ith him. He has not done something that I asked
him. Delay is dangerous, and I live in terror."

"What?" she asked, turning a little white.

"If you would give me the Empire, I could not tell you now."

They were in the salon. He put his heels together and bowed; she swept
him a curtsey.

"Help me to hand the coffee," she said under her breath.

So it came to pass, when the coffee-table was brought in, that they
walked up together to the new sofa, polished mahogany and yellow satin,
finished with winged Sphinxes in gilded bronze, where Madame de Sainfoy
and General Ratoneau were sitting side by side.

The Prefect, of course, had brought his hostess back from the
dining-room and had stood talking to her for a few minutes afterwards.
But the General, having deposited his lady, came clanking up almost
immediately to rejoin Madame de Sainfoy.

"Allow me, my dear Prefect," he said. "I have not finished an
interesting talk with Madame la Comtesse."

Monsieur de Mauves looked at him, then glanced at her with a questioning
smile.

"Yes, it is true. We had just touched on a subject of the very deepest
interest," she said.

Her look, her smile, seemed to glide over the Prefect's tall figure and
pleasant face, as if he was merely a not disagreeable obstacle, to rest
thoughtfully, with satisfaction, on Ratoneau in his gorgeous uniform.

"Listen! I will confide in you, and then you will understand," said the
General, seizing the Prefect's arm. "I am going to consult Madame la
Comtesse on the subject of a marriage."

He showed his teeth in a broad smile, staring into the Prefect's face,
which did not change in its expression of easy good-humour.

"Whose marriage, may I ask? Your own?"

"You have said it, monsieur. My own. Could I do better?"

"You could not have a better counsellor. I retire at once," said the
Prefect.

Then an idea crossed his mind, for just as he was met, with a friendly
greeting--"A word with you, Monsieur le Prefet"--from Joseph de la
Mariniere, his eyes fell on Helene de Sainfoy as she turned away from
Angelot at the door. He had already admired her at a distance, so far
the most beautiful thing at Lancilly, in spite of the oppressed and
weary air that suited so ill with her fresh girlhood.

"Mon Dieu, what a sacrilege! But no, impossible!" said the Prefect to
himself.

Several young people were carrying the coffee-cups about the room,
Sophie and Lucie in white frocks among them. It was ge