In the month of February 1832, on the day when Ursule was seventeen, as she rose in the morning she saw Savinien at his window in his sublieutenant’s uniform.
“How is it that I knew nothing about it?” she asked herself.
After the taking of Algiers, where Savinien had distinguished himself by a deed of valor that had won him the Cross, the corvette on which he sailed having remained at sea for many months, he had been quite unable to send a letter to the doctor, and he did not choose to retire from the service without consulting him. The new Government, wishing to keep so illustrious a name on the navy-list, had taken advantage of the general scramble of July to promote Savinien. Having obtained a fortnight’s leave, the young lieutenant had come by mail from Toulon in time for Ursule’s birthday, and to ask the doctor’s advice at the same time.
“He is come!” cried the girl, rushing into her godfather’s room.
“That is well,” he replied. “I can guess his reason for quitting the service; he can now remain at Nemours.”
“This is my birthday treat! It is all in those words!” she exclaimed, embracing the doctor.
In reply to a signal she made him, Savinien came across at once. She wanted to admire him; he seemed to her changed for the better. In fact, military discipline gives to a man’s gestures, gait, and demeanor a mixture of gravity and decision, a certain rectitude, which enables the most superficial observer to recognize a soldier under a civilian’s coat; nothing can more clearly prove that man is made to command. Ursule loved Savinien all the more for it, and felt a child’s delight in walking arm in arm with him in the little garden, while she made him tell her the part he had played “in his capacity of naval cadet” in the siege of Algiers. Evidently it was Savinien who had taken Algiers. She saw everything red, she declared, when she looked at Savinien’s decoration. The doctor, who, while dressing in his room, watched the pair, presently joined them. Then, without telling the Vicomte everything, he explained to him that in the event of Madame de Portenduère’s consenting to his marriage with Ursule, his goddaughter’s fortune was such as to make his pay superfluous in any rank he might be promoted to.
“Alas!” said Savinien, “it will take a long time to overcome my mother’s opposition. Before I left, when she had the alternative of keeping me near her if she would agree to my marrying Ursule, or of seeing me only at long intervals, and knowing that I was exposed to the risks of my profession, she let me go—”
“But, Savinien, we shall be together,” said Ursule, taking his hand and shaking it with a kind of irritation.
That they should see each other and never part was to her the sum-total of love; she saw nothing beyond; and her pretty impatience, and the petulance of her tone, expressed such perfect innocence that the doctor and Savinien were touched.
Savinien sent in his letter of resignation, and Ursule’s birthday was crowned with joy by her lover’s presence.
A few months later, by the beginning of May, Doctor Minoret’s home life had settled into calm regularity again, but with another constant visitor. The young Vicomte’s assiduity was at once interpreted as that of a future bridegroom; all the more so since, whether at mass or out walking, his manner and Ursule’s plainly betrayed the mutual understanding of their hearts. Dionis remarked to the heirs that the old man never claimed interest from Madame de Portenduère, who already owed it for three years.
“She will be forced to give in, to consent to her son’s marrying beneath him,” said the notary, “If such a misfortune should happen, it is probable that the larger part of your uncle’s fortune will prove, as Basile says, an irresistible argument.”
When the expectant heirs understood that the old man’s preference for Ursule was too great for him not to secure her happiness at their expense, their wrath became as cunning as it was deep. Every evening since the revolution of July had seen them meet at Dionis’ house, and there they cursed the lovers; and the evening hardly ever ended without their having tried in vain to hit on some way of thwarting the old man. Zélie, who had, no doubt, like the doctor, taken advantage of the fall in the funds to invest her enormous savings, was the most furious against the orphan and the Portenduères. One evening, when Goupil—who, however, as a rule, took care not to spend his evenings too dully—had come in to pick up some information as to the affairs of the town, which were under discussion, Zélie had a recrudescence of hatred. She had that morning seen the doctor, with Ursule and Savinien, returning from a drive in the neighborhood, with an appearance of intimacy that told all.
“I would give thirty thousand francs, gladly, if only God would take our uncle to Himself before that Portenduère and that little minx could be married,” said she.
Goupil walked home with Monsieur and Madame Minoret; and when they were in the middle of their vast courtyard, he said, looking about him to make sure that they were alone:
“Will you give me money enough to buy Dionis out of his business, and I will see that the marriage of Monsieur de Portenduère is broken off?”
“How?” ’ asked the colossus.
“Do you think I am fool enough to tell you my plan?” replied the clerk.
“Well, my boy, make them quarrel, and we will see,” said Zélie.
“I am not going to plunge into such a job on the strength of ‘we will see.’ The young gentleman is hotheaded, and might kill
