my life is out of keeping with such distinctions.  I have devoted myself, monsieur, to the service of the weak, like the late Councillor Popinot,—­a sublime man, as you justly remarked.  If I had not already chosen a career which is in some sort monastic, and precludes all idea of marriage and public office, my taste, my second vocation, would lead me to the service of God, to the Church.  I do not trumpet what I do, like the philanthropists; I do not write about it; I simply act; I am pledged to Christian charity.  The ambition of our friend Thuillier becoming known to me, I have wished to contribute to the happiness of two young people who seem to me made for each other, by suggesting to you the means of winning the rather cold heart of Monsieur Thuillier.”

Phellion was bewildered by this tirade, admirably delivered; he was dazzled, attracted; but he remained Phellion; he walked up to the lawyer and held out his hand, which la Peyrade took.

“Monsieur,” said the commander, with emotion, “I have misjudged you.  What you have done me the honor to confide to me will die there,” laying his hand on his heart.  “You are one of the men of whom we have too few,—­men who console us for many evils inherent in our social state.  Righteousness is seen so seldom that our too feeble natures distrust appearances.  You have in me a friend, if you will allow me the honor of assuming that title.  But you must learn to know me, monsieur.  I should lose my own esteem if I nominated Thuillier.  No, my son shall never own his happiness to an evil action on his father’s part.  I shall not change my candidate because my son’s interests demand it.  That is civic virtue, monsieur.”

La Peyrade pulled out his handkerchief and rubbed it in his eye so that it drew a tear, as he said, holding out his hand to Phellion, and turning aside his head:—­

“Ah! monsieur, how sublime a struggle between public and private duty!  Had I come here only to see this sight, my visit would not have been wasted.  You cannot do otherwise!  In your place, I should do the same.  You are that noblest thing that God has made—­a righteous man! a citizen of the Jean-Jacques type!  With many such citizens, oh France! my country! what mightest thou become!  It is I, monsieur, who solicit, humbly, the honor to be your friend.”

“What can be happening?” said Madame Phellion, watching the scene through the window.  “Do see your father and that horrid man embracing each other.”

Phellion and la Peyrade now came out and joined the family in the garden.

“My dear Felix,” said the old man, pointing to la Peyrade, who was bowing to Madame Phellion, “be very grateful to that admirable young man; he will prove most useful to you.”