He felt somewhat nervous and annoyed at this result. But what could be
done? To divert his thoughts, he listened to his colleagues'
communications. The Minister of War commenced to speak, and in a tone of
irritated surprise, instead of the lofty, patriotic considerations that
Vaudrey expected of him, Vaudrey heard him muttering behind his
moustache about soldiers' cap-straps, shakos, gaiter-buttons,
shoulder-straps, cloth and overcoats. That was all. It was the vulgar
report of a shoemaker or a tailor, or of a contractor detailing the
items of his account.

Sulpice was anxious for the Council to be over. The President, before
the close of the session, repeated, with all the seriousness of a judge
of the Court of Appeal: "Above all, messieurs, no innovations, don't try
to do too well, let things alone. Don't let us trouble about business!
Let us be content to live! The session is ended."

"Not about business?" said Vaudrey to himself.

He understood power in quite a different way. Longing for improvements,
he did not understand how to let himself be dragged on like a cork upon
a stream, by the wave of daily events. He was determined to put his
ideas into force, to give life and durability to his ministry. There was
no use in being a minister if he must continue the habitual
go-as-you-please of current politics. In that case, the first chief of
bureau one might meet would make as good a minister as he.

At the moment of leaving the Council Chamber, the Minister of War said
to him, in a jocose, brusque way: "Well! my dear colleague, Warcolier's
election does not seem to have pleased you? Bah! if he has changed
shoulders with his gun, that only proves that he knows how to drill."

And the soldier laughed heartily behind his closely buttoned frock coat.

Vaudrey got into his carriage and returned to the ministry to breakfast.

Formerly the breakfast hour was generally the time of joyous freedom for
Sulpice. He felt soothed beside Adrienne and forgot his daily struggles.

In their home on Chaussee d'Antin, he usually abandoned himself freely
to lively and cheerful conversation, to allow his wife to find in him,
the man of forty years, the fiance, the young husband of former days.
But here, before these exclusive domestics, the familiars of the
ministry, planted around the table like so many inspectors, rather than
servants, he dared not manifest himself. He scarcely spoke. He felt that
he was watched and listened to