aps.

"Perfectly so."

"You have no ambition for anything whatever?"

"Nothing, I await philosophically the hour for the monument."

He smiled when he saw that his own familiar remark was puzzling Vaudrey.

"The monument, there, on one side: Villa Montmartre!--Oh! I am not
anxious to have done with life. It is amusing enough at times. But,
after all, it is necessary to admit that the comedy ends when it is
finished. One fine day, I shall be found sleeping somewhere, here in my
armchair, or in my bed, suddenly, or perhaps after a long illness--this
would weary me, as a lingering illness is repugnant to me--and you will
read in one or two journals a short paragraph announcing that the
obsequies of Monsieur Denis Ramel, one-time editor of a host of
democratic newspapers, a celebrated man in his day, but little known
recently, will take place on such a day at such an hour. Few will
attend, but I ask you to be present--that is, if there is no important
sitting at the Chamber."

Old Ramel twirled his moustache with his long, lean fingers as he spoke
these last words into which he infused a dash of irony. He nullified it,
however, as he extended his frankly opened hand and said to Sulpice
Vaudrey:

"What I have said to you is very cheerful! A thousand pardons. The more
so that I do not think of doubting you for a single moment--You have
always been credulous. That is your defect, and it is a capital one. In
the world of business men and politicians, who are for the most part
egotists, of mediocrities, or to speak plainly--I know no more
picturesque term--of _dodgers_,--you move about with all the illusions
and tastes of an artist. You are like the brave fellows of our army,
poets of war, as it were, who hurled themselves to their destruction
against regiments of engineers. Certainly, my dear minister, I shall
always be delighted to give you my counsel, you whom I used to call my
dear child, and if the observations of a living waif can serve you in
anything, count on me. Dispose of me, and if by chance I can be useful
to you, I shall feel myself amply repaid."

"Ah!" cried Sulpice, "if you only knew how much good it does me to hear
the sincere thoughts of a man one can rely on! How different is their
ring from that of others!"

He then allowed himself to pass by an easy transition to the confessions
of his first deceptions or annoyances.

The selection that very morning, of Warcolier as Under Secretary of
State in