“Madame, your visit is a great honor to this poor dwelling. But where is Madame Phellion?” added the worthy man, impatiently, going towards the door.
“No, I beg of you, don’t disturb her,” said the countess; “I have heedlessly come at a moment when she is busy with household cares. Brigitte has been my educator in such matters, and I know the respect we ought to pay to good housekeepers. Besides, I have the pleasure of your presence, which I scarcely expected.”
Before Phellion could reply to these obliging words, Madame Phellion appeared. A cap with ribbons had taken the place of the market bonnet, and a large shawl covered the other insufficiencies of the morning toilet. When his wife arrived, the great citizen made as though he would discreetly retire.
“Monsieur Phellion,” said the countess, “you are not one too many in the conference I desire with madame; on the contrary, your excellent judgment will be most useful in throwing light upon a matter as interesting to you as to your wife. I allude to the marriage of your son.”
“The marriage of my son!” cried Madame Phellion, with a look of astonishment; “but I am not aware that anything of the kind is at present in prospect.”
“The marriage of Monsieur Felix with Mademoiselle Celeste is, I think, one of your strongest desires—”
“But we have never,” said Phellion, “taken any overt steps for that object.”
“I know that only too well,” replied the countess; “on the contrary, every one in your family seems to study how to defeat my efforts in that direction. However, one thing is clear in spite of the reserve, and, you must allow me to say so, the clumsiness in which the affair has been managed, and that is that the young people love each other, and they will both be unhappy if they do not marry. Now, to prevent this catastrophe is the object with which I have come here this morning.”
“We cannot, madame, be otherwise than deeply sensible of the interest you are so good as to show in the happiness of our son,” said Phellion; “but, in truth, this interest—”
“Is something so inexplicable,” interrupted the countess, “that you feel a distrust of it?”