At the end of that time Madame Verine arose one morning to find the breakfast was not cooked, nor the fire lit.

In the midst of disorder stood Celeste, with flushed cheeks and startled eyes, and a letter in her hand.
'Ah, madam,' she faltered, 'what a surprise! The letter, it is from monsieur the notary, who lives in the market-place, and to me, madam--_to me_!' When Madame Verine took the letter she found told therein that an aunt of Celeste, who had lived far off in the Jura, was dead, and had left to Celeste a little fortune of five thousand francs, which was to be paid to her when she was twenty-one, or on her marriage day.
'Ah,' cried Celeste, weeping, 'can it be true?
Can it be true ?' 'Of course, since monsieur the notary says so.' 'Ah, madam; let me run and see monsieur the notary.

Let me just ask him, and hear from his lips that it is true!' So she ran out into the town, with her apron over her head, and Marie made the breakfast.
The Russian lady came down to talk it over.

'The pretty child is distraught, and at _so small_ a piece of good fortune!' said she.
But when Celeste came in she was more composed.

'It is true,' she said, with gentle joy, and she stood before them breathless and blushing.
'It will be three years before you are twenty-one,' said Madame Verine; 'you will remain with me.' 'If you please, madam, no,' said Celeste, modestly casting down her eyes; 'I must go to my native village.' 'How!' they cried.