Having given you these details, I will now proceed with my story.
The other morning, after breakfast, as I was about to return to my room (for whatever you may believe, I am working hard just now), my uncle stopped me, and without any further preliminaries began:
"By the way, André, I expect Madame Saulnier and my god-daughter Anna Campbell, your betrothed, to dinner this, evening. I should not mind letting you make her acquaintance. If you happen to be curious to see her, don't make any engagements at the club, and come home punctually."
"Really!" exclaimed my aunt with a laugh, and without giving me time to answer: "from the way you put it, one might think you were talking of some doll that you intended to offer André for his birthday!"
"What the deuce do you mean by that, my dear?" asked the captain in his imperturbable way.
"I mean," said my aunt, "that this little acquaintance which you wish they should make with each other before you marry them, seems to me a very necessary preliminary."
"Pooh! They've still a good year before them! Besides, this little matter has nothing to do with romance." Then turning to me he continued; "Well, if that suits you for to-day, I have given you notice."
"Capital!" added my aunt. "Well, André! How does it suit you?"
"Why, aunt," I said, laughing in my turn at their little dispute; "I think my uncle may rely equally with you upon the pleasure it will give me."
"All right, that's settled!" continued my aunt in an inimitable tone of hilarity; "at seven o'clock punctually, my dear nephew, you will come and fall in love."