With her arm slipped through that of her godmother, Celeste was standing very near the priest, her ears intent upon his words, her arm pressing tighter and tighter that of Madame Thuillier, as the abbe analyzed the generous action of Felix Phellion, until at last she whispered under her breath:—
“You hear, godmother, you hear!”
To destroy the inevitable effect which this hearty praise would surely have on Celeste, Thuillier hastened to say:—
“Unfortunately, Monsieur l’abbe, the young man of whom you speak so warmly is not altogether unknown to you. I have had occasion to tell you about him, and to regret that it was not possible to follow out certain plans which we once entertained for him; I allude to the very compromising independence he affects in his religious opinions.”
“Ah! is that the young man?” said the abbe; “you surprise me much; I must say such an idea would never have crossed my mind.”
“You will see him presently, Monsieur l’abbe,” said la Peyrade, joining in the conversation, “and if you question him on certain grounds you will have no difficulty in discovering the ravages that a love of science can commit in the most gifted souls.”
“I am afraid I shall not see him,” said the abbe, “as my black gown would be out of place in the midst of the more earthly gaiety that will soon fill this salon. But I know, Monsieur de la Peyrade, that you are a man of sincerely pious convictions, and as, without any doubt, you feel as much interest in the young man’s welfare as I do myself, I shall say to you in parting: Do not be uneasy about him; sooner or later, such choice souls come back to us, and if the return of these prodigals should be long delayed I should not fear, on seeing them go to God, that His infinite mercy would fail them.”
So saying, the abbe looked about to find his hat, and proceeded to slip quietly away.
Suddenly a fearful uproar was heard. Rushing into the dining-room, whence came a sound of furniture overturned and glasses breaking, Brigitte found Colleville occupied in adjusting his cravat and looking himself over to be sure that his coat, cruelly pulled awry, bore no signs of being actually torn.
“What is the matter?” cried Brigitte.