Ursula

church, her glance, which the doctor intercepted, this meeting of all the expectant ones in the public square, and the expression in their eyes as they turned them on Ursula, all proved to him their hatred, now freshly awakened, and their sordid fears.
    "It is a feather in your cap, Mademoiselle," said Madame Cremiere, putting in her word with a humble bow,—"a miracle which will not cost you much."
    "It is God's doing, madame," replied Ursula.
    "God!" exclaimed Minoret-Levrault; "my father-in-law used to say he served to blanket many horses."
    "Your father-in-law had the mind of a jockey," said the doctor severely.
    "Come," said Minoret to his wife and son, "why don't you bow to my uncle?"
    "I shouldn't be mistress of myself before that little hypocrite," cried Zelie, carrying off her son.
    "I advise you, uncle, not to go to mass without a velvet cap," said Madame Massin; "the church is very damp."
    "Pooh, niece," said the doctor, looking round on the assembly, "the sooner I'm put to bed the sooner you'll flourish."
    He walked on quickly, drawing Ursula with him, and seemed in such a hurry that the others dropped behind.
    "Why do you say such harsh things to them? it isn't right," said Ursula, shaking his arm in a coaxing way.
    "I shall always hate hypocrites, as much after as before I became religious. I have done good to them all, and I asked no gratitude; but not one of my relatives sent you a flower on your birthday, which they know is the only day I celebrate."
    At some distance behind the doctor and Ursula came Madame de Portenduere, dragging herself along as if overcome with trouble. She belonged to the class of old women whose dress recalls the style of the last century. They wear puce-colored gowns with flat sleeves, the cut of which can be seen in the portraits of Madame Lebrun; they all have black lace mantles and bonnets of a shape gone by, in keeping with their slow and dignified deportment; one might almost fancy that they still wore paniers under their petticoats or felt them there, as persons who have lost a leg are said to fancy that the foot is moving. They swathe their heads in old lace which declines to drape gracefully about their cheeks. Their wan and elongated faces, their haggard eyes and faded brows, are not without a certain melancholy grace, in spite of the false fronts with flattened curls to which they cling,—and yet these ruins are all subordinate to an unspeakable dignity of look and manner.
    The red and wrinkled eyes of this old lady showed plainly that she had been crying during the service. She walked like a person in trouble, seemed to be expecting some one, and looked behind her from time to time. Now, the fact of Madame de Portenduere looking behind her was really as remarkable in its way as the conversion of Doctor Minoret.
    "Who can Madame de Portenduere be looking for?" said Madame Massin, rejoining the other heirs, who were for the moment struck dumb by the doctor's answer.
    "For the cure," said Dionis, the notary, suddenly striking his forehead as if some forgotten thought or memory had occurred to him. "I have an idea! I'll save your inheritance! Let us go and breakfast gayly with Madame Minoret."
    We can well imagine the alacrity with which the heirs followed the notary to the post house. Goupil, who accompanied his friend Desire, locked arm in arm with him, whispered something in the youth's ear with an odious smile.
    "What do I care?" answered the son of the house, shrugging his shoulders. "I am madly in love with Florine, the most celestial creature in the world."
    "Florine! and who may she be?" demanded Goupil. "I'm too fond of you to let you make a goose of yourself wish such creatures."
    "Florine is the idol of the famous Nathan; my passion is wasted, I know that. She has positively refused to marry me."
    "Sometimes those girls who are fools with their bodies are wise with their heads," responded Goupil.
    "If you could but see her—only once," said Desire, lackadaisically, "you wouldn't say such things."
    "If I saw you throwing away your whole future for nothing better than a fancy," said Goupil, with a warmth which might even have deceived his master, "I would break your doll as Varney served Amy Robsart in 'Kenilworth.' Your wife must be a d'Aiglement or a Mademoiselle du Rouvre, and get you made a deputy. My future depends on yours, and I sha'n't let you commit any follies."
    "I am rich enough to care only for happiness," replied Desire.
    "What are you two