“Oh! nothing very tangible,” said la Peyrade; “but ever since that Countess Torna has had a footing in your house—”
“My poor boy, the countess has done me many services, and I am very grateful to her; but is that any reason why I should be false to you, who have done us still greater services?”
“But you must admit,” said la Peyrade, craftily, “that she has told you a great deal of harm of me.”
“Naturally she has; these fine ladies are all that way; they expect the whole world to adore them, and she sees that you are thinking only of Celeste; but all she has said to me against you runs off my mind like water from varnished cloth.”
“So, then, little aunt, I may continue to count on you?” persisted la Peyrade.
“Yes; provided you are not tormenting, and will let me manage this affair.”
“Tell me how you are going to do it?” asked la Peyrade, with an air of great good-humor.
“In the first place, I shall signify to Felix that he is not to set foot in this house again.”
“Is that possible?” said the barrister; “I mean can it be done civilly?”
“Very possible; I shall make Phellion himself tell him. He’s a man who is always astride of principles, and he’ll be the first to see that if his son will not do what is necessary to obtain Celeste’s hand he ought to deprive us of his presence.”