“But he owns Froidfond.”
“What is Froidfond worth?”
“I don’t know; but he has Noyers.”
“Nothing but a poor farm!”
“He has vineyards and fields.”
“Mere nothing,” said Charles disdainfully. “If your father had only twenty-four thousand francs a year do you suppose you would live in this cold, barren room?” he added, making a step in advance. “Ah! there you will keep my treasures,” he said, glancing at the old cabinet, as if to hide his thoughts.
“Go and sleep,” she said, hindering his entrance into the disordered room.
Charles stepped back, and they bid each other good-night with a mutual smile.
Both fell asleep in the same dream; and from that moment the youth began to wear roses with his mourning. The next day, before breakfast, Madame Grandet found her daughter in the garden in co
