to such follies; you will forgive me,—­you are not a school-girl, or a bourgeoise of the rue Saint-Denis.  Bah! you and I are too well brought up for that.  There’s the Marquise d’Espard who has just left the room; this is precisely what she thinks and does.  She and I came to an understanding two years ago [the coxcomb!], and now she has only to write me a line and say, ’My dear des Lupeaulx, you will oblige me by doing such and such a thing,’ and it is done at once.  We are engaged at this very moment in getting a commission of lunacy on her husband.  Ah! you women, you can get what you want by the bestowal of a few favors.  Well, then, my dear child, bewitch the minister.  I’ll help you; it is my interest to do so.  Yes, I wish he had a woman who could influence him; he wouldn’t escape me,—­for he does escape me quite often, and the reason is that I hold him only through his intellect.  Now if I were one with a pretty woman who was also intimate with him, I should hold him by his weaknesses, and that is much the firmest grip.  Therefore, let us be friends, you and I, and share the advantages of the conquest you are making.”

Madame Rabourdin listened in amazement to this singular profession of rascality.  The apparent artlessness of this political swindler prevented her from suspecting a trick.

“Do you believe he really thinks of me?” she asked, falling into the trap.

“I know it; I am certain of it.”

“Is it true that Rabourdin’s appointment is signed?”

“I gave him the papers this morning.  But it is not enough that your husband should be made director; he must be Master of petitions.”

“Yes,” she said.

“Well, then, go back to the salon and coquette a little more with his Excellency.”

“It is true,” she said, “that I never fully understood you till to-night.  There is nothing commonplace about you.”

“We will be two old friends,” said des Lupeaulx, “and suppress all tender nonsense and tormenting love; we will take things as they did under the Regency.  Ah! they had plenty of wit and wisdom in those days!”

“You are really strong; you deserve my admiration,” she said, smiling, and holding out her hand to him, “one does more for one’s friend, you know, than for one’s—­”

She left him without finishing her sentence.

“Dear creature!” thought des Lupeaulx, as he saw her approach the minister, “des Lupeaulx has no longer the slightest remorse in turning against you.  To-morrow evening when you offer me a cup of tea, you will be offering me a thing I no longer care for.  All is over.  Ah! when a man is forty years of age women may take pains to catch him, but they won’t love him.”

He looked himself over in a mirror, admitting honestly that though he did very well as a politician he was a wreck on the shores of Cythera.  At the same moment Madame Rabourdin was gathering herself together for a becoming exit.  She wished to make a last graceful impression on the minds of all, and she succeeded.  Contrary to the usual custom in society, every one cried out as soon as she was gone, “What a charming woman!” and the minister himself took her to the outer door.