My sister did, in fact, go to Madame de Pontchartrain’s. My threat of leaving Melun had made poor Amélie tremble; she had not even been willing to let me go to Paris to purchase the indispensable gifts; Déneterre had undertaken to do all that. I did not insist, for I might have fallen in with somebody in Paris who would have made me forget my marriage.
Amélie succeeded in her mission; she soon returned with Pélagie, who, on seeing me, blushed and courtesied as if I were a stranger.
“Here is my brother, who will be delighted to talk with you,” said Amélie, as she led Pélagie into the house. “I have a thousand things to do, and I am compelled to leave you for a few minutes; but you will be united in a week, so I can see no great harm in leaving you together.”
Amélie left us, and I was alone with my future wife at last. Pélagie seated herself at a considerable distance from me, so I began by placing my chair close to hers and taking possession of both her hands. I was glad to see that she made no effort to withdraw them. I gazed at her for several minutes; she kept her eyes fixed on the floor and said not a word. I concluded that if I did not begin the conversation we should sit in silence and without moving all day long; indeed, it was my place to begin.
“You know, mademoiselle, that we are to be married?”
“Yes, monsieur.”
“In a week, I shall be your husband.”
“Yes, monsieur.”
“Does the prospect please you?”
“Yes, monsieur.”