“Something extraordinary is going on, I am sure of it!” she exclaimed, looking at all of them.
“To whom are you speaking?” asked Laurence.
“To all of you,” said the old lady.
“As for me, mother,” said Robert, “I am frightfully hungry, and that is not extraordinary.”
Madame d’Hauteserre, still troubled, offered the Marquis de Simeuse a plate intended for his brother.
“I am like your mother,” she said. “I don’t know you apart even by your cravats. I thought I was helping your brother.”
“You have helped me better than you thought for,” said the youngest, turning pale; “you have made him Comte de Cinq-Cygne.”
“What! do you mean to tell me the countess has made her choice?” cried Madame d’Hauteserre.
“No,” said Laurence; “we left the decision to fate and you are its instrument.”
She told of the agreement made that morning. The elder Simeuse, watching the increasing pallor of his brother’s face, was momentarily on the point of crying out, “Marry her; I will go away and die!” Just then, as the dessert was being served, all present heard raps upon the window of the dining-room on the garden side. The eldest d’Hauteserre opened it and gave entrance to the abbe, whose breeches were torn in climbing over the walls of the park.