Solemnly this functionary walked to a table, sat down a mass of black folds, and severely took up a pen. Then said the doctor pompously, and dictating to the grave notary, “On the one part, et cetera, et cetera, Sophronia Malatesta, residing et cetera, et cetera, and the rest of it. And on the other part, Don Pasquale, et cetera, et cetera, residing at et cetera, et cetera, and also all the rest of it.” The notary, writing hurriedly, soon completed the work. “Very good!” said the proud don, “and then continue--which above-named gentleman (I mean myself,) from this hour, makes over one half his goods and property, by a deed of gift made before his death, to his most beloved wife.” This was also written in a hurry. “Bless you! bless you!” said the doctor. “Bl-l-less you, sir, your obedient,” chimed in the lady. The notary gravely held out the pen for signatures. Thereupon the don seized it, and speedily signed his name. “Oh, dear sir, I’d rather not; no, don’t brother.” For the doctor was again pushing her forward. The modest woman didn’t like to sign, and again her face was buried in her handkerchief. “Where are the witnesses?” said the grave notary. And at this moment, the voice of a gentleman named Ernesto was heard at high words with the obdurate footman. The face of the lady thereupon grew very grave, and indeed she dropped her pen. “Back, back!” shouted Ernesto, without the room. And the lady was forced to confess to herself, that she now really began to tremble. And so also did the doctor tremble, for Ernesto had not been informed of these plans, and he might in consequences spoil all. At this moment there was a rush at the door, the next moment it was flung open, and in the doorway stood the young nephew. “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.”