“Sir,” said this latter, “I came to take my leave of you, and I am debarred your presence as though I were a robber.”
“We were busy, young man, very busy when you came to the door; however, now you are here, stop; sign—witness. Let the bride advance.”
Tableau.
The “young man” was about explaining, when he felt his coat pulled. Then the doctor said quite solemnly, “This is Sophronia—my sister.”
“So—who?”
“So that you be quiet—never mind who,” said the doctor, lowly. “For your own sake, be still—be dumb: excuse him, don—the poor youth, I will explain all to him.” And as the old don bowed in his own absurd fashion, the doctor led the youth on one side, and thus admonished him: “Now, if you wish to be your own enemy and Norina’s, go on; but if you are not your own enemy and Norina’s, don’t.”
“Just so—but—”
“Yes—exactly—don’t, as I said before; come and sign the contract.”
Which, with great doubt still, the jealous lover did.
Said the stern notary, rising from his chair, “You are man and wife.”