This contract was written in duplicate, and as soon as the notary had finished reading, Madame Carson handed a pen to M. de Veron, saying in the same light, coquettish, but peremptory tone as before: 'Now, Monsieur, quick, if you please: yours is the most important signature.' The merchant signed and sealed both parchments, and the other interested parties did the same, in silent, dumb bewilderment, broken only by the scratching of the pens and the legal words repeated after the notary. 'We need not detain you longer, Messieurs, I believe,' said Madame Carson. '_Bon soir_, Monsieur de Veron,' she added, extending an ungloved hand to that gentleman, who faintly touched it with his lips; 'you will hear from me to-morrow.' 'What is the meaning of all this?' exclaimed Eugene de Veron, the instant his father and the notary disappeared. 'I positively feel as if standing upon my head!' A chorus of like interrogatories from the Le Blancs assailed Madame Carson, whose ringing bursts of mirth mocked for a time their impatience. 'Meaning, _parbleu_!' she at last replied, after pausing to catch breath. 'That is plain enough, surely. Did you not all see with what _empressement_ the poor man kissed my hand? There, don't look so wretched, Edouard,' she added with a renewed outburst; 'perhaps I may have the caprice to prefer you after all to an elderly millionaire--who knows? But come, let us try to be a little calm and sensible. What I have done, good folks, I can as easily undo; and that being the case, Monsieur Eugene must sign me a bond to-morrow morning for fifty thousand francs, payable three days after his marriage. Is it agreed? Very well: then I keep these two parchments till the said bond is executed; and now, my friends; good-night, for I, as you may believe, am completely tired after all this benevolent fairy-work.' The wedding took place on the next day but one, to the great astonishment of every one acquainted with the two families. It was also positively rumoured that M. de Veron had proposed marriage to Madame Carson, and been refused! Be this true or not, it was soon apparent that, from some cause or other, M. de Veron's health and spirits were irretrievably broken down, and after lingering out a mopish, secluded life of scarcely a twelvemonth's duration, that gentleman died suddenly at Mon Sejour. A clause in his will bequeathed 20,000 francs to Madame Carson, with an intimated hope, that it would be accepted as a pledge by that lady to respect, as she hitherto had done, the honour of an ancient family.