Dénéthoirtier, who resembled an enormous potato with a face, hands, feet, and a hat, such that his enemies mockingly called him M. Tête de Pomme de Terre, was sitting on a fauteuil after breakfast, smoking an enormous long wooden pipe. Three persons alone knew the strange language of that poor victim of the wrath of the Valards: Villefaramir, Valartine, and an old domestic named Barahier. But, as Villefaramir, who had attained his position of steuard through a fanatical loyalty to the Telbourbons, only communicated with the old Sharcoléonist when he could not avoid it, all the old man's happiness reposed in Valartine, who had come, through devotion, love, and patience, to understand at a glance all the thoughts of Dénéthoirtier, so that animated dialogues took place between Valartine and that pretended clay, who had nearly become dust, and was yet possessed of an immense knowledge, an unheard of penetration in judging pipe-weed, and an indomitable will.
As Valartine arrove, summoned by Barahier, Dénéthoirtier had been enraged to learn from Villefaramir that his granddaughter was destined to wed the son of his greatest enemy, albeit one who had died in 1815, after the fall of Sharcoléon. Villefaramir might have had his suspicions as to the identity of d'Imrahil's killer, but had limited himself to observing that the family that was united with d'Imrahil through marriage would extinguish the mere appearance of foul play. It was at this moment that Barahier returned with Valartine, whom he knew to be Dénéthoirtier's only comfort in this death in life (or was it life in death?) So he who lived under the Shadow of royal displeasure might listen to the echoes of a heart untroubled by any political ideas at all.
