“Finish Thuillier’s pamphlet, in the first place, or he’ll go crazy; and leave me to work the other affair in your interests,” replied Brigitte. “But am I in friendly hands? For, to tell you the truth, little aunt, I have not been able to conceal from myself that you have, for some time past, changed very much to me.” “Changed to you! What change do you see in me, addled-pate that you are?” “Oh! nothing very tangible,” said la Peyrade; “but ever since that Countess Torna has had a footing in your house--” “My poor boy, the countess has done me many services, and I am very grateful to her; but is that any reason why I should be false to you, who have done us still greater services?” “But you must admit,” said la Peyrade, craftily, “that she has told you a great deal of harm of me.” “Naturally she has; these fine ladies are all that way; they expect the whole world to adore them, and she sees that you are thinking only of Celeste; but all she has said to me against you runs off my mind like water from varnished cloth.” “So, then, little aunt, I may continue to count on you?” persisted la Peyrade. “Yes; provided you are not tormenting, and will let me manage this affair.” “Tell me how you are going to do it?” asked la Peyrade, with an air of great good-humor. “In the first place, I shall signify to Felix that he is not to set foot in this house again.” “Is that possible?” said the barrister; “I mean can it be done civilly?” “Very possible; I shall make Phellion himself tell him. He’s a man who is always astride of principles, and he’ll be the first to see that if his son will not do what is necessary to obtain Celeste’s hand he ought to deprive us of his presence.” “What next?” asked la Peyrade. “Next, I shall signify to Celeste that she was left at liberty to choose one husband or the other, and as she did not choose Felix she must make up her mind to take you, a pious fellow, such as she wants. You needn’t be uneasy; I’ll sing your praises, especially your generosity in not profiting by the arrangement she agreed to make to-day. But all that will take a week at least, and if Thuillier’s pamphlet isn’t out before then, I don’t know but what we shall have to put him in a lunatic asylum.” “The pamphlet can be out in two days. But is it very certain, little aunt, that we are playing above-board? Mountains, as they say, never meet, but men do; and certainly, when the time comes to promote the election, I can do Thuillier either good or bad service. Do you know, the other day I was terribly frightened. I had a letter from him in my pocket, in which he spoke of the pamphlet as being written by me. I fancied for a moment that I had dropped it in the Luxembourg. If I had, what a scandal it would have caused in the quarter.”