her forehead sacredly at the very moment when his
relatives were degrading that saintly influence with their shameless
fears, and casting their vulgar insults upon Ursula. His haste to return
home, his assumed disdain for their company, his sharp replies as he
left the church were naturally attributed by all the heirs to the hatred
Ursula had excited against them in the old man's mind.

CHAPTER VIII. THE CONFERENCE

While Ursula was playing variations on Weber's "Last Thought" to her
godfather, a plot was hatching in the Minoret-Levraults' dining-room
which was destined to have a lasting effect on the events of this drama.
The breakfast, noisy as all provincial breakfasts are, and enlivened by
excellent wines brought to Nemours by the canal either from Burgundy
or Touraine, lasted more than two hours. Zelie had sent for oysters,
salt-water fish, and other gastronomical delicacies to do honor to
Desire's return. The dining-room, in the center of which a round table
offered a most appetizing sight, was like the hall of an inn. Content
with the size of her kitchens and offices, Zelie had built a pavilion
for the family between the vast courtyard and a garden planted with
vegetables and full of fruit-trees. Everything about the premises was
solid and plain. The example of Levrault-Levrault had been a warning to
the town. Zelie forbade her builder to lead her into such follies. The
dining-room was, therefore, hung with varnished paper and furnished with
walnut chairs and sideboards, a porcelain stove, a tall clock, and a
barometer. Though the plates and dishes were of common white china, the
table shone with handsome linen and abundant silverware. After Zelie
had served the coffee, coming and going herself like shot in a
decanter,--for she kept but one servant,--and when Desire, the budding
lawyer, had been told of the event of the morning and its probably
consequences, the door was closed, and the notary Dionis was called upon
to speak. By the silence in the room and the looks that were cast on
that authoritative face, it was easy to see the power that such men
exercise over families.

"My dear children," said he, "your uncle having been born in 1746, is
eighty-three years old at the present time; now, old men are given to
folly, and that little--"

"Viper!" cried Madame Massin.

"Hussy!" said Zelie.

"Let us call her by her own name," said Dionis.

"Well, she's a thief," said Madame Cremiere.

"A pretty thi