“So, then, it is in your own empty head that this notion sprouted?”
“Yes. As I told you yesterday, I think Celeste can be more suitably married, and my intention is not to rob myself for a marriage of which I disapprove.”
“You disapprove! Upon my word! are we all to take madame’s advice?”
“I know well,” replied Madame Thuillier, “that I count for nothing in this house. So far as I am concerned, I have long accepted my position; but, when the matter concerns the happiness of a child I regard as my own—”
“Parbleu!” cried Brigitte, “you never knew how to have one; for, certainly, Thuillier—”
“Sister,” said Madame Thuillier, with dignity, “I took the sacrament this morning, and there are some things I cannot listen to.”
“There’s a canting hypocrite for you!” cried Brigitte; “playing the saint, and bringing trouble into families! And you think to succeed, do you? Wait till Thuillier comes home, and he’ll shake this out of you.”
By calling in the marital authority in support of her own, Brigitte showed weakness before the unexpected resistance thus made to her inveterate tyranny. Madame Thuillier’s calm words, which became every moment more resolute, baffled her completely, and she found no resource but insolence.
“A drone!” she cried; “a helpless good-for-nothing! who can’t even pick up her own handkerchief! that thing wants to be mistress of this house!”
“I wish so little to be its mistress,” said Madame Thuillier, “that last night I allowed you to silence me after the first words I said in behalf of Celeste. But I am mistress of my own property, and as I believe that Celeste will be wretched in this marriage, I keep it to use as may seem best to me.”