“The captain?”
“Yes.”
She went on more falteringly, the whole force of her love summed up in the poor little hope which her words expressed:
“Father, I beg you, you must consent and persuade Mamma.”
But for the closing phrase M. Dulaurens would have been touched. He took in things in detail, and the last words always made most impression on his mind.
“Persuade Mamma!” he cried. “It is always your mother,” he said sharply, and began once more his walk up and down.
He made sure that the door was closed, stopped to listen, and then, encouraged by the silence and sure of their privacy, he let himself go boldly:
“Your mother! Don’t you know, my dear, that my consent is of far more importance? The law demands that. And this law is just. There must be one supreme authority in a household, and this authority is vested in the head of the family, the Paterfamilias!”
He threw a rapid glance at the mirror to study his own omnipotent appearance. He seemed to have forgotten the serious subject of the interview, which the trembling Alice feared to recall to him. Must she again pronounce the burning name of Marcel Guibert?
But coming down to earth again M. Dulaurens spared her at least this new exhibition of courage, as he repeated word for word a sentence of his wife’s: