Oh! I am weary of meeting with nothing from you but snubs, scorn, and abuse.

You think me a slanderer when I say, 'This gallant wooer of widows does not love you for yourself but for your money-bags.

He fools you by fine promises, but as to marrying you--never, never!'" "May I ask you to repeat that ?" broke in Madame Rapally, "Oh! I know what I am saying.

You will never be Madame Quennebert." "Really ?" "Really." "Jealousy has eaten away whatever brains you used to possess, Trumeau.
Since I saw you last, cousin, important changes have taken place: I was just going to send you to-day an invitation to my wedding." "To your wedding ?" "Yes; I am to be married to-morrow." "To-morrow?
To Quennebert ?" stammered Trumeau.
"To Quennebert," repeated the widow in a tone of triumph.
"It's not possible!" exclaimed Trumeau.
"It is so possible that you will see us united tomorrow.

And for the future I must beg of you to regard Quennebert no longer as a rival but as my husband, whom to offend will be to offend me." The tone in which these words were spoken no longer left room for doubt as to the truth of the news.