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Scarlett left
them; she could feel herself losing control of her temperIt's only a
dinner, she reminded herself, just calm downEven with Grandfather
at
table with us, it can't be all that badAfter all, what could one old
man do? He could, Scarlett learned at once, refuse to allow anything
other than French to be spokenHer "Happy Birthday, Grandfather,"
was
ignored as if she hadn't said itHer aunts' greetings were
acknowledged by a cold nod, and he sat down in the huge throne-like
chair at the head of the tablePierre Auguste Robillard was no longer
a night-shirted, frail elderly man
Impeccably clothed in an old-fashioned frock coat and starched linen,
his thin body looked larger, and his erect military bearing was
impressive even when he dolce