which sparkled his gray eyes; and for a square nose, thick and long,
which gave him somewhat the air of the abbes of former times. His
countenance did not belie him. Pere Cardot belonged to that race of
lively Gerontes which is now disappearing rapidly, though it once
served as Turcarets to the comedies and tales of the eighteenth
century. Uncle Cardot always said "Fair lady," and he placed in their
carriages, and otherwise paid attention to those women whom he saw
without protectors; he "placed himself at their disposition," as he
said, in his chivalrous way.

But beneath his calm air and his snowy poll he concealed an old age
almost wholly given up to mere pleasure. Among men he openly professed
epicureanism, and gave himself the license of free talk. He had seen
no harm in the devotion of his son-in-law, Camusot, to Mademoiselle
Coralie, for he himself was secretly the Mecaenas of Mademoiselle
Florentine, the first danseuse at the Gaiete. But this life and these
opinions never appeared in his own home, nor in his external conduct
before the world. Uncle Cardot, grave and polite, was thought to be
somewhat cold, so much did he affect decorum; a "devote" would have
called him a hypocrite.

The worthy old gentleman hated priests; he belonged to that great
flock of ninnies who subscribed to the "Constitutionnel," and was much
concerned about "refusals to bury." He adored Voltaire, though his
preferences were really for Piron, Vade, and Colle. Naturally, he
admired Beranger, whom he wittily called the "grandfather of the
religion of Lisette." His daughters, Madame Camusot and Madame Protez,
and his two sons would, to use a popular expression, have been
flabbergasted if any one had explained to them what their father meant
by "singing la Mere Godichon."