ertificates of twelve
thousand francs each; also, from the preceding volume, a number of
banknotes. 'He is,' said my godfather, 'the cause of all the trouble
which has brought you to the verge of the tomb; but God wills that you
shall yet be happy. You will not die now; you will marry Savinien.
If you love me, and if you love Savinien, I charge you to demand your
fortune from my nephew. Swear it.'"

Resplendent as though transfigured, the spectre had so powerful an
influence on Ursula's soul that she promised all her uncle asked, hoping
to put an end to the nightmare. She woke suddenly and found herself
standing in the middle of her bedroom, facing her godfather's portrait,
which had been placed there during her illness. She went back to bed and
fell asleep after much agitation, and on waking again she remembered all
the particulars of this singular vision; but she dared not speak of it.
Her judgment and her delicacy both shrank from revealing a dream the
end and object of which was her pecuniary benefit. She attributed the
vision, not unnaturally, to remarks made by La Bougival the preceding
evening, when the old woman talked of the doctor's intended liberality
and of her own convictions on that subject. But the dream returned, with
aggravated circumstances which made it fearful to the poor girl. On
the second occasion the icy hand of her godfather was laid upon her
shoulder, causing her the most horrible distress, an indefinable
sensation. "You must obey the dead," he said, in a sepulchral voice.
"Tears," said Ursula, relating her dreams, "fell from his white,
wide-open eyes."

The third time the vision came the dead man took her by the braids of
her long hair and showed her the post master talking with Goupil and
promising money if he would remove Ursula to Sens. Ursula then decided
to relate the three dreams to the Abbe Chaperon.

"Monsieur l'abbe," she said, "do you believe that the dead reappear?"

"My child, sacred history, profane history, and modern history, have
much testimony to that effect; but the Church has never made it an
article of faith; and as for science, in France science laughs at the
idea."

"What do _you_ believe?"

"That the power of God is infinite."

"Did my godfather ever speak to you of such matters?"

"Yes, often. He had entirely changed his views of them. His conversion,
as he told me at least twenty times, dated from the day when a woman in
Paris heard you praying for him in Nem