the
carriage was just crossing the Place de l'Odeon, and in spite of the
snow, he could see the front of the Odeon theatre brilliantly
illuminated. Now Adrienne, who had just turned her head towards that
side, might perhaps be astonished at the singular road they were taking.

In order to draw off her attention by a skillful diversion, the doctor
exclaimed suddenly: "Bless me! I had almost forgotten."

"What is the matter, M. Baleinier?" said Adrienne, turning hastily
towards him.

"I had forgotten a thing of the highest importance, in regard to the
success of our petition."

"What is it, please?" asked the young girl, anxiously.

M. Baleinier gave a cunning smile. "Every man," said he, "has his
weakness--ministers even more than others. The one we are going to visit
has the folly to attach the utmost importance to his title, and the first
impression would be unfavorable, if you did not lay great stress on the
Minister."

"Is that all, my dear M. Baleinier?" said Adrienne, smiling in her turn.
"I will even go so far as Your Excellency, which is, I believe, one of
his adopted titles."

"Not now--but that is no matter; if you could even slide in a My Lord or
two, our business would be done at once."

"Be satisfied! since there are upstart ministers as well as City-turned
gentlemen, I will remember Moliere's M. Jourdain, and feed full the
gluttonous vanity of your friend."

"I give him up to you, for I know he will be in good hands," replied the
physician, who rejoiced to see that the carriage had now entered those
dark streets which lead from the Place de l'Odeon to the Pantheon
district; "I do not wish to find fault with the minister for being proud,
since his pride may be of service to us on this occasion."

"These petty devices are innocent enough," said Mdlle. de Cardoville,
"and I confess that I do not scruple to have recourse to them." Then,
leaning towards the door-sash, she added: "Gracious! how sad and dark are
these streets. What wind! what snow! In which quarter are we?"

"What! are you so ungrateful, that you do not recognize by the absence of
shops, your dear quarter of the Faubourg Saint Germain?"

"I imagine we had quitted it long ago."

"I thought so too," said the physician, leaning forward as if to
ascertain where they were, "but we are still there. My poor coachman,
blinded by the snow, which is beating against his face, must have gone
wrong just now--but we are all right again. Yes, I