He left a will.

I am his executor." "He is crazy," said his lawyer brother-in-law, impatiently.
"On the contr-y," replied the little priest, "'e 'as come ad hisse'f." Evariste spoke.
"Look at his face, Jean.

Men with that kind of face are the last to go crazy." "You have not proved that," replied Jean, with an attorney's obstinacy.
"You should have heard him talk the other day about that newspaper paragraph.

'I have taken Ursin Lemaitre's head; I have it with me; I claim the reward, but I desire to commute it to citizenship.' He is crazy." Of course Jean Thompson did not believe what he said; but he said it, and, in his vexation, repeated it, on the _banquettes_ and at the clubs; and presently it took the shape of a sly rumor, that the returned rover was a trifle snarled in his top-hamper.
This whisper was helped into circulation by many trivial eccentricities of manner, and by the unaccountable oddness of some of his transactions in business.
"My dear sir!" cried his astounded lawyer, one day, "you are not running a charitable institution!" "How do you know ?" said Monsieur Vignevielle.

There the conversation ceased.
"Why do you not found hospitals and asylums at once," asked the attorney, at another time, with a vexed laugh, "and get the credit of it ?" "And make the end worse than the beginning," said the banker, with a gentle smile, turning away to a desk of books.
"Bah!" muttered Jean Thompson.
Monsieur Vignevielle betrayed one very bad symptom.