The lawyer walked for about five minutes with Madame Barniol and Madame Phellion beneath the leafless lindens, and gave them (in consequence of the embarrassing circumstances created by Phellion’s political obstinacy) a piece of advice, the effects of which were to bear fruit that evening, while its first result was to make both ladies admire his talents, his frankness, and his inappreciable good qualities.  When the lawyer departed the whole family conducted him to the street gate, and all eyes followed him until he had turned the corner of the rue du Faubourg-Saint-Jacques.  Madame Phellion then took the arm of her husband to return to the salon, saying:—­

“Hey! my friend! what does this mean?  You, such a good father, how can you, from excessive delicacy, stand in the way of such a fine marriage for our Felix?”

“My dear,” replied Phellion, “the great men of antiquity, Brutus and others, were never fathers when called upon to be citizens.  The bourgeoisie has, even more than the aristocracy whose place it has been called upon to take, the obligations of the highest virtues.  Monsieur de Saint-Hilaire did not think of his lost arm in presence of the dead Turenne.  We must give proof of our worthiness; let us give it at every state of the social hierarchy.  Shall I instruct my family in the highest civic principles only to ignore them myself at the moment for applying them?  No, my dear; weep, if you must, to-day, but to-morrow you will respect me,” he added, seeing tears in the eyes of his starched better half.

These noble words were said on the sill of the door, above which was written, “Aurea mediocritas.”

“I ought to have put, ‘et digna,’” added Phellion, pointing to the tablet, “but those two words would imply self-praise.”

“Father,” said Marie-Theodore Phellion, the future engineer of “ponts et chaussees,” when the family were once more seated in the salon, “it seems to me that there is nothing dishonorable in changing one’s determination about a choice which is of no real consequence to public welfare.”

“No consequence, my son!” cried Phellion.  “Between ourselves I will say, and Felix shares my opinion, Monsieur Thuillier is absolutely without capacity; he knows nothing.  Monsieur Horace Bianchon is an able man; he will obtain a thousand things for our arrondissement, and Thuillier will obtain none!  Remember this, my son; to change a good determination for a bad one from motives of self-interest is one of those infamous actions which escape the control of men but are punished by God.  I am, or I think I am, void of all blame before my conscience, and I owe it to you, my children, to leave my memory unstained among you.  Nothing, therefore, can make me change my determination.”

“Oh, my good father!” cried the little Barniol woman, flinging herself on a cushion at Phellion’s knees, “don’t ride your high horse!  There are many fools and idiots in the municipal council, and France gets along all the same.  That old Thuillier will adopt the opinions of those about him.  Do reflect that Celeste will probably have five hundred thousand francs.”