“My child,” said the old lady, “trials are in the heart.  The greater and more necessary the resignation, the harder the struggle with our own selves.  But don’t speak of me, let us talk of your affairs.  You are directly in front of the enemy,” she added, pointing to the windows of the Rouget house.

“They are sitting down to dinner,” said Adolphine.

The young girl, destined for a cloister, was constantly looking out of the window, in hopes of getting some light upon the enormities imputed to Maxence Gilet, the Rabouilleuse, and Jean-Jacques, of which a few words reached her ears whenever she was sent out of the room that others might talk about them.  The old lady now told her granddaughter to leave her alone with Madame Bridau and Joseph until the arrival of visitors.

“For,” she said, turning to the Parisians, “I know my Issoudun by heart; we shall have ten or twelve batches of inquisitive folk here to-night.”

In fact Madame Hochon had hardly related the events and the details concerning the astounding influence obtained by Maxence Gilet and the Rabouilleuse over Jean-Jacques Rouget (without, of course, following the synthetical method with which they have been presented here), adding the many comments, descriptions, and hypotheses with which the good and evil tongues of the town embroidered them, before Adolphine announced the approach of the Borniche, Beaussier, Lousteau-Prangin, Fichet, Goddet-Herau families; in all, fourteen persons looming in the distance.

“You now see, my dear child,” said the old lady, concluding her tale, “that it will not be an easy matter to get this property out of the jaws of the wolf—­”

“It seems to me so difficult—­with a scoundrel such as you represent him, and a daring woman like that crab-girl—­as to be actually impossible,” remarked Joseph.  “We should have to stay a year in Issoudun to counteract their influence and overthrow their dominion over my uncle.  Money isn’t worth such a struggle,—­not to speak of the meannesses to which we should have to condescend.  My mother has only two weeks’ leave of absence; her place is a permanent one, and she must not risk it.  As for me, in the month of October I have an important work, which Schinner has just obtained for me from a peer of France; so you see, madame, my future fortune is in my brushes.”

This speech was received by Madame Hochon with much amazement.  Though relatively superior to the town she lived in, the old lady did not believe in painting.  She glanced at her goddaughter, and again pressed her hand.

“This Maxence is the second volume of Philippe,” whispered Joseph in his mother’s ear, “—­only cleverer and better behaved.  Well, madame,” he said, aloud, we won’t trouble Monsieur Hochon by staying very long.”

“Ah! you are young; you know nothing of the world,” said the old lady.  “A couple of weeks, if you are judicious, may produce great results; listen to my advice, and act accordingly.”