“I am quite sure you will think of me to-morrow,” he said, alluding to the appointment.

“There are so few high functionaries who have agreeable wives,” remarked his Excellency on re-entering the room, “that I am very well satisfied with our new acquisition.”

“Don’t you think her a little overpowering?” said des Lupeaulx with a piqued air.

The women present all exchanged expressive glances; the rivalry between the minister and his secretary amused them and instigated one of those pretty little comedies which Parisian women play so well.  They excited and led on his Excellency and des Lupeaulx by a series of comments on Madame Rabourdin:  one thought her too studied in manner, too eager to appear clever; another compared the graces of the middle classes with the manners of high life, while des Lupeaulx defended his pretended mistress as we all defend an enemy in society.

“Do her justice, ladies,” he said; “is it not extraordinary that the daughter of an auctioneer should appear as well as she does?  See where she came from, and what she is.  She will end in the Tuileries; that is what she intends,—­she told me so.”

“Suppose she is the daughter of an auctioneer,” said the Comtesse Feraud, smiling, “that will not hinder her husband’s rise to power.”

“Not in these days, you mean,” said the minister’s wife, tightening her lips.

“Madame,” said his Excellency to the countess, sternly, “such sentiments and such speeches lead to revolutions; unhappily, the court and the great world do not restrain them.  You would hardly believe, however, how the injudicious conduct of the aristocracy in this respect displeases certain clear-sighted personages at the palace.  If I were a great lord, instead of being, as I am, a mere country gentleman who seems to be placed where he is to transact your business for you, the monarchy would not be as insecure as I now think it is.  What becomes of a throne which does not bestow dignity on those who administer its government?  We are far indeed from the days when a king could make men great at will,—­such men as Louvois, Colbert, Richelieu, Jeannin, Villeroy, Sully,—­Sully, in his origin, was no greater than I. I speak to you thus because we are here in private among ourselves.  I should be very paltry indeed if I were personally offended by such speeches.  After all, it is for us and not for others to make us great.”

“You are appointed, dear,” cried Celestine, pressing her husband’s hand as they drove away.  “If it had not been for des Lupeaulx I should have explained your scheme to his Excellency.  But I will do it next Tuesday, and it will help the further matter of making you Master of petitions.”

In the life of every woman there comes a day when she shines in all her glory; a day which gives her an unfading recollection to which she recurs with happiness all her life.  As Madame Rabourdin took off one by one the ornaments of her apparel, she thought over the events of this evening, and marked the day among the triumphs and glories of her life,—­all her beauties had been seen and envied, she had been praised and flattered by the minister’s wife, delighted thus to make the other women jealous of her; but, above all, her grace and vanities had shone to the profit of conjugal love.  Her husband was appointed.