"
"Ah! you are my nephew," said Jean-Jacques.
"Invite monsieur le colonel to breakfast with us," said Flore.
"No, I thank you, madame," answered Philippe, "I have breakfasted.
Besides, I would cut off my hand sooner than ask a bit of bread or a
farthing from my uncle, after the treatment my mother and brother
received in this town. It did not seem proper, however, that I should
settle here, in Issoudun, without paying my respects to him from time
to time. You can do what you like," he added, offering the old man his
hand, into which Rouget put his own, which Philippe shook, "--whatever
you like. I shall have nothing to say against it; provided the honor
of the Bridaus is untouched."
Gilet could look at the lieutenant-colonel as much as he pleased, for
Philippe pointedly avoided casting his eyes in his direction. Max,
though the blood boiled in his veins, was too well aware of the
importance of behaving with political prudence--which occasionally
resembles cowardice--to take fire like a young man; he remained,
therefore, perfectly calm and cold.
"It wouldn't be right, monsieur," said Flore, "to live on sixty francs
a month under the nose of an uncle who has forty thousand francs a
year, and who has already behaved so kindly to Captain Gilet, his
natural relation, here present--"
"Yes, Philippe," cried the old man, "you must see that!"
On Flore's presentation, Philippe made a half-timid bow to Max.
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