards him, preparing to make a speech:--
"My son," she said, "you are so surrounded by true affection that I
never thought how my thoughtless use of that familiar phrase might be
construed; but you must thank me for my little blunder, because it has
served to show you what friends your noble qualities have won.
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