The General, who began to entertain a high opinion of the Countess’s heart, declared that Mademoiselle d’Estrelles would find in him a friend and father.  After which flattering assurance, Madame de la Roche-Jugan seated herself in a solitary corner, behind a curtain, whence they heard sobs and moans issue for a whole hour.  She could not even breakfast; happiness had taken away her appetite.

The ice once broken, all tried to make themselves agreeable.  The Tonneliers did not behave, however, with the same warmth as the tender Countess, and it was easy to see that Mesdames Bacquiere and Van Cuyp could not picture to themselves, without envy, the shower of gold and diamonds about to fall into the lap of their cousin.  Messrs. Bacquiere and Van-Cuyp were naturally the first sufferers, and their charming wives made them understand, at intervals during the day, that they thoroughly despised them.  It was a bitter Sunday for those poor fellows.  The Tonnelier family also felt that little more was to be done there, and left the next morning with a very cold adieu.

The conduct of the Countess was more noble.  She declared she would wait upon her dearly beloved Charlotte from the altar to the very threshold of the nuptial chamber; that she would arrange her trousseau, and that the marriage should take place from her house.

“Deuce take me, my dear Countess!” cried the General, “I must declare one thing—­you astonish me.  I was unjust, cruelly unjust, toward you.  I reproach myself, on my faith!  I believed you worldly, interested, not open-hearted.  But you are none of these; you are an excellent woman—­a heart of gold—­a noble soul!  My dear friend, you have found the best way to convert me.  I have always believed the religion of honor was sufficient for a man—­eh, Camors?  But I am not an unbeliever, my dear Countess, and, on my sacred word, when I see a perfect creature like you, I desire to believe everything she believes, if only to be pleasant to her!”

When Camors, who was not quite so innocent, asked himself what was the secret of his aunt’s politic conduct, but little effort was necessary to understand it.

Madame de la Roche-Jugan, who had finally convinced herself that the General had an aneurism, flattered herself that the cares of matrimony would hasten the doom of her old friend.  In any event, he was past seventy years of age.  But Charlotte was young, and so also was Sigismund.  Sigismund could become tender; if necessary, could quietly court the young Marquise until the day when he could marry her, with all her appurtenances, over the mausoleum of the General.  It was for this that Madame de la Roche-Jugan, crushed for a moment under the unexpected blow that ruined her hopes, had modified her tactics and drawn her batteries, so to speak, under cover of the enemy.  This was what she was contriving while she was weeping behind the curtain.

Camors’s personal feelings at the announcement of this marriage were not of the most agreeable description.  First, he was obliged to acknowledge that he had unjustly judged Mademoiselle d’Estrelles, and that at the moment of his accusing her of speculating on his small fortune, she was offering to sacrifice for him the annual seven hundred thousand francs of the General.