“Remember!” he said. “If you go out of this house—to marry that man, you can never set foot in here again!”
“I didn’t expect to!” she answered, briefly. “Good-by, Father.”
But he would not say good-by, he went back into the dining-room and from behind his paper he saw them all go. It was as if he were being deserted, rebuked by his family. His hand trembled, he bit his mustache. Andrée gone! And gone to her certain unhappiness.... She would be married, and her father would not be standing beside her.... He couldn’t endure it. He sprang up and hurried to his bedroom, in a blind desire to escape his thoughts. But there was no comfort in that silent house. He could think of no better refuge than his office. His child had gone without him....
“And yet I’m right!” he cried to himself. “I’m right! I’ve done what I ought to have done! I’ve refused to sanction this thing!”
§ iv
Not one of the party gave him a thought. They reached the church and entered, and Mr. Stephens was waiting there, with two friends. No one else had been invited. Like a woman in a dream Claudine went into the vestry with Andrée, to take off their furs.
“Am I all right?” asked Andrée.
“Yes, darling, very nice!” she answered. She wanted to look forever and ever at that girl in her plain dark suit, her small hat, that gallant and heart-breaking young figure.
Suddenly Andrée crushed her in a fierce embrace.
“Mother!” she said. “Mother!”