“Well,” continued Phellion, “you owe to God an additional thanksgiving, for He has granted that you be the mother of a man of genius; his toil, which lately we rebuked, and which made us fear for the reason of our child, was the way—­the rough and jagged way—­by which men come to fame.”

“Ah ca!” cried Madame Phellion, “can’t you stop coming yourself to an explanation of what you mean, and get there?”

“Your son,” said Minard, cautious this time in measuring the joy he was about to bestow, fearing another fainting-fit of happiness, “has just made a very important scientific discovery.”

“Is it true?” said Madame Phellion, going up to Felix, and taking him by both hands as she looked at him lovingly.

“When I say important,” continued Minard, “I am only sparing your maternal emotions; it is, in truth, a sublime, a dazzling discovery.  He is only twenty-five years old, but his name, from henceforth, is immortal.”

“And this is the man,” said Madame Phellion, half beside herself, and kissing Felix with effusion, “to whom that la Peyrade is preferred!”

“No, not preferred, madame,” said Minard, “for the Thuilliers are not the dupes of that adventurer.  But he has made himself necessary to them.  Thuillier fancies that without la Peyrade he could not be elected; the election is still doubtful, and they are sacrificing everything to it.”

“But isn’t it odious,” cried Madame Phellion, “to consider such interests before the happiness of their child!”

“Ah!” said Minard, “but Celeste is not their child, only their adopted daughter.”

“Brigitte’s, if you like,” said Madame Phellion; “but as for Thuillier—­”

“My good wife,” said Phellion, “no censoriousness.  The good God has just sent us a great consolation; and, indeed, though certainly far advanced, this marriage, about which I regret to say Felix does not behave with all the philosophy I could desire, may still not take place.”

Seeing that Felix shook his head with a look of incredulity, Minard hastened to say:—­

“Yes, yes, the commander is quite right.  Last night there was a hitch about signing the contract, and it was not signed.  You were not there, by the bye, and your absence was much remarked upon.”

“We were invited,” said Phellion, “and up to the last moment we hesitated whether to go or not.  But, as you will readily see, our position was a false one; besides, Felix—­and I see now it must have been in consequence of his lecture at the Academy—­was completely worn out with fatigue and emotion.  To present ourselves without him would have seemed very singular; therefore we decided that it would be wisest and best to absent ourselves.”

The presence of the man whom he had just declared immortal did not deter Minard, when the occasion was thus made for him, from plunging eagerly into one of the most precious joys of bourgeois existence, namely, the retailing of gossip.