Next day Madame Hochon and Agathe stood by Mademoiselle Flore Brazier’s bedside, where they set forth to the invalid and to Rouget all Philippe’s admirable sentiments. The Colonel was lauded throughout the town as a man of lofty and excellent character, especially in his conduct with regard to Flore. For a whole month the advantages to be derived from her marriage with old Rouget were impressed on Flore by Père Goddet, her doctor—a powerful influence over the mind of a patient—by good Madame Hochon speaking in behalf of religion, and by the gentle and pious Agathe.
Then when, fascinated by the idea of being Madame Rouget and a respectable and respected citizen’s wife, she was only eager to be well and celebrate the wedding, it was not difficult to make her understand that she could not become one of the old family of Rouget by turning Philippe out of doors.
“And, after all,” said old Goddet, “is it not to him that you owe this high preferment? Max would never have allowed you to marry Père Rouget. And then,” he whispered in her ear, “if you have children, will not Max be avenged? The Bridaus will get nothing.”
Two months after the fatal event, in February 1823, the invalid, by the advice of all about her, and implored by Rouget, received Philippe, whose scar made her weep, but whose manner to her, softened almost to affection, soothed her greatly. By Philippe’s desire he was left alone with his future aunt.
“My dear girl,” said the soldier, “I, from the first, have advised that you should marry my uncle; and if you consent, it can be done as soon as you are recovered—”
“So I am told,” said she.
“It is only natural that as circumstances compelled me to do you an injury, I want to do you as much good as possible. A fortune, a position, and a family are worth more than you have lost. At my uncle’s death you would not long have been that fellow’s wife, for I have heard from his friends that he had no happy lot in store for you! Look here, my dear child, let us understand each other. We will all live happily. You are to be my aunt—nothing but my aunt.
“You must take care that my uncle does not forget me in his will; on my part, you shall see how I will have you provided for in the settlements. Keep calm, think it over; we will speak of it again. As you see, the most sensible people, all the town, advise you to abandon an illegal position; and nobody objects to your seeing me. Everyone understands that in life sentiment must give way to interest. You will be handsomer than ever on your marriage day. Your illness, by leaving you pale, has given you a distinguished air. If my uncle were not so desperately in love with you, on my honor,” said he, rising and kissing her hand, “you would be the wife of Colonel Bridau.”
Philippe went away, leaving this last speech in Flore’s mind to arouse a vague idea of revenge, which smiled on the woman, who was almost happy at having seen this terrible personage at her feet. Philippe had just played, in little, the scene that Richard III plays with the queen he has lately made a widow. The upshot of the scene shows that interest wrapped up in feeling strikes very deeply into the heart, and dispels the most genuine grief. This is how, in private life, Nature allows herself to accomplish what in works of genius is a masterstroke of art; interest is the means by which she works, the genius of money.
Thus, in the beginning of April 1823, Jean-Jacques Rouget’s room presented the spectacle of a magnificent dinner in honor of the signing of a marriage-contract between Mademoiselle Flore Brazier and the old bachelor. No one was at all surprised. The guests were Monsieur Héron; the four witnesses—Messieurs Mignonnet, Carpentier, Hochon, and the elder Goddet; the Maire and the parish priest; Agathe Bridau, Madame Hochon, and her friend Madame Borniche, that is to say, the two old women who were authoritative in Issoudun. And the bride was keenly alive to this concession, won for her by Philippe, the ladies regarding it as a mark of protection needed by a penitent damsel. Flore was dazzlingly beautiful. The curé, who had for a fortnight been catechizing the ignorant Rabouilleuse, was to give her next morning her first Communion.
This wedding was the subject of the following article, published in the Journal du Cher at Bourges, and in the Journal de l’Indre at Châteauroux:—
Issoudun.
The religious movement is making progress in le Berry. All the friends of the Church and respectable people in this town collected yesterday to witness a ceremony, by which one of the chief landowners in this part of the country put an end to a scandalous state of affairs dating from a time when religion was a dead letter in these parts. This issue, due to the enlightened zeal of the ecclesiastics of this town, will, we hope, find imitators, and put an end to these discreditable unsanctified unions,
