without her doing anything for it, aroused her covetousness.

She went to the notary and told him about it. He advised her to accept
Chicot's offer, but said she ought to ask for an annuity of fifty instead
of thirty, as her farm was worth sixty thousand francs at the lowest
calculation.

"If you live for fifteen years longer," he said, "even then he will only
have paid forty-five thousand francs for it."

The old woman trembled with joy at this prospect of getting fifty crowns
a month, but she was still suspicious, fearing some trick, and she
remained a long time with the lawyer asking questions without being able
to make up her mind to go. At last she gave him instructions to draw up
the deed and returned home with her head in a whirl, just as if she had
drunk four jugs of new cider.

When Chicot came again to receive her answer she declared, after a lot of
persuading, that she could not make up her mind to agree to his proposal,
though she was all the time trembling lest he should not consent to give
the fifty crowns, but at last, when he grew urgent, she told him what she
expected for her farm.

He looked surprised and disappointed and refused.

Then, in order to convince him, she began to talk about the probable
duration of her life.

"I am certainly not likely to live more than five or six years longer. I
am nearly seventy-three, and far from strong, even considering my age.