or his talents as for
his virtues, after making a magnificent eulogy of my son, expressed the
desire to know him."

"Parbleu! yes, to convert him," said Brigitte. "But as for this
marriage, I am sorry to tell you that the mustard is made too late for
the dinner; Thuillier will never renounce his la Peyrade."

"Mademoiselle," said Phellion, rising, "I feel no humiliation for the
useless step I have this day taken; I do not even ask you to keep it
secret, for I shall myself mention it to our friends and acquaintances."

"Tell it to whom you like, my good man," replied Brigitte,
acrimoniously. "Because your son has discovered a star,--if, indeed, he
did discover it, and not that old fool the government decorated--do you
expect him to marry a daughter of the King of the French?"

"Enough," said Phellion, "we will say no more. I might answer that,
without depreciating the Thuilliers, the Orleans family seems to me
more distinguished; but I do not like to introduce acerbity into the
conversation, and therefore, begging you to receive the assurance of my
humble respects, I retire."

So saying, he made his exit majestically, and left Brigitte with the
arrow of his comparison, discharged after the manner of the Parthian
"in extremis," sticking in her mind, and she herself in a temper all the
more savage because already, the evening before, Madame Thuillier, after
the guests were gone, had the incredible audacity to say something in
favor of Felix. Needless to relate that the poor helot was roughly put
down and told to mind her own business. But this attempt at a will of
her own in her sister-in-law had already put the old maid in a vile
humor, and Phellion, coming to reopen the subject, exasperated her.
Josephine, the cook, and the "male domestic," received the after-clap of
the scene which had just taken place. Brigitte found that in her absence
everything had been done wrong, and putting her own hand to the work,
she hoisted herself on a chair, at the risk of her neck, to reach the
upper shelves of the closet, where her choicest china, for gala days,
was carefully kept under lock and key.

This day, which for Brigitte began so ill, was, beyond all gainsaying,
one of the stormiest and most portentous of this narrative.

CHAPTER XIV. A STORMY DAY

As an exact historian, we must go back and begin the day at six in the
morning, when we can see Madame Thuillier going to the Madeleine to hear
the mass that the Abbe Go