I remember a decision of the royal court at Colmar, rendered in 1825, just before I took my degree, which declared that after the decease of a natural child his descendants could no longer be prohibited from inheriting.

Now, Ursula's father is dead." Goupil's argument produced what journalists who report the sittings of legislative assemblies are wont to call "profound sensation." "What does that signify ?" cried Dionis.

"The actual case of the bequest of an uncle to an illegitimate child may not yet have been presented for trial; but when it is, the sternness of French law against such children will be all the more firmly applied because we live in times when religion is honored.

I'll answer for it that out of such a suit as I propose you could get a compromise,--especially if they see you are determined to carry Ursula to a court of appeals." Here the joy of the heirs already fingering their gold was made manifest in smiles, shrugs, and gestures round the table, and prevented all notice of Goupil's dissent.

This elation, however, was succeeded by deep silence and uneasiness when the notary uttered his next word, a terrible "But!" As if he had pulled the string of a puppet-show, starting the little people in jerks by means of machinery, Dionis beheld all eyes turned on him and all faces rigid in one and the same pose.
"_But_ no law prevents your uncle from adopting or marrying Ursula," he continued.