"
"Then you must have news from Monsieur Mignon," resumed the notary.
"He is on his way home," said Madame Mignon; "but let us keep the
secret to ourselves. When my husband learns how faithful Butscha has
been to us, how he has shown us the warmest and the most disinterested
friendship when others have given us the cold shoulder, he will not
let you alone provide for him, Dumay. And so, my friend," she added,
turning her blind face toward Butscha; "you can begin at once to
negotiate with Latournelle."
"He's of legal age, twenty-five and a half years. As for me, it will
be paying a debt, my boy, to make the purchase easy for you," said the
notary.
Butscha was kissing Madame Mignon's hand, and his face was wet with
tears as Modeste opened the door of the salon.
"What are you doing to my Black Dwarf?" she demanded. "Who is making
him unhappy?"
"Ah! Mademoiselle Mignon, do we luckless fellows, cradled in
misfortune, ever weep for grief? They have just shown me as much
affection as I could feel for them if they were indeed my own
relations. I'm to be a notary; I shall be rich. Ha! ha! the poor
Butscha may become the rich Butscha.
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