“He is not handsome, that clerk of Monsieur Dionis,” said Savinien, when Goupil had closed the door.
“What does it signify whether such persons are handsome or ugly?” said Madame de Portenduere.
“I don’t complain of his ugliness,” said the abbe, “but I do of his wickedness, which passes all bounds; he is a villain.”
The doctor, in spite of his desire to be amiable, grew cold and dignified. The lovers were embarrassed. If it had not been for the kindly good-humor of the abbe, whose gentle gayety enlivened the dinner, the position of the doctor and his niece would have been almost intolerable. At dessert, seeing Ursula turn pale, he said to her:—
“If you don’t feel well, dear child, we have only the street to cross.”
“What is the matter, my dear?” said the old lady to the girl.
“Madame,” said the doctor severely, “her soul is chilled, accustomed as she is to be met by smiles.”
“A very bad education, monsieur,” said Madame de Portenduere. “Is it not, Monsieur l’abbe?”
“Yes,” answered Minoret, with a look at the abbe, who knew not how to reply. “I have, it is true, rendered life unbearable to an angelic spirit if she has to pass it in the world; but I trust I shall not die until I place her in security, safe from coldness, indifference, and hatred—”
“Oh, godfather—I beg of you—say no more. There is nothing the matter with me,” cried Ursula, meeting Madame de Portenduere’s eyes rather than give too much meaning to her words by looking at Savinien.