"The fate of--" repeated the notary.
"The fate of whom?"
The notary passed his hand across his throat.
"Holofernes, perhaps?" cried Bertha, laughing.
"Exactly," said Maître Loriot.
Mary joined her sister in the peals of laughter this assurance called forth. The little notary's supposition delighted the sisters beyond measure.
"So you assign us the part of Judith!" cried Bertha, endeavoring to check her laughter.
"But, mesdemoiselles--"
"If my father were here, Monsieur Loriot, he might be angry that you suppose him capable of such proceedings, which would be in my opinion, a little too Biblical. But don't be uneasy; we will tell neither papa nor the general, who certainly would not be flattered at the meaning you put upon our attentions."
"Young ladies," entreated Loriot, "forgive me if my political fervor, my horror for all the partisans of the present unfortunate doctrines, carried me rather too far."