“Farewell, monsieur,” said Rabourdin at last, with a manner that was half-solemn, half-satirical.

Sebastien meanwhile had made up a package of papers and letters belonging to his chief and had carried them away in a hackney coach.  Rabourdin passed through the grand courtyard, while all the clerks were watching from the windows, and waited there a moment to see if the minister would send him any message.  His Excellency was dumb.  Phellion courageously escorted the fallen man to his home, expressing his feelings of respectful admiration; then he returned to the office, and took up his work, satisfied with his own conduct in rendering these funeral honors to the neglected and misjudged administrative talent.

Bixiou [seeing Phellion re-enter].  “Victrix cause diis placuit, sed victa Catoni.”

Phellion.  “Yes, monsieur.”

Poiret.  “What does that mean?”

Fleury.  “That priests rejoice, and Monsieur Rabourdin has the respect of men of honor.”

Dutocq [annoyed].  “You didn’t say that yesterday.”

Fleury.  “If you address me you’ll have my hand in your face.  It is known for certain that you filched those papers from Monsieur Rabourdin.” [Dutocq leaves the office.] “Oh, yes, go and complain to your Monsieur des Lupeaulx, spy!”

Bixiou [laughing and grimacing like a monkey].  “I am curious to know how the division will get along.  Monsieur Rabourdin is so remarkable a man that he must have had some special views in that work of his.  Well, the minister loses a fine mind.” [Rubs his hands.]

Laurent [entering].  “Monsieur Fleury is requested to go to the secretary’s office.”

All the clerks.  “Done for!”

Fleury [leaving the room].  “I don’t care; I am offered a place as responsible editor.  I shall have all my time to myself to lounge the streets or do amusing work in a newspaper office.”

Bixiou.  “Dutocq has already made them cut off the head of that poor Desroys.”

Colleville [entering joyously].  “Gentlemen, I am appointed head of this bureau.”

Thuillier.  “Ah, my friend, if it were I myself, I couldn’t be better pleased.”

Bixiou.  “His wife has managed it.” [Laughter.]

Poiret.  “Will any one tell me the meaning of all that is happening here to-day?”

Bixiou.  “Do you really want to know?  Then listen.  The antechamber of the administration is henceforth a chamber, the court is a boudoir, the best way to get in is through the cellar, and the bed is more than ever a cross-cut.”

Poiret.  “Monsieur Bixiou, may I entreat you, explain?”