That was all the furniture, not enough to fill ten lines in an
inventory. "'My dear sir, if you had seen, as I then saw, that vast room, papered
and hung with brown, you would have felt yourself transported into a
scene of a romance. It was icy, nay more, funereal,' and he lifted his
hand with a theatrical gesture and paused. "'By dint of seeking, as I approached the bed, at last I saw Madame de
Merret, under the glimmer of the lamp, which fell on the pillows. Her face was as yellow as wax, and as narrow as two folded hands. The
Countess had a lace cap showing her abundant hair, but as white as linen
thread. She was sitting up in bed, and seemed to keep upright with
great difficulty. Her large black eyes, dimmed by fever, no doubt,
and half-dead already, hardly moved under the bony arch of her
eyebrows.--There,' he added, pointing to his own brow. 'Her forehead was
clammy; her fleshless hands were like bones covered with soft skin;
the veins and muscles were perfectly visible. She must have been very
handsome; but at this moment I was startled into an indescribable
emotion at the sight. Never, said those who wrapped her in her shroud,
had any living creature been so emaciated and lived. In short, it was
awful to behold! Sickness so consumed that woman, that she was no more
than a phantom. Her lips, which were pale violet, seemed to me not to
move when she spoke to me. "'Though my profession has familiarized me with such spectacles, by
calling me not infrequently to the bedside of the dying to record their
last wishes, I confess that families in tears and the agonies I have
seen were as nothing in comparison with this lonely and silent woman in
her vast chateau. I heard not the least sound, I did not perceive the
movement which the sufferer's breathing ought to have given to the
sheets that covered her, and I stood motionless, absorbed in looking at
her in a sort of stupor. In fancy I am there still. At last her large
eyes moved; she tried to raise her right hand, but it fell back on the
bed, and she uttered these words, which came like a breath, for her
voice was no longer a voice: "I have waited for you with the greatest
impatience." A bright flush rose to her cheeks. It was a great effort to
her to speak. "'"Madame," I began. She signed to me to be silent. At that moment
the old housekeeper rose and said in my ear, "Do not speak; Madame la
Comtesse is not in a state to bear the slightest noise, and what you say
might agitate her." "'I sat down. A few instants after, Madame de Merret collected all her
remaining strength to move her right hand, and slipped it, not without
infinite difficulty, under the bolster; she then paused a moment. With
a last effort she withdrew her hand; and when she brought out a sealed
paper, drops of perspiration rolled from her brow. "I place my will in
your hands--Oh! God! Oh!" and that was all. She clutched a crucifix that
lay on the bed, lifted it hastily to her lips, and died. "'The expression of her eyes still makes me shudder as I think of it. She must have suffered much! There was joy in her last glance, and it
remained stamped on her dead eyes. "'I brought away the will, and when it was opened I found that Madame de
Merret had appointed me her executor. She left the whole of her property
to the hospital at Vendome excepting a few legacies. But these were her
instructions as relating to la Grande Breteche: She ordered me to leave
the place, for fifty years counting from the day of her death, in the
state in which it might be at the time of her death, forbidding any one,
whoever he might be, to enter the apartments, prohibiting any repairs
whatever, and even settling a salary to pay watchmen if it were needful
to secure the absolute fulfilment of her intentions. At the expiration
of that term, if the will of the testatrix has been duly carried out,
the house is to become the property of my heirs, for, as you know, a
notary cannot take a bequest. Otherwise la Grande Breteche reverts to
the heirs-at-law, but on condition of fulfilling certain conditions
set forth in a codicil to the will, which is not to be opened till
the expiration of the said term of fifty years. The will has not been
disputed, so----' And without finishing his sentence, the lanky notary
looked at me with an air of triumph; I made him quite happy by offering
him my congratulations. "'Monsieur,' I said in conclusion, 'you have so vividly impressed
me that I fancy I see the dying woman whiter than her sheets; her
glittering eyes frighten me; I shall dream of her to-night.--But you
must have formed some idea as to the instructions contained in that
extraordinary will.' "'Monsieur,' said he, with comical reticence, 'I never allow myself
to criticise the conduct of a person who honors me with the gift of a
diamond.' "However, I soon loosened the tongue of the discreet notary of Vendome,
who communicated to me, not without long digressions, the opinions of
the deep politicians of both sexes whose judgments are law in Vendome. But these opinions were so contradictory, so diffuse, that I was
near falling asleep in spite of the interest I felt in this authentic
history. The notary's ponderous voice and monotonous accent, accustomed
no doubt to listen to himself and to make himself listened to by his
clients or fellow-townsmen, were too much for my curiosity. Happily, he
soon went away. "'Ah, ha, monsieur,' said he on the stairs, 'a good many persons would
be glad to live five-and-forty years longer; but--one moment!' and he
laid the first finger of his right hand to his nostril with a cunning
look, as much as to say, 'Mark my words!--To last as long as that--as
long as that,' said he, 'you must not be past sixty now.' "I closed my door, having been roused from my apathy by this last
speech, which the notary thought very funny; then I sat down in my
armchair, with my feet on the fire-dogs. I had lost myself in a romance
_a la_ Radcliffe, constructed on the juridical base given me by Monsieur
Regnault, when the door, opened by a woman's cautious hand, turned on
the hinges. I saw my landlady come in, a buxom, florid dame, always
good-humored, who had missed her calling in life. She was a Fleming, who
ought to have seen the light in a picture by Teniers. "'Well, monsieur,' said she, 'Monsieur Regnault has no doubt been giving
you his history of la Grande Breteche?' "'Yes, Madame Lepas.' "'And what did he tell you?' "I repeated in a few words the creepy and sinister story of Madame de
Merret. At each sentence my hostess put her head forward, looking at
me with an innkeeper's keen scrutiny, a happy compromise between the
instinct of a police constable, the astuteness of a spy, and the cunning
of a dealer. "'My good Madame Lepas,' said I as I ended, 'you seem to know more about
it. Heh? If not, why have you come up to me?' "'On my word, as an honest woman----'

"'Do not swear; your eyes are big with a secret. You knew Monsieur de
Merret; what sort of man was he?'