Collard!" thought Sulpice, as he inscribed his name on the
register. "One will never be able to say: the _Collard Administration_.
But it would be glorious if one day history said: the _Vaudrey
Administration_."

He re-entered the Hotel Beauvau, inflated with the idea. In the
antechamber, there were more office-seekers than were usually in
attendance. One of them, on seeing Vaudrey, rose and ran to him and said
quickly to Sulpice, who did not stop:

"Ah! Monsieur le Ministre--What a misfortune--Monsieur Collard--If there
were no eminent men like Your Excellency to replace him!--"

Vaudrey bowed without replying.

"What is the name of that gentleman?" said he as soon as he entered his
cabinet, to the usher who followed him. "I always find him, but I cannot
recognize him."

"He! Monsieur le Ministre? Why, that is, _Monsieur Eugene_!"

"Ah! very good! That is right! The eternal Monsieur Eugene!"

Just then Warcolier opened the door, looking more morose than sad, and
holding a letter that he crushed in his hand, while at the same time he
greeted Vaudrey with a number of long phrases concerning the dreadful,
unexpected, sudden, unlooked-for, crushing death--he did not select his
epithets, but allowed them to flow as from an overrunning cask--the
dramatic decease of Collard--of Nantes--. From time to time, Warcolier,
while speaking, cast an involuntary, angry glance at the paper that he
twisted in his fingers, so much so that Vaudrey, feeling puzzled, at
last asked him what the letter was.

"Don't speak to me about it--" said the fat man. "An imbecile!"

"What imbecile?"

"An imbecile whom I received with some little courtesy the other
morning--I who, nevertheless, go to so much trouble to make myself
agreeable."

"And that is no sinecure!--Well, the imbecile in question?"

"Left furious, no doubt, because of the reception accorded him--and to
me, me, the Under-Secretary of State, this is the letter that he writes,
that he dares to write! Here, Monsieur le Ministre, listen! Was ever
such stupidity seen? '_Monsieur le Secretaire d'Etat, you have under
your orders a very badly trained Undersecretary of State, who will make
you many enemies, I warn you. As you are his direct superior, I permit
myself to notify you of his conduct_,' etc., etc. You laugh?" said
Warcolier, seeing that a smile was spreading over Vaudrey's
blond-bearded face.

"Yes, it is so odd!--Your correspondent is evidently ignorant that there
a