“Your father and your brothers and my cousin Burr and his mother will, of course, be present at our wedding,” said Lot, with wary eyes upon her face.
Madelon looked at him as proudly as ever. “Very well,” said she. She waited a minute longer; then she laid her hand on the doorlatch.
“Wait a minute!” Lot cried. He looked at her hesitatingly. A flush crept over his white face. “Madelon,” he began; then his cough interrupted him. He tried to force it back with fierce swallowings, but had to yield. He bent over double, and shook with rattling volleys. Madelon waited, her eyes averted, without a sign of pity. The near approach of her wedding-day caused a revolt of her whole maiden soul towards him so intense that it was as a contraction of the muscles. She was utterly hard to his suffering. At last he raised himself, panting, and cast a pale look around at her.
“Well, what do you want?” she said.
He motioned feebly towards is desk on the other side of the room. “Top drawer,” he whispered, hoarsely; “left-hand corner—find—leather case—bring to me.”
Madelon crossed the room to the desk, opened the drawer, found the leather case, and carried it to Lot. “Here,” said she.
“Open it,” Lot whispered.
Madelon pressed the spring in the case, and held it out open towards Lot without a glance at its contents.
“Look,” he said.
Madelon glanced at the little gold watch, curled round with a long gold chain, which the case contained, and continued to hold it out towards Lot. “I've looked,” said she. “Here, take it; I must go home.”