for Sallenauve.

Consequently, Monsieur Charles de Sallenauve is proclaimed Deputy.

PART III. MONSIEUR DE SALLENAUVE

I. THE SORROWS OF MONSIEUR DE TRAILLES

During the evening which followed the election in which he had played a
part so humiliating to his vanity, Maxime de Trailles returned to Paris.
It might be supposed that in making, on his arrival, a rapid toilet and
ordering his carriage to be instantly brought round, he was hastening to
pay a visit to the Comte de Rastignac, minister of Public Works, to whom
he must have desired to render an account of his mission, and explain as
best he could the reasons of its ill-success.

But another and more pressing interest seemed to claim him.

"To Colonel Franchessini's," he said to his coachman.

Arriving at the gate of one of the prettiest hotels in the _quartier_
Breda, and nodding to the concierge, he received an affirmative sign,
which meant, "Monsieur is at home"; and at the same time a valet
appeared on the portico to receive him.

"Is the colonel visible?" he asked.

"He has just gone into madame's room. Does monsieur wish me to call
him?"

"No, I'll wait for him in the study."

Then, like one familiar with the house, and without waiting for the
servant to usher him, he entered a large room on the ground-floor, which
looked into a garden, and was filled with a miscellaneous collection of
articles testifying to the colonel's habits and tastes. Books, charts,
and maps certainly justified the word "study"; but, as a frantic
sportsman and member of the Jockey Club, the colonel had allowed
this sanctum of mental labor and knowledge to become, by degrees, his
smoking, fencing, and harness room. Pipes and weapons of all shapes and
all lands, saddles, hunting-whips, spurs, bits of many patterns, foils
and boxing-gloves formed a queer and heterogenous collection. However,
by thus surrounding his daily life with the objects of his favorite
_studies_, the colonel proved himself a man who possessed the courage
of his opinions. In fact, he openly said that, beyond a passing notice,
there was no reading worth a man's attention except the "Stud Journal."

It is to be supposed, however, that politics had managed in some way
to slip into this existence devoted to muscular exercise and the hippic
science, for, from a heap of the morning journals disdainfully flung
upon the floor by the worthy colonel, Monsieur de Trailles picked up
a copy of the legiti