s?" said Warcolier, bearing his
head high and smiling with a silly, but an aggressively benign
expression, with the superior tone of satisfied fools.

"Nothing!" said Sulpice. "I think Verdi's music is superb!"

"Oh! a little Wagnerian," Warcolier replied, repeating what he had
heard. "But what of politics?"

"Ah! politics concerns you now!"

"Well! why," Warcolier replied, "that goes on well. There is a little
relaxation! a ministry more--more--"

"More homogeneous!" said Vaudrey, in a slightly mocking tone.

"Exactly. And, after all, the duty of every good citizen is to defend
the government under which we live."

Ah! assuredly, Vaudrey considered that his former Secretary of State,
now become the vassal of Granet, displayed a rather ridiculous
assurance. He smiled as if he would have laughed in his face and turned
his back upon him.

Warcolier was not annoyed, for he felt certain that he had angered the
former minister, and he was delighted. It was a kick from an ass. The
witticism of a fool.

Vaudrey regained his place, much dissatisfied at having come and furious
at this pretentious imbecile, when, on leaving the wings, he ran against
Lissac who was entering a sort of hall where Louis sat writing the names
of the entrances on the sheet.

Guy flushed slightly on seeing him.

"In order to see you, one has to meet you here," said Sulpice. "Why have
you not called on me? Is it because I am no longer a minister?"

"That would be a reason for seeing me more frequently," said Lissac.
"But it is not that. What do you want me to tell you? You know my
sentiments. I don't care to become a bore, as it is called, or a
ceaseless prater of morality, which is the same thing. Besides, morality
to me is something like the Montyon prize to a harlot! Then, too, I am
keeping in my corner and I shall stick to it hereafter closer than ever.
I have put the brake on. I am getting old, and I shall bury myself in
some suburb and look after my rheumatism."

In Lissac's tone there was an unexpected melancholy.

"Then you will not call on me again?"

"What is the use of worrying you?--Reflect for yourself, my good man!
You don't need me to emphasize your blunders. By the way, you know, our
mad mistress?--She is in the theatre."

"I have seen her!" said Vaudrey, turning very pale.

"She is not yet a duchess, but that will be patched up in four days. If
one were only a rascal, how one could punish the hussy! But what is the