new hats, and they were soon reckoned amongst
the most sympathetic frequenters of the boulevards. Fortune Lapersonne
had his own wound beneath his armour, His wife, a young milliner whom he
carried off from a marquis, had gone to live with a chauffeur. He loved
her still, and could not console himself for her loss, so that very
often in the private room of a restaurant, in the midst of a group of
girls who laughed and ate crayfish, the two ministers exchanged a look
full of their common sorrow and wiped away an unbidden tear.

Hippolyte Ceres, although wounded to the heart, did not allow himself to
be beaten. He swore that he would be avenged.

Madame Paul Visire, whose deplorable health forced her to live with her
relatives in a distant province, received an anonymous letter specifying
that M. Paul Visire, who had not a half-penny when he married her, was
spending her dowry on a married woman, E-- C--, that he gave this
woman thirty-thousand-franc motor-cars, and pearl necklaces costing
twenty-five thousand francs, and that he was going straight to dishonour
and ruin. Madame Paul Visire read the letter, fell into hysterics, and
handed it to her father.

"I am going to box your husband's ears," said M. Blampignon; "he is a
blackguard who will land you both in the workhouse unless we look out.
He may be Prime Minister, but he won't frighten me."

When he stepped off the train M. Blampignon presented himself at the
Ministry of the Interior, and was immediately received. He entered the
Prime Minister's room in a fury.

"I have something to say to you, sir!" And he waved the anonymous
letter.

Paul Visire welcomed him smiling.

"You are welcome, my dear father. I was going to write to you. . . .
Yes, to tell you of your nomination to the rank of officer of the Legion
of Honour. I signed the patent this morning."

M. Blampignon thanked his son-in-law warmly and threw the anonymous
letter into the fire.

He returned to his provincial house and found his daughter fretting and
agitated.

"Well! I saw your husband. He is a delightful fellow. But then, you
don't understand how to deal with him."

About this time Hippolyte Ceres learned through a little scandalous
newspaper (it is always through the newspapers that ministers are
informed of the affairs of State) that the Prime Minister dined every
evening with Mademoiselle Lysiane of the Folies Dramatiques, whose charm
seemed to have made a great impression on him. T