Then, like a hurricane, she rushed into Madame Thuillier’s chamber; the latter was pale and trembling.

“What’s this you have told monsieur?—­that you give nothing to Celeste’s ’dot’?”

“Yes,” said the slave, declaring insurrection, although in a shaking voice; “my intention is to do nothing.”

“Your intention,” said Brigitte, scarlet with anger, “is something new.”

“That is my intention,” was all the rebel replied.

“At least you will give your reasons?”

“The marriage does not please me.”

“Ha! and since when?”

“It is not necessary that monsieur should listen to our discussion,” said Madame Thuillier; “it will not appear in the contract.”

“No wonder you are ashamed of it,” said Brigitte; “the appearance you are making is not very flattering to you—­Monsieur,” she continued, addressing the clerk, “it is easier, is it not, to mark out passages in a contract than to add them?”

The clerk made an affirmative sign.

“Then put in what you were told to write; later, if madame persists, the clause can be stricken out.”

The clerk bowed and left the room.

When the two sisters-in-law were alone together, Brigitte began.

“Ah ca!” she cried, “have you lost your head?  What is this crotchet you’ve taken into it?”

“It is not a crotchet; it is a fixed idea.”

“Which you got from the Abbe Gondrin; you dare not deny that you went to see him with Celeste.”

“It is true that Celeste and I saw our director this morning, but I did not open my lips to him about what I intended to do.”

“So, then, it is in your own empty head that this notion sprouted?”

“Yes.  As I told you yesterday, I think Celeste can be more suitably married, and my intention is not to rob myself for a marriage of which I disapprove.”

“You disapprove!  Upon my word! are we all to take madame’s advice?”

“I know well,” replied Madame Thuillier, “that I count for nothing in this house.  So far as I am concerned, I have long accepted my position; but, when the matter concerns the happiness of a child I regard as my own—­”

“Parbleu!” cried Brigitte, “you never knew how to have one; for, certainly, Thuillier—­”

“Sister,” said Madame Thuillier, with dignity, “I took the sacrament this morning, and there are some things I cannot listen to.”

“There’s a canting hypocrite for you!” cried Brigitte; “playing the saint, and bringing trouble into families!  And you think to succeed, do you?  Wait till Thuillier comes home, and he’ll shake this out of you.”

By calling in the marital authority in support of her own, Brigitte showed weakness before the unexpected resistance thus made to her inveterate tyranny.  Madame Thuillier’s calm words, which became every moment more resolute, baffled her completely, and she found no resource but insolence.