Only to slap her.
“Well, I can’t help it,” he said, still in the same irritated tone. He was disappointed in his future son-in-law. “Ursula and Otto must just settle it between them.”
“Ursula is a child,” replied the spinster. “She will be pleased to get so charming an uncle.”
“Hey?” said the pastor, stopping very short. Then it all dawned upon him as when a curtain is drawn away.
“Otto has asked Ursula to marry him, and she has consented,” he said, gruffly. For some forms of human weakness the man had not an atom of pity. Poor Miss Mopius received the blow straight in her face. She “never forgave” her brother afterwards for striking out. Striking a woman, after all.
She rose to the occasion, sitting up at once, tremulous but dignified.
“There is some mistake,” she said. “You have misunderstood or I have been duped. In one case the man is a fool; in the other he is a villain. No gentleman makes love to two women at a time. I will thank you to leave me alone for the present, Roderigue.”
“So be it, Josine,” answered the Dominé, “but, remember, it was Will-be-Will made darkness in the town of Mansoul.” Then his heart smote him for too great severity. “My dear,” he said, in a kindly voice, “it is the old story with us all. Still Prince Emmanuel answers Mr. Loth-to-Stoop: ‘I will not grant your master, no, not the least corner to dwell in. I will have all to myself.’”
When the last uncertainty had faded from Miss Mopius’s soul, she merely said to Ursula, “He might be your father. I don’t think it’s nice for a young girl to marry an old man.”