“So be it!” said Madame Colleville; “you think yourself very clever, but if you let that girl twist you round her finger, so much the worse for you. Come, Thuillier, since we are ‘de trop’ here.”
As soon as the pair were alone together, la Peyrade drew up a chair for Celeste, and took one himself, saying:—
“You will, I venture to believe, do me the justice to say that until to-day I have never annoyed you with the expression of my sentiments. I was aware of the inclinations of your heart, and also of the warnings of your conscience. I hoped, after a time, to make myself acceptable as a refuge from those two currents of feeling; but, at the point which we have now reached, I think it is not either indiscreet or impatient to ask you to let me know plainly what course you have decided upon.”
“Monsieur,” replied Celeste, “as you speak to me so kindly and frankly, I will tell you, what indeed you know already, that, brought up as I was with Monsieur Felix Phellion, knowing him far longer than I have known you, the idea of marrying alarmed me less in regard to him than it would in regard to others.”
“At one time, I believe,” remarked la Peyrade, “you were permitted to choose him if you wished.”
“Yes, but at that time difficulties grew up between us on religious ideas.”
“And to-day those difficulties have disappeared?”
“Nearly,” replied Celeste. “I am accustomed to submit to the judgment of those who are wiser than myself, monsieur, and you heard yesterday the manner in which the Abbe Gondrin spoke of Monsieur Phellion.”
“God forbid,” said la Peyrade, “that I should seek to invalidate the judgment of so excellent a man; but I venture to say to you, mademoiselle, that there are great differences among the clergy; some are thought too stern, some far too indulgent; moreover, the Abbe Gondrin is more of a preacher than a casuist.”
“But, Monsieur Felix,” said Celeste, eagerly, “seems to wish to fulfil Monsieur l’abbe’s hopes of him, for I know that he went to see him this morning.”