The marquis stood looking for a while into the crown of his hat. “We have been prepared,” he said at last “but it is inevitable that in face of the event one should experience a certain emotion.” And he gave a most unhilarious smile.
“I feel no emotion that I was not perfectly prepared for,” said his mother.
“I can’t say that for myself,” said Newman, smiling but differently from the marquis. “I am happier than I expected to be. I suppose it’s the sight of your happiness!”
“Don’t exaggerate that,” said Madame de Bellegarde, getting up and laying her hand upon her daughter’s arm. “You can’t expect an honest old woman to thank you for taking away her beautiful, only daughter.”
“You forgot me, dear madame,” said the young marquise demurely.
“Yes, she is very beautiful,” said Newman.
“And when is the wedding, pray?” asked young Madame de Bellegarde; “I must have a month to think over a dress.”
“That must be discussed,” said the marquise.
“Oh, we will discuss it, and let you know!” Newman exclaimed.
“I have no doubt we shall agree,” said Urbain.