s combination of circumstances, M. de Camors,
toward the end of his twenty-eighth year, was elected, at intervals of
a few days, member of the Council-General, and deputy to the Corps
Legislatif.

"You have desired it, my dear Elise," said M. des Rameures, on learning
this double result "you have desired it, and I have supported this young
Parisian with all my influence. But I must say, he does not possess my
confidence. May we never regret our triumph. May we never have to say
with the poet: 'Vita Dais oxidated Malians.'"--[The evil gods have heard
our vows.]

CHAPTER XI. NEW MAN OF THE NEW EMPIRE

It was now five years since the electors of Reuilly had sent the Comte
de Camors to the Corps Legislatif, and they had seen no cause to
regret their choice. He understood marvellously well their little local
interests, and neglected no occasion of forwarding them. Furthermore, if
any of his constituents, passing through Paris, presented themselves
at his small hotel on the Rue de l'Imperatrice--it had been built by
an architect named Lescande, as a compliment from the deputy to his old
friend--they were received with a winning affability that sent them back
to the province with softened hearts. M. de Camors would condescend to
inquire whether their wives or their daughters had borne them company;
he would place at their disposal tickets for the theatres and passes
into the Legislative Chamber; and would show them his pictures and his
stables. He also trotted out his horses in the court under their eyes.
They found him much improved in personal appearance, and even reported
affectionately that his face was fuller and had lost the melancholy cast
it used to wear. His manner, once reserved, was now warmer, without
any loss of dignity; his expression, once morose, was now marked by a
serenity at once pleasing and grave. His politeness was almost a royal
grace; for he showed to women--young or old, rich or poor, virtuous or
otherwise--the famous suavity of Louis the Fourteenth.

To his equals, as to his inferiors, his urbanity was perfection; for he
cultivated in the depths of his soul--for women, for his inferiors, for
his equals, and for his constituents--the same contempt.

He loved, esteemed, and respected only himself; but that self he loved,
esteemed, and respected as a god! In fact, he had now, realized as
completely as possible, in his own person, that almost superhuman ideal
he had conceived in the most critic