“Monsieur de Buxieres,” said he, pointing to a pile of law papers heaped upon the green cloth of the table; “see what I have prepared for you; you will find there all the titles and papers relating to the real estate, pictures, current notes, and various matters of your inheritance.  You had better keep them under lock and key, and study them at your leisure.  You will find them very interesting.  I need hardly say,” he added, “that I am at your service for any necessary advice or explanation.  But, in respect to any minor details, you can apply to Claudet Sejournant, who is very intelligent in such matters, and a good man of business.  And, by the way, Monsieur de Buxieres, will you allow me to commend the young man especially to your kindly consideration.”

But Julien interrupted him with an imperious gesture, and replied, frowning angrily: 

“If you please, Maitre Arbillot, we will not enter upon that subject.  I have already tried my best to show a kindly feeling toward Monsieur Claudet, but I have been only here twenty-four hours, and he has already found opportunities for affronting me twice.  I beg you not to speak of him again.”

The notary, who was just lighting his pipe, stopped suddenly.  Moved by a feeling of good-fellowship for the ‘grand chasserot’, who had, however, enjoined him to silence, he had it on the tip of his tongue to inform Julien of the facts concerning the parentage of Claudet de Buxieres; but, however much he wished to render Claudet a service, he was still more desirous of respecting the feelings of his client; so, between the hostility of one party and the backwardness of the other, he chose the wise part of inaction.

“That is sufficient, Monsieur de Buxieres,” replied he, “I will not press the matter.”

Thereupon he saluted his client, and went to rejoin the justice and the clerk, and the three comrades wended their way to Auberive through the woods, discussing the incidents of the breakfast, and the peculiarities of the new proprietor.

“This de Buxieres,” said M. Destourbet, “does not at all resemble his deceased cousin Claude!”

“I can quite understand why the two families kept apart from each other,” observed the notary, jocosely.

“Poor ’chasserot’!” whined Seurrot the clerk, whom the wine had rendered tender-hearted; “he will not have a penny.  I pity him with all my heart!”

As soon as the notary had departed, Julien came to the determination of transforming into a study the hall where he had been conferring with Maitre Arbillot, which was dignified with the title of “library,” although it contained at the most but a few hundred odd volumes.  The hall was spacious, and lighted by two large windows opening on the garden; the floor was of oak, and there was a great fireplace where the largest logs used in a country in which the wood costs nothing could find ample room to blaze and crackle.  It took the young man several days to make the necessary