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Page 65
The venerable notary announced me--
"Monsieur Caspar H�as!"
I bowed.
"My daughter Lothe!" added the good man.
And whilst I felt in myself a reviving taste for the beautiful, and was
admiring Mademoiselle Lothe's pretty little chubby nose, the rosy lips,
and the large blue eyes, her dainty little figure, and her dimpled hands,
Ma�tre Becker invited me to sit down at the table, informing me that he
had been expecting me, and that before entering on matters of business it
would be well to take a little refreshment, a glass of Bordeaux, etc., an
invitation of which I fully recognised the propriety, and which I
accepted very willingly.
And so we sit down. We talk first of the beautiful country. And I form
opinions about the old gentleman, and wonder what a notary is likely to
make at Lauterbach!
"Mademoiselle, will you take a wing?"
"Monsieur, you are very kind; thank you, I will."
Lothe looks down bashfully. I fill her glass, in which she dips her rosy
lips. Papa is in good spirits; he tells me about hunting and fishing.
"Of course Monsieur H�as will live as we do in the country. We have
excellent rabbit-warrens. The rivers abound in trout. The shooting in the
forests is let out. People mostly spend their evenings at the inn.
Monsieur the inspector of woods and forests is a delightful young man.
The _juge-de-pa�x_ is a capital whist-player," and so on, and so on.
I listen, and think all this quiet life must be delightful. Mademoiselle
Lothe pleases me a good deal. She does not talk much, but she smiles and
looks so agreeable! How loving and amiable she must be!
At last the coffee came, then the kirschwasser. Mademoiselle Lothe
retires, and the old lawyer gradually passes to business. He explains to
me the nature of my uncle's property, and I listen attentively. There was
no part of the will in dispute; there were no legacies, no mortgages.
Everything is clear and straightforward. Happy Caspar! Happy man!
Then we went into the office to look over the deeds. The close air of
this place of dry, hard business, those long rows of boxes, the files of
bills--all these together put weak notions of love out of my head. I sat
down in an arm-chair while Monsieur Becker, collecting his thoughts, puts
his horn spectacles in their place upon his long, sharp nose.
"These deeds relate to your meadow-land at Eichmatt. There, Monsieur
H�as, you have a hundred acres of excellent land, the finest and
best-watered in the commune; two and even three crops a year are got off
that land. It brings in four thousand francs a year. Here are the deeds
belonging to your vine-growing land at Sonnenth�l, thirty-five acres in
all. One year with another you may get from this two hundred hectolitres
(4,400 gals.) of light wine, sold on the ground at twelve or fifteen
francs the hectolitre. Good years make up for the bad. This, Monsieur
H�as, is your title to the forest of Romelstein, containing fifty or
sixty hectares (a hectare is 2-1/2 acres) of excellent timber. This is
your property at Hacmatt; this your pasture-land at Tiefenthal. This is
your farm at Gr�neswald, and here is the deed belonging to your house at
Lauterbach; it is the largest house in the place, and was built in the
sixteenth century."
"Indeed, Monsieur Becker! but is that saying much in its favour?"
"Certainly, certainly. It was built by Jean Burckhardt, Count of Barth,
for a hunting-box. Many generations have lived in it since then, but it
has never been neglected, and it is now in excellent repair."
I thanked Monsieur Becker for the information he had given me, and having
secured all my title-deeds in a large portfolio which he was good enough
to lend me, I took my leave, more full than ever of my vast importance!
Arriving before my house, I enjoyed introducing the key into the lock of
the door, and bringing down my foot firmly and proudly on the first step.
"This is all mine!" I cried enthusiastically.
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