Old Mme Muffat then, whom La Faloise had been well
acquainted with, was an insufferable old lady, always hand in glove with
the priests. She had the grand manner, besides, and an authoritative way
of comporting herself, which bent everybody to her will. As to Muffat,
he was an old man's child; his father, a general, had been created count
by Napoleon I, and naturally he had found himself in favor after the
second of December. He hadn't much gaiety of manner either, but
he passed for a very honest man of straightforward intentions and
understanding. Add to these a code of old aristocratic ideas and such
a lofty conception of his duties at court, of his dignities and of his
virtues, that he behaved like a god on wheels. It was the Mamma Muffat
who had given him this precious education with its daily visits to the
confessional, its complete absence of escapades and of all that is meant
by youth. He was a practicing Christian and had attacks of faith of such
fiery violence that they might be likened to accesses of burning
fever. Finally, in order to add a last touch to the picture, La Faloise
whispered something in his cousin's ear.
"You don't say so!" said the latter.
"On my word of honor, they swore it was true! He was still like that
when he married.
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