“What is it? what is it?” cried Master Zacharius.
“You shall know on the day after that on which you have given me your daughter’s hand.”
“My Gerande?”
“Herself!”
“My daughter’s heart is not free,” replied Master Zacharius, who seemed neither astonished nor shocked at the strange demand.
“Bah! She is not the least beautiful of watches; but she will end by stopping also—”
“My daughter,—my Gerande! No!”
“Well, return to your watches, Master Zacharius. Adjust and readjust them. Get ready the marriage of your daughter and your apprentice. Temper your springs with your best steel. Bless Aubert and the pretty Gerande. But remember, your watches will never go, and Gerande will not wed Aubert!”
Thereupon the little old man disappeared, but not so quickly that Master Zacharius could not hear six o’clock strike in his breast.