He observed with pleasure that something like a joyful beam gleamed in Mademoiselle Kayser’s gray eyes.

She also doubtless thought that it was desirable to take advantage of the occasion, to seize and cling to the opportunity.

“Then it is official?” she asked.

“Not yet.  But it is certain.”

What could Marianne hope for?  Again, she had no well-defined object; but she watched her opportunity, and since Vaudrey’s power was enlarged, well, she was to profit by it.  Claire Dujarrier, who had already served her so well, could be useful to her again and advise her advantageously.  That will be seen.

“Are you desirous of attending Collard’s funeral?” Vaudrey asked Marianne.

She laughed as she asked: 

“Why! what do you think that would be to me?”

“It will be very fine.  All the authorities, the magistrates, the Institute, the garrison of Paris will be present.”

“Then you think it is amusing to see soldiers file past?  I am not at all curious!  You will describe it all to me and that will be quite sufficient for me.”

Vaudrey walked at the head of the cortege that accompanied through Place Vendome and Rue de la Paix, black with the crowd, the funeral procession of Collard—­of Nantes—­to the Madeleine.  Troops of the line in parade uniforms lined the route.  From time to time was heard the muffled roll of drums shrouded in crepe.  The funeral car was immense and was crowded with wreaths.  As with bowed head he accompanied the funeral procession of his colleague, almost his friend,—­but, bah! friendship of committees and sub-committees!—­Sulpice was sufficiently an artist to be somewhat impressed with the contrast afforded by the display of official pomp crowning the rather obscure life of the Nantes advocate.  He had ever obtrusively before him, as if haunted by the spectre of the Poor Man before Don Juan, the lean face of Garnier and the white moustache of Ramel.  Which of the two had better served his cause, Ramel vanquished or Collard—­of Nantes—­dying in the full blaze of success?

He pondered over this during the whole of the ceremony.  He thought of it while the notes of the organ swelled forth, while the blue flames of the burning incense danced, and while the butts of the soldiers’ muskets sounded from time to time on the flagstones, as the men stood around the bier and followed the orders of the officer who commanded them.

On leaving the ceremony, Granet approached Sulpice while gently stroking his waxed moustache, and said in an ironical tone: 

“Do you know that it is suggested that a statue be raised in Collard’s honor?”

“Really?”

“Yes, because he is considered to have shown a great example.”

“What?”

“He is one of those rare cases of ministers dying in office.  Imitate him, my dear minister,—­to the latest possible moment.”

Sulpice made an effort to smile at Granet’s pleasantry.  This cunning fellow decidedly displeased him; but there was nothing to take offence at, it was mere diplomatic pleasantry expressed politely.