The young lady had the winning charm of her age; although she was not very pretty, her features attracted one by their fascinating expression of playfulness and mischief, which was often moderated by her mother’s stern glances.
Monsieur de Noirmont, who came after them, was a man of fifty; he was very tall and stooped a little; his temples were shadowed by a few dark hairs, but the top of his head was entirely bald. His appearance was stern, supercilious and far from attractive; his regular features had probably been handsome, but his steely glance, his sharp voice and his shortness of speech inspired neither affection nor confidence.
The arrival of these three persons seemed to cause Monfréville profound emotion; his brow became wrinkled, his eyebrows drew together, and a veil of melancholy covered his eyes. But in a moment, surmounting his sensations, he succeeded in resuming the amiable and unruffled air which he wore on his arrival; indeed one would have said that he made it a point to seem more cheerful than before.
Monsieur Trichet, who had returned to Chérubin’s side, did not fail to comment on the new arrivals:
“That’s the Noirmont family; they have left their estate in Normandie, and they live in Paris now. They must have found it very dull in the country. They are not a very hilarious family. That De Noirmont is stiff and sour and overbearing! Just because he was once in the magistracy, you would think that he was always sitting in judgment on you. However, he’s a man of the strictest probity; he deserves his reputation, but he’s not an agreeable companion. As for his wife, she is a worthy mate to her husband--she talks very little and never smiles. I don’t know whether she has any wit, but at all events she never compromises it. As for her virtue--oh! that is intact, as far beyond reproach as her husband’s probity. And yet Madame de Noirmont, who is very handsome still, although she may be thirty-three or thirty-four years old--yes, she must be quite that--must have been an enchanting creature at eighteen, assuming that she deigned to smile occasionally then. Their daughter, young Ernestine, is a mere child still. She is a nice little thing, merry and playful--which proves that she takes after neither father nor mother. But that is often seen.--Stay, colonel, I knew the person you are talking about, and I will explain the matter under discussion.”