“I agree to that,” said the countess; “but she was brought up by the mother whom you know; she was never shown the face of true piety; she saw only the mimicry of it. Repentant Magdalens of the Madame Colleville species always assume an air of wishing to retire to a desert with their death’s-head and crossed bones. They think they can’t get salvation at a cheaper rate. But after all, what did Celeste ask of Monsieur Felix? Merely that he would read ‘The Imitation of Christ.’” “He has read it, madame,” said Phellion, “and he thinks it a book extremely well written; but his convictions--and that is a misfortune--have not been affected by the perusal.” “And do you think he shows much cleverness in not assuring his mistress of some little change in his inflexible convictions?” “My son, madame, has never received from me the slightest lesson in cleverness; loyalty, uprightness, those are the principles I have endeavored to inculcate in him.” “It seems to me, monsieur, that there is no want of loyalty when, in dealing with a troubled mind, we endeavor to avoid wounding it. But let us agree that Monsieur Felix owed it to himself to be that iron door against which poor Celeste’s applications beat in vain; was that a reason for keeping away from her and sulking in his tent for fifteen whole days? Above all, ought he to have capped these sulks by a proceeding which I can’t forgive, and which--only just made known to us--has struck the girl’s heart with despair, and also with a feeling of extreme irritation?” “My son capable of any such act! it is quite impossible, madame!” cried Phellion. “I know nothing of this proceeding; but I do not hesitate to affirm that you have been ill-informed.” “And yet, nothing is more certain. Young Colleville, who came home to-day for his half-holiday, has just told us that Monsieur Felix, who had previously gone with the utmost punctuality to hear him recite has ceased entirely to have anything to do with him. Unless your son is ill, I do not hesitate to say that this neglect is the greatest of blunders, in the situation in which he now stands with the sister he ought not to have chosen this moment to put an end to these lessons.” The Phellions looked at each other as if consulting how to reply. “My son,” said Madame Phellion, “is not exactly ill; but since you mention a fact which is, I acknowledge, very strange and quite out of keeping with his nature and habits, I think it right to tell you that from the day when Celeste seemed to signify that all was at an end between them, a very extraordinary change has come over Felix, which is causing Monsieur Phellion and myself the deepest anxiety.” “Yes, madame,” said Phellion, “the young man is certainly not in his normal condition.” “But what is the matter with him?” asked the countess, anxiously.