"Nanon, we are alone--"
"Yes, mademoiselle; and if I knew where he was, the darling, I'd go on
foot to find him."
"The ocean is between us," she said.
While the poor heiress wept in company of an old servant, in that cold
dark house, which was to her the universe, the whole province rang,
from Nantes to Orleans, with the seventeen millions of Mademoiselle
Grandet. Among her first acts she had settled an annuity of twelve
hundred francs on Nanon, who, already possessed of six hundred more,
became a rich and enviable match. In less than a month that good soul
passed from single to wedded life under the protection of Antoine
Cornoiller, who was appointed keeper of all Mademoiselle Grandet's
estates. Madame Cornoiller possessed one striking advantage over her
contemporaries. Although she was fifty-nine years of age, she did not
look more than forty. Her strong features had resisted the ravages of
time. Thanks to the healthy customs of her semi-conventual life, she
laughed at old age from the vantage-ground of a rosy skin and an iron
constitution. Perhaps she never looked as well in her life as she did
on her marriage-day. She had all the benefits of her ugliness, and was
big and fat and strong, with a look of happiness on her indestructible
features which made a good many people envy Cornoiller.
"Fast colors!" said the draper.
"Quite likely to have children," said the salt merchant. "She's
pickled in brine, saving your presence.
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