and terrible was the storm gathering on the head of the foot-boy, who by his slowness in opening the door was putting his mistress in a situation less tolerable than that of Louis XIV., who had only almost waited.  In her feverish impatience Madame Phellion had just given the bell a third and ferocious reverberation, when, judge of her confusion, a little coupe drew up with much clatter at the door of her house, and a lady descended, whom she recognized, at this untimely hour, as the elegant Comtesse Torna de Godollo!

Turning a purplish scarlet, the unfortunate bourgeoise lost her head, and, floundering in excuses, she was about to complicate the position by some signal piece of awkwardness, when, happily for her, Phellion, attracted by the noise of the bell, and attired in a dressing-gown and Greek cap, came out of his study to inquire what was the matter.  After a speech, the pompous charm of which did much to compensate for his dishabille, the great citizen, with the serenity that never abandoned him, offered his hand very gallantly to the lady, and having installed her in the salon, said:—­

“May I, without indiscretion, ask Madame la comtesse what has procured for us the unhoped-for advantage of this visit?”

“I have come,” said the lady, “to talk with Madame Phellion on a matter which must deeply interest her.  I have no other way of meeting her without witnesses; and therefore, though I am hardly known to Madame Phellion, I have taken the liberty to call upon her here.”

“Madame, your visit is a great honor to this poor dwelling.  But where is Madame Phellion?” added the worthy man, impatiently, going towards the door.

“No, I beg of you, don’t disturb her,” said the countess; “I have heedlessly come at a moment when she is busy with household cares.  Brigitte has been my educator in such matters, and I know the respect we ought to pay to good housekeepers.  Besides, I have the pleasure of your presence, which I scarcely expected.”

Before Phellion could reply to these obliging words, Madame Phellion appeared.  A cap with ribbons had taken the place of the market bonnet, and a large shawl covered the other insufficiencies of the morning toilet.  When his wife arrived, the great citizen made as though he would discreetly retire.

“Monsieur Phellion,” said the countess, “you are not one too many in the conference I desire with madame; on the contrary, your excellent judgment will be most useful in throwing light upon a matter as interesting to you as to your wife.  I allude to the marriage of your son.”

“The marriage of my son!” cried Madame Phellion, with a look of astonishment; “but I am not aware that anything of the kind is at present in prospect.”

“The marriage of Monsieur Felix with Mademoiselle Celeste is, I think, one of your strongest desires—­”

“But we have never,” said Phellion, “taken any overt steps for that object.”