had conquered over her son-in-law! Feeble natures, once warned, turn
obstinate, and are never won again. At the first discussion of the
contract she had reckoned on Paul's weakness, and on the impossibility
he would feel of breaking off a marriage so far advanced. But now, she
herself was far more tightly bound. Three months earlier Paul had no
real obstacles to prevent the rupture; now, all Bordeaux knew that the
notaries had smoothed the difficulties; the banns were published; the
wedding was to take place immediately; the friends of both families were
at that moment arriving for the fete, and to witness the contract. How
could she postpone the marriage at this late hour? The cause of the
rupture would surely be made known; Maitre Mathias's stern honor was
too well known in Bordeaux; his word would be believed in preference to
hers. The scoffers would turn against her and against her daughter. No,
she could not break it off; she must yield!

These reflections, so cruelly sound, fell upon Madame Evangelista's
brain like a water-spout and split it. Though she still maintained
the dignity and reserve of a diplomatist, her chin was shaken by that
apoplectic movement which showed the anger of Catherine the Second on
the famous day when, seated on her throne and in presence of her court
(very much in the present circumstances of Madame Evangelista), she was
braved by the King of Sweden. Solonet observed that play of the muscles,
which revealed the birth of a mortal hatred, a lurid storm to which
there was no lightning. At this moment Madame Evangelista vowed to her
son-in-law one of those unquenchable hatreds the seeds of which were
left by the Moors in the atmosphere of Spain.

"Monsieur," she said, bending to the ear of her notary, "you called that
stipulation balderdash; it seems to me that nothing could have been more
clear."

"Madame, allow me--"

"Monsieur," she continued, paying no heed to his interruption, "if you
did not perceive the effect of that entail at the time of our first
conference, it is very extraordinary that it did not occur to you in the
silence of your study. This can hardly be incapacity."

The young notary drew his client into the next room, saying to himself,
as he did so:--

"I get a three-thousand franc fee for the guardianship account, three
thousand for the contract, six thousand on the sale of the house,
fifteen thousand in all--better not be angry."

He closed the door, cast on Madam