“Where is the notary?”
“M. Ferrand is engaged in his private room,” said the chief clerk. “If you will please to wait a moment, sir, he will see you.”
“What do you mean by wait a moment?”
“Why, sir—”
“There is no why in the case, sir. Go and tell him that M. de Saint-Remy is here; and I am much surprised that this notary should make me dance attendance in his waiting-room. It is really most annoying.”
“Will you walk into this side room, sir?” said the chief clerk, “and I will inform M. Ferrand this instant.”
M. de Saint-Remy shrugged his shoulders, and followed the head clerk. At the end of a quarter of an hour, which seemed very tedious to him, and which converted his spleen into anger, the viscount was introduced into the notary’s private apartment.
Nothing could be more striking
