By cultivating the society of the doctor, the abbe, and Monsieur Bongrand, Savinien proved the excellence of his character.  The love of this young man for Ursula, so devoid of self-interest, and so persistent, interested the three friends deeply, and they now never separated the lovers in their thoughts.  Soon the monotony of this patriarchal life, and the certainty of a future before them, gave to their affection a fraternal character.  The doctor often left the pair alone together.  He judged the young man rightly; he saw him kiss her hand on arriving, but he knew he would ask no kiss when alone with her, so deeply did the lover respect the innocence, the frankness of the young girl, whose excessive sensibility, often tried, taught him that a harsh word, a cold look, or the alternations of gentleness and roughness might kill her.  The only freedom between the two took place before the eyes of the old man in the evenings.

Two years, full of secret happiness, passed thus,—­without other events than the fruitless efforts made by the young man to obtain from his mother her consent to his marriage.  He talked to her sometimes for hours together.  She listened and made no answer to his entreaties, other than by Breton silence or a positive denial.

At nineteen years of age Ursula, elegant in appearance, a fine musician, and well brought up, had nothing more to learn; she was perfected.  The fame of her beauty and grace and education spread far.  The doctor was called upon to decline the overtures of Madame d’Aiglemont, who was thinking of Ursula for her eldest son.  Six months later, in spite of the secrecy the doctor and Ursula maintained on this subject, Savinien heard of it.  Touched by so much delicacy, he made use of the incident in another attempt to vanquish his mother’s obstinacy; but she merely replied:—­

“If the d’Aiglemonts choose to ally themselves ill, is that any reason why we should do so?”

In December, 1834, the kind and now truly pious old doctor, then eighty-eight years old, declined visibly.  When seen out of doors, his face pinched and wan and his eyes pale, all the town talked of his approaching death.  “You’ll soon know results,” said the community to the heirs.  In truth the old man’s death had all the attraction of a problem.  But the doctor himself did not know he was ill; he had his illusions, and neither poor Ursula nor Savinien nor Bongrand nor the abbe were willing to enlighten him as to his condition.  The Nemours doctor who came to see him every day did not venture to prescribe.  Old Minoret felt no pain; his lamp of life was gently going it.  His mind continued firm and clear and powerful.  In old men thus constituted the soul governs the body, and gives it strength to die erect.  The abbe, anxious not to hasten the fatal end, released his parishioner from the duty of hearing mass in church, and allowed him to read the services at home, for the doctor faithfully attended