ncs a year on outbuildings seemed actual folly to the
Minoret heirs. This folly, if it were one, was the beginning of a new
era in the doctor's existence, for he now (at a period when horses and
carriages were almost given away) brought back from Paris three fine
horses and a caleche.

When, in the early part of November, 1830, the old man came to church on
a rainy day in the new carriage, and gave his hand to Ursula to help
her out, all the inhabitants flocked to the square,--as much to see the
caleche and question the coachman, as to criticize the goddaughter, to
whose excessive pride and ambition Massin, Cremiere, the post master,
and their wives attributed this extravagant folly of the old man.

"A caleche! Hey, Massin!" cried Goupil. "Your inheritance will go at top
speed now!"

"You ought to be getting good wages, Cabirolle," said the post master to
the son of one of his conductors, who stood by the horses; "for it is
to be supposed an old man of eighty-four won't use up many horse-shoes.
What did those horses cost?"

"Four thousand francs. The caleche, though second-hand, was two
thousand; but it's a fine one, the wheels are patent."

"Yes, it's a good carriage," said Cremiere; "and a man must be rich to
buy that style of thing."

"Ursula means to go at a good pace," said Goupil. "She's right; she's
showing you how to enjoy life. Why don't you have fine carriages and
horses, papa Minoret? I wouldn't let myself be humiliated if I were
you--I'd buy a carriage fit for a prince."

"Come, Cabirolle, tell us," said Massin, "is it the girl who drives our
uncle into such luxury?"

"I don't know," said Cabirolle; "but she is almost mistress of the
house. There are masters upon masters down from Paris. They say now she
is going to study painting."

"Then I shall seize the occasion to have my portrait drawn," said Madame
Cremiere.

In the provinces they always say a picture is drawn, not painted.

"The old German is not dismissed, is he?" said Madame Massin.

"He was there yesterday," replied Cabirolle.

"Now," said Goupil, "you may as well give up counting on your
inheritance. Ursula is seventeen years old, and she is prettier than
ever. Travel forms young people, and the little minx has got your uncle
in the toils. Five or six parcels come down for her by the diligence
every week, and the dressmakers and milliners come too, to try on her
gowns and all the rest of it. Madame Dionis is furious. Watch for Urs