"May I never find the solution of my problem if I even thought of it!"
cried the young professor. "I discovered, when talking with the little
Collevilles, that Francois has a strong turn for mathematics, and I
thought I ought to enlighten his father."

"Good, my son!" repeated Phellion. "I wouldn't have you otherwise. My
prayers are granted! I have a son whose honor, probity, and private
and civic virtues are all that I could wish."

Madame Colleville, as soon as Celeste had gone to bed, said to her
husband:--

"Colleville, don't utter those blunt opinions about people without
knowing something about them. When you talk of Jesuits I know you mean
priests; and I wish you would do me the kindness to keep your opinions
on religion to yourself when you are in company with your daughter. We
may sacrifice our own souls, but not the souls of our children. You
don't want Celeste to be a creature without religion? And remember, my
dear, that we are at the mercy of others; we have four children to
provide for; and how do you know that, some day or other, you may not
need the services of this one or that one? Therefore don't make
enemies. You haven't any now, for you are a good-natured fellow; and,
thanks to that quality, which amounts in you to a charm, we have got
along pretty well in life, so far."

"That's enough!" said Colleville, flinging his coat on a chair and
pulling off his cravat. "I'm wrong, and you are right, my beautiful
Flavie."