ed the street, forgetting
that she herself had just laid an interdict upon the mail.

She went home slowly, wrapped in thought. She even went out of her
way, passing along the Cours Sauvaire, as if to gain time and ease for
reflection before going in. Under the trees of the promenade she met
Monsieur de Carnavant, who was taking advantage of the darkness to
ferret about the town without compromising himself. The clergy of
Plassans, to whom all energetic action was distasteful, had, since the
announcement of the Coup d'Etat, preserved absolute neutrality. In the
priests' opinion the Empire was virtually established, and they awaited
an opportunity to resume in some new direction their secular intrigues.
The marquis, who had now become a useless agent, remained only
inquisitive on one point--he wished to know how the turmoil would
finish, and in what manner the Rougons would play their role to the end.

"Oh! it's you, little one!" he exclaimed, as soon as he recognized
Felicite. "I wanted to see you; your affairs are getting muddled!"

"Oh, no; everything is going on all right," she replied, in an
absent-minded way.

"So much the better. You'll tell me all about it, won't you? Ah! I must
confess that I gave your husband and his colleagues a terrible fright
the other night. You should have seen how comical they looked on the
terrace, while I was pointing out a band of insurgents in every cluster
of trees in the valley! You forgive me?"

"I'm much obliged to you," said Felicite quickly. "You should have made
them die of fright. My husband is a big sly-boots. Come and see me some
morning, when I am alone."

Then she turned away, as though this meeting with the marquis had
determined her. From head to foot the whole of her little person
betokened implacable resolution. At last she was going to revenge
herself on Pierre for his petty mysteries, have him under her heel, and
secure, once for all, her omnipotence at home. There would be a fine
scene, quite a comedy, indeed, the points of which she was already
enjoying in anticipation, while she worked out her plan with all the
spitefulness of an injured woman.

She found Pierre in bed, sleeping heavily; she brought the candle near
him for an instant, and gazed with an air of compassion, at his big
face, across which slight twitches occasionally passed; then she sat
down at the head of the bed, took off her cap, let her hair fall loose,
assumed the appearance of one in des