Daburon could not help saying.
"Was it not, sir? I was robbing myself of my own money! To crown his
hypocrisy, he left a will wherein he declared, in the name of Holy
Trinity, that he had no other aim in view, in thus acting, than my own
advantage. He wished, so he wrote, to habituate me to habits of good
order and economy, and keep me from the commission of follies. And I was
forty-five years old, and for twenty years I had been reproaching myself
if ever I spent a single sou uselessly. In short, he had speculated on
my good heart, he had . . . Bah! on my word, it is enough to disgust the
human race with filial piety!"
M. Tabaret's anger, albeit very real and justified, was so highly
ludicrous, that M. Daburon had much difficulty to restrain his laughter,
in spite of the real sadness of the recital.
"At least," said he, "this fortune must have given you pleasure."
"Not at all, sir, it came too late. Of what avail to have the bread when
one has no longer the teeth? The marriageable age had passed. I resigned
my situation, however, to make way for some one poorer than myself. At
the end of a month I was sick and tired of life; and, to replace the
affections that had been denied me, I resolved to give myself a passion,
a hobby, a mania.
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