In 1829 the old noblesse had recovered as to manners and customs something of the prestige it had irrevocably lost in politics.  Moreover, the sentiment which governs parents and grandparents in all that relates to matrimonial conventions is an imperishable sentiment, closely allied to the very existence of civilized societies and springing from the spirit of family.  It rules in Geneva as in Vienna and in Nemours, where, as we have seen, Zelie Minoret refused her consent to a possible marriage of her son with the daughter of a bastard.  Still, all social laws have their exceptions.  Savinien thought he might bend his mother’s pride before the inborn nobility of Ursula.  The struggle began at once.  As soon as they were seated at table his mother told him of the horrible letters, as she called them, which the Kergarouets and the Portendueres had written her.

“There is no such thing as family in these days, mother,” replied Savinien, “nothing but individuals!  The nobles are no longer a compact body.  No one asks or cares whether I am a Portenduere, or brave, or a statesmen; all they ask now-a-days is, ‘What taxes does he pay?’”

“But the king?” asked the old lady.

“The king is caught between the two Chambers like a man between his wife and his mistress.  So I shall have to marry some rich girl without regard to family,—­the daughter of a peasant if she has a million and is sufficiently well brought-up—­that is to say, if she has been taught in school.”

“Oh! there’s no need to talk of that,” said the old lady.

Savinien frowned as he heard the words.  He knew the granite will, called Breton obstinacy, that distinguished his mother, and he resolved to know at once her opinion on this delicate matter.

“So,” he went on, “if I loved a young girl,—­take for instance your neighbour’s godchild, little Ursula,—­would you oppose my marriage?”

“Yes, as long as I live,” she replied; “and after my death you would be responsible for the honor and the blood of the Kergarouets and the Portendueres.”

“Would you let me die of hunger and despair for the chimera of nobility, which has no reality to-day unless it has the lustre of great wealth?”

“You could serve France and put faith in God.”

“Would you postpone my happiness till after your death?”

“It would be horrible if you took it then,—­that is all I have to say.”

“Louis XIV. came very near marrying the niece of Mazarin, a parvenu.”

“Mazarin himself opposed it.”

“Remember the widow Scarron.”

“She was a d’Aubigne.  Besides, the marriage was in secret.  But I am very old, my son,” she said, shaking her head.  “When I am no more you can, as you say, marry whom you please.”

Savinien both loved and respected his mother; but he instantly, though silently, set himself in opposition to her with an obstinacy equal to her own, resolving to have no other wife than Ursula, to whom this opposition gave, as often happens in similar circumstances, the value of a forbidden thing.