“Ah! what a pearl she is!” exclaimed la Peyrade, raising his eyes to heaven.  “I have the weakness to pray to God for her every day.  She is charming; she is exactly like you—­oh! nonsense; surely you needn’t caution me!  Dutocq told me all.  Well, I’ll be with you to-night.  I must go to the Phellions’ now, and begin to work our plan.  You don’t need me to caution you not to let it be known that you are thinking of me for Celeste; if you do, you’ll cut off my arms and legs.  Therefore, silence! even to Flavie.  Wait till she speaks to you herself.  Phellion shall to-night broach the matter of proposing you as candidate for the council.”

“To-night?” said Thuillier.

“Yes, to-night,” replied la Peyrade, “unless I don’t find him at home now.”

Thuillier departed, saying to himself:—­

“That’s a very superior man; we shall always understand each other.  Faith! it might be hard to do better for Celeste.  They will live with us, as in our own family, and that’s a good deal!  Yes, he’s a fine fellow, a sound man.”

To minds of Thuillier’s calibre, a secondary consideration often assumes the importance of a principal reason.  Theodose had behaved to him with charming bonhomie.

CHAPTER VII

The worthy Phellions

The house to which Theodose de la Peyrade now bent his steps had been the “hoc erat in votis” of Monsieur Phellion for twenty years; it was the house of the Phellions, just as much as Cerizet’s frogged coat was the necessary complement of his personality.

This dwelling was stuck against the side of a large house, but only to the depth of one room (about twenty feet or so), and terminated at each end in a sort of pavilion with one window.  Its chief charm was a garden, one hundred and eighty feet square, longer than the facade of the house by the width of a courtyard which opened on the street, and a little clump of lindens.  Beyond the second pavilion, the courtyard had, between itself and the street, an iron railing, in the centre of which was a little gate opening in the middle.

This building, of rouge stone covered with stucco, and two storeys in height, had received a coat of yellow-wash; the blinds were painted green, and so were the shutters on the lower storey.  The kitchen occupied the ground-floor of the pavilion on the courtyard, and the cook, a stout, strong girl, protected by two enormous dogs, performed the functions of portress.  The facade, composed of five windows, and the two pavilions, which projected nine feet, were in the style Phellion.  Above the door the master of the house had inserted a tablet of white marble, on which, in letters of gold, were read the words, “Aurea mediocritas.”  Above the sun-dial, affixed to one panel of the facade, he had also caused to be inscribed this sapient maxim:  “Umbra mea vita, sic!”