“Yes,” said Madame Evangelista.
“Yes,” said Paul.
“And how about me?” asked Natalie, laughing.
“You, mademoiselle, are a minor,” replied Solonet, “and that need not distress you!”
It was then agreed that Maître Mathias should draw up the contract, and Maître Solonet audit the guardian’s accounts, and that all the papers should be signed, in agreement with the law, a day or two before the wedding.
After a few civilities the lawyers rose.
“It is raining, Mathias; shall I take you home? I have my cab here,” said Solonet.
“My carriage is at your service,” said Paul, preparing to accompany the good man.
“I will not rob you of a minute,” said the old man; “I will accept my friend’s offer.”
“Well,” said Achilles to Nestor, as the carriage rolled on its way, “you have been truly patriarchal. Those young people would, no doubt, have ruined themselves.”
“I was uneasy about the future,” said Mathias, not betraying the real motive of his proposal.
At this moment the two lawyers were like two actors who shake hands behind the scenes after playing on the stage a scene of hatred and provocation.
“But is it not my business,” said Solonet, who was thinking of technicalities, “to purchase the lands of which you speak? Is it not our money that is to be invested?”
“How can you include Mademoiselle Evangelista’s land in an entail created by the Comte de Manerville?” asked Mathias.
“That difficulty can be settled in Chancery,” said Solonet.
“But I am the seller’s notary as well as the buyer’s,” replied Mathias. “Besides, Monsieur de Manerville can purchase in his own name. When it comes to paying, we can state the use of the wife’s portion.”
“You have an answer for everything, my worthy senior,” said Solonet, laughing. “You have been grand this evening, and you have beaten us.”
“Well, for an old fellow unprepared for your batteries loaded with grapeshot, it was not so bad, heh?”
“Ah, ha!” laughed Solonet.
The tedious contest in which the happiness of a family had been so narrowly risked was to them no more than a matter of legal polemics. “We have not gone through forty years of chicanery for nothing,” said Mathias. “Solonet,” he added, “I am a good-natured fellow; you may be present at the sale and purchase of the lands to be added to the estate.”
“Thank you, my good friend! You will find me at your service in case of need.”
While the two notaries were thus peaceably going on their way, with no emotion beyond a little dryness of the throat, Paul and Madame Evangelista were suffering from the nervous trepidation, the fluttering about the heart, the spasm of brain and spine, to which persons of strong passions are prone after a scene when their interests or their feelings have been severely attacked. In Madame Evangelista these mutterings of the dispersing storm were aggravated by a terrible thought, a lurid gleam that needed explanation.
“Has not Maître Mathias overthrown my six months’ labors?” she wondered. “Has he not destroyed my influence over Paul by filling him with base suspicions during their conference in the inner room?”
She stood in front of the fireplace, her elbow resting on the corner of the mantelpiece, lost in thought.
When the outer gate closed behind the notary’s carriage, she turned to her son-in-law, eager to settle her doubts.
“This has been the most terrible day of my life,” cried Paul, really glad to see the end of all these difficulties. “I know no tougher customer than old Mathias. God grant his wishes and make me peer of France! Dear Natalie, I desire it more for your sake than for my own. You are my sole ambition. I live in and for you.”
On hearing these words spoken from the heart, and especially as she looked into Paul’s clear eyes, whose look was as free from any concealment as his open brow, Madame Evangelista’s joy was complete. She blamed herself for the somewhat sharp terms in which she had tried to spur her son-in-law, and in the triumph of success determined to make all smooth for the future. Her face was calm again, and her eyes expressed the sweet friendliness that made her so attractive as she replied:
“I may truly say the same. And perhaps, my dear boy, my Spanish temper carried me further than my heart intended. Be always what you are—as good as gold! And owe me no grudge for a few ill-considered words. Give me your hand—”
Paul was overwhelmed; he blamed himself in a thousand things, and embraced Madame Evangelista.
“Dear Paul,” said she with emotion, “why could not those two scriveners arrange matters without us, since it has all come right in the end?”
“But then,” said Paul, “I should not have known how noble and generous you could be.”
“Well said, Paul!” cried Natalie, taking his hand.
“We have several little matters to settle yet, my dear boy,” said Madame Evangelista. “My daughter and I are superior to the follies which some people think so much of. For instance, Natalie will need no diamonds—I give her mine.”
“Oh! my dear mother, do you suppose I should accept them?” cried Natalie.
“Yes, my child, they are a condition of the contract.”
“I will not have them! I will never marry!” said Natalie vehemently.
