“I shall be re-elected,” said Vaudrey, in a decisive tone, so as to cut short Jeliotte’s interminable phrases.

He was exceedingly unnerved.  This man’s stupidity would exasperate him.  He would never come across any but subjects of irritation or disheartenment.  He felt inclined to seek a quarrel with some one.  He would have liked to wrench Marianne’s wrist with his fingers.

As he entered the hall leading to the assembly, he unwittingly stumbled against a gentleman who was walking rapidly and without saluting him, although he thought that he recognized him.

“Yet I know him!”

He had not gone three steps before he perfectly recalled this eternal lobbyist, always bending before him and clinging to the armchairs of the antechambers, like an oyster to a rock, and whom the messengers, accustomed to his soliciting, bowing and scraping for years past, called Monsieur Eugene—­out of courtesy.

It was too much!  And, in truth, this strange fellow’s impoliteness was ill-timed.

Sulpice suddenly turned round, approached Renaudin, and said to him sharply: 

“You bowed more obsequiously to me a short time since, monsieur!  It seems to me that you were in the ministerial antechambers every morning!”

He expected a haughty reply from Renaudin, and that this man would have compensated him for the others.

Monsieur Eugene smiled as he answered: 

“Why, I am still there, monsieur!”

Vaudrey looked at him with a stupefied air, then in an outburst of anger, as if he conveyed in the reply that he hurled at this contemptible fellow, all the projects of his future revenge upon the fools, the knaves, the dull valets and the ungrateful horde, he said, boldly: 

“Well, you will salute me again, for I shall return there.”

He turned on his heels away from this worthless fellow, and entered the Chamber.

He heard an outburst of bravos; a perfect tempest of enthusiasm reached him.  He looked on and bit his lips.

Lucien Granet was in the tribune, and the majority were applauding him.

IX

Marianne Kayser had the good taste, and perhaps the good sense not to desire a solemnized marriage.  It mattered little to her if she entered her duchy surreptitiously, provided she was sovereign there.  She would have time later to assume a lofty air under her ducal coronet; meanwhile, she would act with humility while wearing the wreath of orange blossoms.  She had discharged Jean and Justine with considerable presents, thinking it undesirable to keep any longer about her people who knew Vaudrey.  She had advised Justine to marry Jean.

“Marriage is amusing!” she had said.

“Madame is very kind,” answered Justine, “but she sees, herself, that it is better to wait sometimes.  There is no hurry, one does not know what may happen.”