Beverly came forward. "He says: 'Who giveth this woman to be married to this man?'"
Von Barwig shook his head. The tears were running down his cheeks, and when he tried to withdraw his hand from hers Hélène refused to let it go.
"Who giveth this woman to be married to this man?" she said entreatingly.
Von Barwig could restrain himself no longer. "Well, perhaps I do," he said in a voice trembling with emotion; "perhaps I do!" Taking her in his arms, he kissed her again and again.
"At last, at last! My little Elene! My little baby—my little baby!"
"Father, father!" was all Hélène could say. Beverly looked out of the window.
"Now we mend that doll with the broken eye," said the old man, gulping down a sob and smiling through his tears.
"Yes, father," and Hélène took his face between her two hands.
"Say it again!" he murmured. "It is the sound I have listened for these sixteen years."
"Father!" repeated Hélène.