The general had
taken it into his head to explain some of the clauses in the
marriage-contract to the bridegroom, who, though far better
acquainted with their full scope and meaning than his
father-in-law, was obliged to listen for civility's sake. While
the old soldier was still in the midst of his long and confused
harangue, a clock struck on the library mantel-piece.
"Two o'clock!" exclaimed Danville, glad of any pretext for
interrupting the talk about the contract. "Two o'clock; and my
mother not here yet! What can be delaying her?"
"Nothing," cried the general. "When did you ever know a woman
punctual, my lad? If we wait for your mother--and she's such a
rabid aristocrat that she would never forgive us for not
waiting--we shan't sign the contract yet this half-hour. Never
mind! let's go on with what we were talking about. Where the
devil was I when that cursed clock struck and interrupted us? Now
then, Black Eyes, what's the matter?"
This last question was addressed to Mademoiselle Berthelin, who
at that moment hastily entered the library from the drawing-room.
She was a tall and rather masculine-looking girl, with superb
black eyes, dark hair growing low on her forehead, and something
of her father's decision and bluntness in her manner of speaking.
"A stranger in the other room, papa, who wants to see you. I
suppose the servants showed him upstairs, thinking he was one of
the guests.
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