“If she asked for my place for Garangeot, she will think that she owes me a good turn by so much the more,” said Pons to himself.

Thanks to the prevailing confusion in the porter’s lodge, Schmucke succeeded in getting out of the house.  He returned with the utmost speed, fearing to leave Pons too long alone.  M. Trognon reached the house just as Schmucke came in.  Albeit Cibot was dying, his wife came upstairs with the notary, brought him into the bedroom, and withdrew, leaving Schmucke and Pons with M. Trognon; but she left the door ajar, and went no further than the next room.  Providing herself with a little hand-glass of curious workmanship, she took up her station in the doorway, so that she could not only hear but see all that passed at the supreme moment.

“Sir,” said Pons, “I am in the full possession of my faculties, unfortunately for me, for I feel that I am about to die; and doubtless, by the will of God, I shall be spared nothing of the agony of death.  This is M. Schmucke”—­(the notary bowed to M. Schmucke)—­“my one friend on earth,” continued Pons.  “I wish to make him my universal legatee.  Now, tell me how to word the will, so that my friend, who is a German and knows nothing of French law, may succeed to my possessions without any dispute.”

“Anything is liable to be disputed, sir,” said the notary; “that is the drawback of human justice.  But in the matter of wills, there are wills so drafted that they cannot be upset—­”

“In what way?” queried Pons.

“If a will is made in the presence of a notary, and before witnesses who can swear that the testator was in the full possession of his faculties; and if the testator has neither wife nor children, nor father nor mother—­”

“I have none of these; all my affection is centred upon my dear friend Schmucke here.”

The tears overflowed Schmucke’s eyes.

“Then, if you have none but distant relatives, the law leaves you free to dispose of both personalty and real estate as you please, so long as you bequeath them for no unlawful purpose; for you must have come across cases of wills disputed on account of the testator’s eccentricities.  A will made in the presence of a notary is considered to be authentic; for the person’s identity is established, the notary certifies that the testator was sane at the time, and there can be no possible dispute over the signature.—­Still, a holograph will, properly and clearly worded, is quite as safe.”

“I have decided, for reasons of my own, to make a holograph will at your dictation, and to deposit it with my friend here.  Is this possible?”

“Quite possible,” said the notary.  “Will you write?  I will begin to dictate—­”

“Schmucke, bring me my little Boule writing-desk.—­Speak low, sir,” he added; “we may be overheard.”

“Just tell me, first of all, what you intend,” demanded the notary.

Ten minutes later La Cibot saw the notary look over the will, while Schmucke lighted a taper (Pons watching her reflection all the while in a mirror).  She saw the envelope sealed, saw Pons give it to Schmucke, and heard him say that it must be put away in a secret drawer in his bureau.  Then the testator asked for the key, tied it to the corner of his handkerchief, and slipped it under his pillow.