“She has dragged him to vespers,” cried Madame Massin, drawing Madame Crémière’s attention to Ursule and her godfather as they were leaving the church.
“Let us go and speak to him,” said Madame Crémière, advancing toward the old man.
The change that the conference had wrought in all these faces surprised Doctor Minoret. He wondered what was the cause of this feigned friendliness, and, out of curiosity, favored the meeting of Ursule and the two women, eager to greet her with exaggerated affection and forced smiles.
“Uncle, will you allow us to come and see you tonight?” said Madame Crémière. “We have sometimes thought that we worried you; but it is such a long time since our children paid you their respects, and now our daughters are of an age to make acquaintance with our dear Ursule.”
“Ursule is worthy of her name,” replied the doctor, “she is very wild.”
“Let us tame her,” said Madame Massin. “And then, see here, uncle,” added this good housewife, trying to hide her projects under a calculation of economy, “we were told that your dear godchild shows such wonderful talent on the piano-forte, that we should be delighted to hear her. Madame Crémière and I are rather inclined to have her master for our little ones; for, if he had seven or eight pupils, he might fix his charges within reach of our fortunes—”
“Willingly,” said the old man, “and that would
