In church, she always gazed at the Holy Ghost, and noticed that there was something about it that resembled a parrot.  The likenesses appeared even more striking on a coloured picture by Espinal, representing the baptism of our Saviour.  With his scarlet wings and emerald body, it was really the image of Loulou.  Having bought the picture, she hung it near the one of the Comte d’Artois so that she could take them in at one glance.

They associated in her mind, the parrot becoming sanctified through the neighbourhood of the Holy Ghost, and the latter becoming more lifelike in her eyes, and more comprehensible.  In all probability the Father had never chosen as messenger a dove, as the latter has no voice, but rather one of Loulou’s ancestors.  And Felicite said her prayers in front of the coloured picture, though from time to time she turned slightly towards the bird.

She desired very much to enter in the ranks of the “Daughters of the Virgin.”  But Madame Aubain dissuaded her from it.

A most important event occurred:  Paul’s marriage.

After being first a notary’s clerk, then in business, then in the customs, and a tax collector, and having even applied for a position in the administration of woods and forests, he had at last, when he was thirty-six years old, by a divine inspiration, found his vocation:  registrature! and he displayed such a high ability that an inspector had offered him his daughter and his influence.

Paul, who had become quite settled, brought his bride to visit his mother.

But she looked down upon the customs of Pont-l’Eveque, put on airs, and hurt Felicite’s feelings.  Madame Aubain felt relieved when she left.

The following week they learned of Monsieur Bourais’ death in an inn.  There were rumours of suicide, which were confirmed; doubts concerning his integrity arose.  Madame Aubain looked over her accounts and soon discovered his numerous embezzlements; sales of wood which had been concealed from her, false receipts, etc.  Furthermore, he had an illegitimate child, and entertained a friendship for “a person in Dozule.”

These base actions affected her very much.  In March, 1853, she developed a pain in her chest; her tongue looked as if it were coated with smoke, and the leeches they applied did not relieve her oppression; and on the ninth evening she died, being just seventy-two years old.

People thought that she was younger, because her hair, which she wore in bands framing her pale face, was brown.  Few friends regretted her loss, for her manner was so haughty that she did not attract them.  Felicite mourned for her as servants seldom mourn for their masters.  The fact that Madame should die before herself perplexed her mind and seemed contrary to the order of things, and absolutely monstrous and inadmissible.  Ten days later (the time to journey from Besancon), the heirs arrived.  Her daughter-in-law ransacked the drawers, kept some of the furniture, and sold the rest; then they went back to their own home.