“Ah ca!” cried Madame Phellion, “can’t you stop coming yourself to an explanation of what you mean, and get there?”
“Your son,” said Minard, cautious this time in measuring the joy he was about to bestow, fearing another fainting-fit of happiness, “has just made a very important scientific discovery.”
“Is it true?” said Madame Phellion, going up to Felix, and taking him by both hands as she looked at him lovingly.
“When I say important,” continued Minard, “I am only sparing your maternal emotions; it is, in truth, a sublime, a dazzling discovery. He is only twenty-five years old, but his name, from henceforth, is immortal.”
“And this is the man,” said Madame Phellion, half beside herself, and kissing Felix with effusion, “to whom that la Peyrade is preferred!”
“No, not preferred, madame,” said Minard, “for the Thuilliers are not the dupes of that adventurer. But he has made himself necessary to them. Thuillier fancies that without la Peyrade he could not be elected; the election is still doubtful, and they are sacrificing everything to it.”
“But isn’t it odious,” cried Madame Phellion, “to consider such interests before the happiness of their child!”
“Ah!” said Minard, “but Celeste is not their child, only their adopted daughter.”
“Brigitte’s, if you like,” said Madame Phellion; “but as for Thuillier—”
“My good wife,” said Phellion, “no censoriousness. The good God has just sent us a great consolation; and, indeed, though certainly far advanced, this marriage, about which I regret to say Felix does not behave with all the philosophy I could desire, may still not take place.”