Old Conyncks guessed his thoughts, and said with
blunt frankness while they were breakfasting:--
"I have some of your pictures, cousin; I have a taste for pictures,--a
ruinous passion, but we all have our manias."
"Dear uncle!" exclaimed Marguerite.
"The world declares that you are ruined, cousin; but the treasure of a
Claes is there," said Conyncks, tapping his forehead, "and here,"
striking his heart; "don't you think so? I count upon you: and for
that reason, having a few spare ducats in my wallet, I put them to use
in your service."
"Ah!" cried Balthazar, "I will repay you with treasures--"
"The only treasures we possess in Flanders are patience and labor,"
replied Conyncks, sternly. "Our ancestor has those words engraved upon
his brow," he said, pointing to the portrait of Van Claes.
Marguerite kissed her father and bade him good-bye, gave her last
directions to Josette and to Felicie, and started with Monsieur
Conyncks for Paris. The great-uncle was a widower with one child, a
daughter twelve years old, and he was possessed of an immense fortune.
It was not impossible that he would take a wife; consequently, the
good people of Douai believed that Mademoiselle Claes would marry her
great-uncle. The rumor of this marriage reached Pierquin, and brought
him back in hot haste to the House of Claes.
Great changes had taken place in the ideas of that clever speculator.
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