Ursula

Bongrand must be fond of whist to stand such a dreadful racket," said Madame Cremiere.
    "I shall never be able to play before persons who don't understand music," Ursula was saying as she sat down beside the whist-table.
    "In natures richly organized," said the abbe, "sentiments can be developed only in a congenial atmosphere. Just as a priest is unable to give the blessing in presence of an evil spirit, or as a chestnut-tree dies in a clay soil, so a musician's genius has a mental eclipse when he is surrounded by ignorant persons. In all the arts we must receive from the souls who make the environment of our souls as much intensity as we convey to them. This axiom, which rules the human mind, has been made into proverbs: 'Howl with the wolves'; 'Like meets like.' But the suffering you felt, Ursula, affects delicate and tender natures only."
    "And so, friends," said the doctor, "a thing which would merely give pain to most women might kill my Ursula. Ah! when I am no longer here, I charge you to see that the hedge of which Catullus spoke,—'Ut flos,' etc.,—a protecting hedge is raised between this cherished flower and the world."
    "And yet those ladies flattered you, Ursula," said Monsieur Bongrand, smiling.
    "Flattered her grossly," remarked the Nemours doctor.
    "I have always noticed how vulgar forced flattery is," said old Minoret. "Why is that?"
    "A true thought has its own delicacy," said the abbe.
    "Did you dine with Madame de Portenduere?" asked Ursula, with a look of anxious curiosity.
    "Yes; the poor lady is terribly distressed. It is possible she may come to see you this evening, Monsieur Minoret."
    Ursula pressed her godfather's hand under the table.
    "Her son," said Bongrand, "was rather too simple-minded to live in Paris without a mentor. When I heard that inquiries were being made here about the property of the old lady I feared he was discounting her death."
    "Is it possible you think him capable of it?" said Ursula, with such a terrible glance at Monsieur Bongrand that he said to himself rather sadly, "Alas! yes, she loves him."
    "Yes and no," said the Nemours doctor, replying to Ursula's question. "There is a great deal of good in Savinien, and that is why he is now in prison; a scamp wouldn't have got there."
    "Don't let us talk about it any more," said old Minoret. "The poor mother must not be allowed to weep if there's a way to dry her tears."
    The four friends rose and went out; Ursula accompanied them to the gate, saw her godfather and the abbe knock at the opposite door, and as soon as Tiennette admitted them she sat down on the outer wall with La Bougival beside her.
    "Madame la vicomtesse," said the abbe, who entered first into the little salon, "Monsieur le docteur Minoret was not willing that you should have the trouble of coming to him—"
    "I am too much of the old school, madame," interrupted the doctor, "not to know what a man owes to a woman of your rank, and I am very glad to be able, as Monsieur l'abbe tells me, to be of service to you."
    Madame de Portenduere, who disliked the step the abbe had advised so much that she had almost decided, after he left her, to apply to the notary instead, was surprised by Minoret's attention to such a degree that she rose to receive him and signed to him to take a chair.
    "Be seated, monsieur," she said with a regal air. "Our dear abbe has told you that the viscount is in prison on account of some youthful debts,—a hundred thousand francs or so. If you could lend them to him I would secure you on my farm at Bordieres."
    "We will talk of that, madame, when I have brought your son back to you—if you will allow me to be your emissary in the matter."
    "Very good, monsieur," she said, bowing her head and looking at the abbe as if to say, "You were right; he really is a man of good society."
    "You see, madame," said the abbe, "that my friend the doctor is full of devotion to your family."
    "We shall be grateful, monsieur," said Madame de Portenduere, making a visible effort; "a journey to Paris, at your age, in quest of a prodigal, is—"
    "Madame, I had the honor to meet, in '65, the illustrious Admiral de Portenduere in the house of that excellent Monsieur de Malesherbes, and also in that of Monsieur le Comte de Buffon, who was anxious to question him on some curious results of his voyages. Possibly Monsieur de Portenduere, your late husband, was present. Those were the glorious days of the French navy; it bore comparison with that of Great