“There first, and next at the Tuileries,” she said to des Lupeaulx, who was startled by the words and by the attitude of the speaker, so expressive were they of ambition and security.

“Can it be that I am only a stepping-stone?” he asked himself.  He rose, and went into Madame Rabourdin’s bedroom, where she followed him, understanding from a motion of his head that he wished to speak to her privately.

“Well, your husband’s plan,” he said; “what of it?”

“Bah! the useless nonsense of an honest man!” she replied.  “He wants to suppress fifteen thousand offices and do the work with five or six thousand.  You never heard of such nonsense; I will let you read the whole document when copied; it is written in perfect good faith.  His analysis of the officials was prompted only by his honesty and rectitude,—­poor dear man!”

Des Lupeaulx was all the more reassured by the genuine laugh which accompanied these jesting and contemptuous words, because he was a judge of lying and knew that Celestine spoke in good faith.

“But still, what is at the bottom of it all?” he asked.

“Well, he wants to do away with the land-tax and substitute taxes on consumption.”

“Why it is over a year since Francois Keller and Nucingen proposed some such plan, and the minister himself is thinking of a reduction of the land-tax.”

“There!” exclaimed Celestine, “I told him there was nothing new in his scheme.”

“No; but he is on the same ground with the best financier of the epoch,—­the Napoleon of finance.  Something may come of it.  Your husband must surely have some special ideas in his method of putting the scheme into practice.”

“No, it is all commonplace,” she said, with a disdainful curl of her lip.  “Just think of governing France with five or six thousand offices, when what is really needed is that everybody in France should be personally enlisted in the support of the government.”

Des Lupeaulx seemed satisfied that Rabourdin, to whom in his own mind he had granted remarkable talents, was really a man of mediocrity.

“Are you quite sure of the appointment?  You don’t want a bit of feminine advice?” she said.

“You women are greater adepts than we in refined treachery,” he said, nodding.

“Well, then, say Baudoyer to the court and clergy, to divert suspicion and put them to sleep, and then, at the last moment, write Rabourdin.”

“There are some women who say yes as long as they need a man, and no when he has played his part,” returned des Lupeaulx, significantly.

“I know they do,” she answered, laughing; “but they are very foolish, for in politics everything recommences.  Such proceedings may do with fools, but you are a man of sense.  In my opinion the greatest folly any one can commit is to quarrel with a clever man.”

“You are mistaken,” said des Lupeaulx, “for such a man pardons.  The real danger is with the petty spiteful natures who have nothing to do but study revenge,—­I spend my life among them.”