ht Freydet, hurt by the crushing glance
with which the Academician relegated to the ranks the nobody who had
ventured to greet him; 'it's my whiskers, I suppose.' The interruption
turned the thoughts of the candidate from his verses, and he began to
consider his plan of operations, his calls, his official announcement
to the Permanent Secretary. But what was he thinking of? The Permanent
Secretary was dead! Would Astier-Rehu be appointed before the vacation?
And when would the election be? He proceeded to consider all the
'details, down to his coat. Should he go to Astier's tailor now? And did
the tailor supply also the hat and sword?

_Pie Jesu, Domine_, sang a voice behind the altar, the swelling notes of
an opera singer, asking repose for Loisillon, whom it might be thought
the Divine Mercy had destined to special torment, for all through the
church, loud and soft, in every variety of voice, solo and in unison,
came the supplication for 'repose, repose.' Ah, let him sleep quietly
after his many years of turmoil and intrigue! The solemn stirring chant
was answered in the nave by women's sobbing, above which rose the tragic
convulsive gasp of Marguerite Oger, the gasp so impressive in the
fourth act of 'Musidora.' All this lamentation touched the kind-hearted
candidate and linked itself in his feelings to other lamentations and
other sorrows. He thought of relatives who had died, and of his sister
who had been a mother to him, and who was now given up by all the
doctors, and knew it, and spoke of it in every letter. Ah! would she
live even to see the day of his success? Tears blinded him, and he was
obliged to wipe his eyes.

'Don't come it too strong, it won't seem genuine,' said the sneering
voice of fat Lavaux, grinning close at his ear. He turned round
angrily; but here the young officer gave at stentorian pitch the command
'Carry--arms!' and the bayonets rattled on the muskets while the muffled
tones of the organ rolled out the 'Dead March.' The procession began
to form for leaving the church, headed as before by Gazan, Laniboire,
Desminieres, and Freydet's old master, Astier-Rehu. They all looked
superb now, the parrot green of their laced coats being subdued by
the dim religious light of the lofty building as they walked down the
central aisle, two and two, slowly, as if loth to reach the great square
of daylight seen through the open doors. Behind came the whole Society,
headed by its senior member, the wonder