Bixiou [twisting off the second button and seizing another].  “Yes, in the interests of our noble tongue, it is proper to observe that although the head of a bureau, strictly speaking, may be called a clerk, the head of a division must be called a bureaucrat.  These gentlemen” [turning to the clerks and privately showing them the third button off Poiret’s coat] “will appreciate this delicate shade of meaning.  And so, papa Poiret, don’t you see it is clear that the government clerk comes to a final end at the head of a division?  Now that question once settled, there is no longer any uncertainty; the government clerk who has hitherto seemed undefinable is defined.”

Poiret.  “Yes, that appears to me beyond a doubt.”

Bixiou.  “Nevertheless, do me the kindness to answer the following question:  A judge being irremovable, and consequently debarred from being, according to your subtle distinction, a functionary, and receiving a salary which is not the equivalent of the work he does, is he to be included in the class of clerks?”

Poiret [gazing at the cornice].  “Monsieur, I don’t follow you.”

Bixiou [getting off the fourth button].  “I wanted to prove to you, monsieur, that nothing is simple; but above all—­and what I am going to say is intended for philosophers—­I wish (if you’ll allow me to misquote a saying of Louis XVIII.),—­I wish to make you see that definitions lead to muddles.”

Poiret [wiping his forehead].  “Excuse me, I am sick at my stomach” [tries to button his coat].  “Ah! you have cut off all my buttons!”

Bixiou.  “But the point is, do you understand me?”

Poiret [angrily].  “Yes, monsieur, I do; I understand that you have been playing me a shameful trick and twisting off my buttons while I have been standing here unconscious of it.”

Bixiou [solemnly].  “Old man, you are mistaken!  I wished to stamp upon your brain the clearest possible image of constitutional government” [all the clerks look at Bixiou; Poiret, stupefied, gazes at him uneasily], “and also to keep my word to you.  In so doing I employed the parabolical method of savages.  Listen and comprehend:  While the ministers start discussions in the Chambers that are just about as useful and as conclusive as the one we are engaged in, the administration cuts the buttons off the tax-payers.”

All.  “Bravo, Bixiou!”

Poiret [who comprehends].  “I don’t regret my buttons.”

Bixiou.  “I shall follow Minard’s example; I won’t pocket such a paltry salary as mine any longer; I shall deprive the government of my co-operation.” [Departs amid general laughter.]

Another scene was taking place in the minister’s reception-room, more instructive than the one we have just related, because it shows how great ideas are allowed to perish in the higher regions of State affairs, and in what way statesmen console themselves.

Des Lupeaulx was presenting the new director, Monsieur Baudoyer, to the minister.  A number of persons were assembled in the salon,—­two or three ministerial deputies, a few men of influence, and Monsieur Clergeot (whose division was now merged with La Billardiere’s under Baudoyer’s direction), to whom the minister was promising an honorable pension.  After a few general remarks, the great event of the day was brought up.