“This course is, in fact, directed by the note which accompanies the will,” said M. Dumesnil, “as it was deposited, in the year 1682, in the hands of Master Thomas Le Semelier, king’s counsel, and notary of the Chatelet of Paris, then living at No. 13, Place Royale.”

So saying, M. Dumesnil drew from a portfolio of red morocco a large parchment envelope, grown yellow with time; to this envelope was annexed, by a silken thread, a note also upon vellum.

“Gentlemen,” said the notary, “if you please to sit down, I will read the subjoined note, to regulate the formalities at the opening of the will.”

The notary, Rodin, Father d’Aigrigny, and Gabriel, took seats.  The young priest, having his back turned to the fireplace, could not see the two portraits.  In spite of the notary’s invitation, Samuel remained standing behind the chair of that functionary, who read as follows: 

“’On the 13th February, 1832, my will shall be carried to No. 3, in the Rue Saint-Francois.

“’At ten o’clock precisely, the door of the Red Room shall be opened to my heirs, who will no doubt have arrived long before at Paris, in anticipation of this day, and will have had time to establish their line of descent.

“’As soon as they are assembled, the will shall be read, and, at the last stroke of noon, the inheritance shall be finally settled in favor of those of my kindred, who according to my recommendation (preserved, I hope, by tradition in my family, during a century and a half); shall present themselves in person, and not by agents, before twelve o’clock, on the 13th of February, in the Rue Saint-Francois.’”

Having read these words in a sonorous voice, the notary stopped an instant, and resumed, in a solemn tone:  “M.  Gabriel Francois Marie de Rennepont, priest, having established, by legal documents, his descent on the father’s side, and his relationship to the testator, and being at this hour the only one of the descendants of the Rennepont family here present, I open the testament in his presence, as it has been ordered.”

So saying, the notary drew from its envelope the will, which had been previously opened by the President of the Tribunal, with the formalities required by law.  Father d’Aigrigny leaned forward, and resting his elbow on the table, seemed to pant for breath.  Gabriel prepared himself to listen with more curiosity than interest.  Rodin was seated at some distance from the table, with his old hat between his knees, in the bottom of which, half hidden by the folds of a shabby blue cotton handkerchief, he had placed his watch.  The attention of the socius was divided between the least noise from without, and the slow evolution of the hands of the watch, which he followed with his little, wrathful eye, as if hastening their progress, so great was his impatience for the hour of noon.

The notary, unfolding the sheet of parchment, read what follows, in the midst of profound attention: