Mounted upon her chair, her hair in disorder and her face and fingers dirty, Brigitte, duster in hand, was cleaning the shelves of the closet, where she was replacing her library of plates, dishes, and sauce-boats, when Flavie came in and accosted her.

“Brigitte,” she said, “when you have finished what you are about you had better come down to our apartment, or else I’ll send Celeste to you; she seems to me to be inclined to make trouble.”

“In what way?” asked Brigitte, continuing to dust.

“I think she and Madame Thuillier went to see the Abbe Gondrin this morning, and she has been attacking me about Felix Phellion, and talks of him as if he were a god; from that to refusing to marry la Peyrade is but a step.”

“Those cursed skull-caps!” said Brigitte; “they meddle in everything!  I didn’t want to invite him, but you would insist.”

“Yes,” said Flavie, “it was proper.”

“Proper!  I despise proprieties!” cried the old maid.  “He’s a maker of speeches; he said nothing last night that wasn’t objectionable.  Send Celeste to me; I’ll settle her.”

At this instant a servant announced to Brigitte the arrival of a clerk from the office of the new notary chosen, in default of Dupuis, to draw up the contract.  Without considering her disorderly appearance, Brigitte ordered him to be shown in, but she made him the condescension of descending from her perch instead of talking from the height of it.

“Monsieur Thuillier,” said the clerk, “came to our office this morning to explain to the master the clauses of the contract he has been so good as to entrust to us.  But before writing down the stipulations, we are in the habit of obtaining from the lips of each donor a direct expression of his or her intentions.  In accordance with this rule, Monsieur Thuillier told us that he gives to the bride the reversion, at his death, of the house he inhabits, which I presume to be this one?”

“Yes,” said Brigitte, “that is the understanding.  As for me, I give three hundred thousand francs a year in the Three-per-cents, capital and interest; but the bride is married under the dotal system.”

“That is so,” said the clerk, consulting his notes.  “Mademoiselle Brigitte, three thousand francs a year.  Now, there is Madame Celeste Thuillier, wife of Louis-Jerome Thuillier, who gives six thousand in the Three-per-cents, capital and interest, and six thousand more at her death.”

“All that is just as if the notary had written it down,” said Brigitte; “but if it is your custom you can see my sister-in-law; they will show you the way.”

So saying, the old maid ordered the “male domestic” to take the clerk to Madame Thuillier.

A moment later the clerk returned, saying there was certainly some misunderstanding, and that Madame Thuillier declared she had no intention of making any agreement in favor of the marriage.

“That’s a pretty thing!” cried Brigitte.  “Come with me, monsieur.”