Colleville is attached to you; well, that's enough for you in this household." "Explain to me," said the handsome Thuillier to Tullia after this remark, "why women are never attached to me.

I am not the Apollo Belvidere, but for all that I'm not a Vulcan; I am passably good-looking, I have sense, I am faithful--" "Do you want me to tell you the truth ?" replied Tullia.
"Yes," said Thuillier.
"Well, though we can, sometimes, love a stupid fellow, we never love a silly one." Those words killed Thuillier; he never got over them; henceforth he was a prey to melancholy and accused all women of caprice.
The secretary-general of the ministry, des Lupeaulx, whose influence Madame Colleville thought greater than it was, and of whom she said, later, "That was one of my mistakes," became for a time the great man of the Colleville salon; but as Flavie found he had no power to promote Colleville into the upper division, she had the good sense to resent des Lupeaulx's attentions to Madame Rabourdin (whom she called a minx), to whose house she had never been invited, and who had twice had the impertinence not to come to the Colleville concerts.
Madame Colleville was deeply affected by the death of young Gondreville; she felt, she said, the finger of God.

In 1824 she turned over a new leaf, talked of economy, stopped her receptions, busied herself with her children, determined to become a good mother of a family; no favorite friend was seen at her house.

She went to church, reformed her dress, wore gray, and talked Catholicism, mysticism, and so forth.

All this produced, in 1825, another little son, whom she named Theodore.