pure lines, warm pallors of
complexion of which even the reflections were absorbed by the whiteness
of their _haiks_. Magnificently draped, they contrasted with the busts
ranged on either side of the aisle they were following, which, perched
on their high columns, looking slender in the open air, exiled from
their own home, from the surroundings in which doubtless they would
have recalled severe labours, a tender affection, a busy and courageous
existence, had the sad aspect of people gone astray in their path, and
very regretful to find themselves in their present situation. Excepting
two or three female heads, with opulent shoulders framed in petrified
lace, and hair rendered in marble with that softness of touch which
gives it the lightness of a powdered wig, excepting, too, a few profiles
of children with their simple lines, in which the polish of the stone
seems to resemble the moistness of the living flesh, all the rest
were only wrinkles, crow's-feet, shrivelled features and grimaces, our
excesses in work and in movement, our nervousness and our feverishness,
opposing themselves to that art of repose and of beautiful serenity.

The ugliness of the Nabob had at least energy in its favour, the vulgar
side of him as an adventurer, and that expression of benevolence, so
well rendered by the artist, who had taken care to underlay her plaster
with a layer of ochre, which gave it almost the weather-beaten and
sunburned tone of the model. The Arabs, when they saw it, uttered a
stifled exclamation, "Bou-Said!" (the father of good fortune). This was
the surname of the Nabob in Tunis, the label, as it were, of his luck.
The Bey, for his part, thinking that some one had wished to play a trick
on him in thus leading him to inspect the bust of the hated trader,
regarded his guide with mistrust.

"Jansoulet?" said he in his guttural voice.

"Yes, Highness: Bernard Jansoulet, the new deputy for Corsica."

This time the Bey turned to Hemerlingue, with a frown on his brow.

"Deputy?"

"Yes, monseigneur, since this morning; but nothing is yet settled."

And the banker, raising his voice, added with a stutter:

"No French Chamber will ever admit that adventurer."

No matter. The stroke had fallen on the blind faith of the Bey in his
baron financier. The latter had so confidently affirmed to him that the
other would never be elected and that their action with regard to him
need not be fettered or in any way hampered by the