“And a key!” cried Massin, creeping up to her like a cat and seizing a key which fell from the bosom of her dress in her sudden movement.

“Yes,” she said, blushing, “that is the key of his study; he sent me there at the moment he was dying.”

The two men glanced at each other with horrid smiles, and then at Monsieur Bongrand, with a meaning look of degrading suspicion.  Ursula who intercepted it, rose to her feet, pale as if the blood had left her body.  Her eyes sent forth the lightnings that perhaps can issue only at some cost of life, as she said in a choking voice:—­

“Monsieur Bongrand, everything in this room is mine through the kindness of my godfather; they may have it all; I have nothing on me but the clothes I wear.  I shall leave the house and never return to it.”

She went to her godfather’s room, and no entreaties could make her leave it,—­the heirs, who now began to be slightly ashamed of their conduct, endeavoring to persuade her.  She requested Monsieur Bongrand to engage two rooms for her at the “Vieille Poste” inn until she could find some lodging in town where she could live with La Bougival.  She returned to her own room for her prayer-book, and spent the night, with the abbe, his assistant, and Savinien, in weeping and praying beside her uncle’s body.  Savinien came, after his mother had gone to bed, and knelt, without a word, beside his Ursula.  She smiled at him sadly, and thanked him for coming faithfully to share her troubles.

“My child,” said Monsieur Bongrand, bring her a large package, “one of your uncle’s heirs has taken these necessary articles from your drawers, for the seals cannot be opened for several days; after that you will recover everything that belongs to you.  I have, for your own sake, placed the seals on your room.”

“Thank you,” she replied, pressing his hand.  “Look at him again,—­he seems to sleep, does he not?”

The old man’s face wore that flower of fleeting beauty which rests upon the features of the dead who die a painless death; light appeared to radiate from it.

“Did he give you anything secretly before he died?” whispered M. Bongrand.

“Nothing,” she said; “he spoke only of a letter.”

“Good! it will certainly be found,” said Bongrand.  “How fortunate for you that the heirs demanded the sealing.”

At daybreak Ursula bade adieu to the house where her happy youth was passed; more particularly, to the modest chamber in which her love began.  So dear to her was it that even in this hour of darkest grief tears of regret rolled down her face for the dear and peaceful haven.  With one last glance at Savinien’s windows she left the room and the house, and went to the inn accompanied by La Bougival, who carried the package, by Monsieur Bongrand, who gave her his arm, and by Savinien, her true protector.

Thus it happened that in spite of all his efforts and cautions the worst fears of the justice of peace were realized; he was now to see Ursula without means and at the mercy of her benefactor’s heirs.