it. What can you ask more of a man than that?"

This profession of the Phellion faith caused Celeste to sadly shake her
head.

"Read attentively," she replied, "'The Imitation of Jesus Christ.'
Strive to convert yourself to the holy Catholic, apostolic, and Roman
Church, and you will see how empty your words are. Hear me, Felix;
marriage is not, the Church says, the affair of a day, the mere
satisfaction of our own desires; it is made for eternity. What! shall we
be united day and night, shall we form one flesh, one word, and yet
have two languages, two faiths in our heart, and a cause of perpetual
dissension? Would you condemn me to weep tears over the state of your
soul,--tears that I must ever conceal from you? Could I address myself
in peace to God when I see his arm stretched out in wrath against you?
Must my children inherit the blood of a deist and his convictions? Oh!
God, what misery for a wife! No, no, these ideas are intolerable. Felix!
be of my faith, for I cannot share yours. Do not put a gulf between us.
If you loved me, you would already have read 'The Imitation of Jesus
Christ.'"

The Phellion class, sons of the "Constitutionnel," dislike the priestly
mind. Felix had the imprudence to reply to this sort of prayer from the
depths of an ardent heart:--

"You are repeating, Celeste, the lessons your confessor teaches you;
nothing, believe me, is more fatal to happiness than the interference of
priests in a home."

"Oh!" cried Celeste, wounded to the quick, for love alone inspired her,
"you do not love! The voice of my heart is not in unison with yours!
You have not understood me, because you have not listened to me; but I
forgive you, for you know not what you say."

She wrapped herself in solemn silence, and Felix went to the window and
drummed upon the panes,--music familiar to those who have indulged
in poignant reflections. Felix was, in fact, presenting the following
delicate and curious questions to the Phellion conscience.

"Celeste is a rich heiress, and, in yielding against the voice of
natural religion, to her ideas, I should have in view the making of what
is certainly an advantageous marriage,--an infamous act. I ought not, as
father of a family, to allow the priesthood to have an influence in my
home. If I yield to-day, I do a weak act, which will be followed by many
others equally pernicious to the authority of a husband and father. All
this is unworthy of a philosopher."

Then he re