“I will return and we will talk about him,” he said to Ramel, as he arose, indicating Garnier by a nod.  “Do not tell him who I am.  On my word, I should be ashamed—­Poor devil!”

“Multiply him by three or four hundred thousand, and be a statesman,” said Ramel.

Vaudrey bowed to the workman, who rose quickly and returned his salute with timid eagerness, and the minister went rapidly down the stairs of the little house and jumped into his carriage, making haste to get away.

He bore with him a feeling akin to remorse, and in all sincerity, for he still heard ringing in his ears, the poor consumptive’s voice saying: 

“What is it to me, who am suffering, whether Vaudrey or Pichereau be minister?”

On reaching Place Beauvau, he found a despatch requesting his immediate presence at the Elysee.  At the Palace he received information that surprised him like a thunderbolt.  Monsieur Collard—­of Nantes—­had just been struck down by apoplexy in the corridors of the ministry.  The President of the Council was dead and the Chief of the State had turned to Vaudrey to fill the high position which, but two hours before, had been held by Monsieur Collard.

President of the Council!  He, Vaudrey!  Head of the Ministry!  The first in his country after the supreme head?  The joyful surprise that such a proposition caused him, so occupied his mind that he was unable to feel very much moved by the loss of Monsieur Collard—­of Nantes—.  Sulpice, moreover, had never profoundly cared for this austere advocate, although he had been much associated with him.  His liking for this man who brought to the Council old-time opinions and preconceived ideas was a merely political affection.  The President’s offer proved to him that his own popularity, as well as his influence over parliament, had only increased since his recent entry on public life.  He was then about to be in a position to assert his individuality still better.  What a glorious time for Grenoble and what wry faces Granet would make!

Sulpice hastened to announce this news to Adrienne, although it would not become official until after Collard’s funeral obsequies.  He returned almost triumphantly to the Hotel Beauvau.  Only one thought, a sombre image, clouded his joy:  it was not the memory of Collard, but the sad image of the man whom he had met at Ramel’s, and who, when the Officiel should speak, should make the announcement, would shrug his shoulders and say ironically: 

“Well! and what then?”

He had scarcely whispered these words to Adrienne:  “President of the Council!  I am President of the Council!” when, without being astonished at the faint, almost indifferent smile that escaped the young wife, he suddenly thought that he was under obligation to make a personal visit to the Ministry of Justice where Collard was lying dead.

He ordered himself to be driven quickly to Place Vendome.