me Agency. But the detail that rejoiced the heart of the Chamber
above all else was the description of a burlesque ceremonial organized
by the Governor for driving a tunnel through Monte-Rotondo,--a gigantic
undertaking still in the air, postponed from year to year, requiring
millions of money and thousands of arms, which had been inaugurated with
great pomp a week before the election. The report described the affair
comically, the blow of the pick delivered by the candidate on the flank
of the great mountain covered with primeval forests, the prefect's
speech, the blessing of the standards amid shouts of "Vive Bernard
Jansoulet!" and two hundred workmen going to work at once, working day
and night for a week, and then--as soon as the election was
over--abandoning the piles of broken rock heaped around an absurd
excavation, an additional place of refuge for the redoubtable prowlers
in the thickets. The trick was played. After extorting money so long
from the shareholders, the _Caisse Territoriale_ had been made to serve
as a means of capturing the votes of the electors,--"And now, Messieurs,
here is one last detail with which I might well have begun, in order to
spare you the distressing story of this electoral burlesque. I learn
that a judicial inquiry into the Corsican concern has been opened this
very day, and that a searching expert examination of its books will very
probably lead to one of those financial scandals, too frequent, alas! in
our day, in which you will not, for the honor of this Chamber, permit
one of your members to be involved."

Upon that unexpected disclosure the reporter paused a moment to draw
breath, like an actor emphasizing the effect of his words; and in the
dramatic silence which suddenly settled down upon the whole assemblage,
the sound of a closing door was heard. It was Paganetti, the governor,
who had hastily left his seat in one of the galleries, with pale face,
round eyes, and mouth puckered for a whistle, like Mr. Punch when he has
detected in the air the near approach of a violent blow. Monpavon,
unmoved, puffed out his breastplate. The stout man wheezed violently
into the flowers on his wife's little white hat.

Mere Jansoulet gazed at her son.

"I spoke of the honor of the Chamber, Messieurs,--I have something more
to say on that subject."

Le Merquier was no longer reading. After the reporter, the orator came
upon the stage, the judge rather. His face was devoid of expression, h