Later, in 1875, Warcolier had re-issued his History of Work and his dedication was anxiously awaited.  It did not take him long to get over the difficulty.  He dedicated his work to another sovereign:  “To the People, who have substituted the nobility of work for that of birth, and that of blood shed for the country for that of blood shed by ancestors.”

And that very name which was formerly read at the foot of professions of faith:—­Appeal to Honest People.  The Revolution overwhelms us! is now found at the foot of proclamations wherein this devil of a Warcolier exclaims:—­Appeal to Good Citizens.  Reaction now threatens us!

This was the man whom Granet and his friends had worked so hard to thrust into the position of Undersecretary of State of the Interior.  Vaudrey reserved his opinion on this subject to be communicated to the President by and by.

The hour for the meeting of the Council drew near.  Sulpice saw, through the white curtains of the window, his horses harnessed to his coupe and prancing in the courtyard, although it was but a short distance from Place Beauvau to the Elysee.  He slipped the reports of the Prefect of Police and the Director of the Press into his portfolio and was about to leave, when the usher brought him another card.

“It is useless, I cannot see any one else.”

“But the gentleman said that if the minister saw his name, he would most assuredly see him.”

Vaudrey took the card that was extended to him on the tray: 

“Jeliotte!  He is right.  Show him in.”

He removed his hat and went straight toward the door, that was then opened to admit a pale-faced, lean man with long black whiskers that formed a sort of horsetail fringe to his face.  Jeliotte was a former comrade in the law courts, an advocate in the Court of Appeal, and he entered, bowing ceremoniously to Sulpice, who with a pleased face and outstretched hands, went to welcome the old companion of his youth.

Jeliotte bowed with a certain affectation of respect, and smiled nervously.

“How happy I am to see you,” Vaudrey said.

“You still address me in the old familiar way,” Jeliotte answered, showing his slightly broken and yellow teeth.

“What an idea!  Have I forfeited your good opinion, that I should abandon our familiar form of address?”

“Honors, then, have not changed you; well! so much the better,” said Jeliotte.  “You ask me how I am?  Oh! always the same!—­I work hard—­I am out of your sight—­but I applaud all your successes.”

While Jeliotte was speaking of Vaudrey’s successes, he sat on the edge of a chair, staring at his hat, and wagging his jaw as if he were cracking a nut between his frail teeth.

“I have been delighted at your getting into the cabinet.  Delighted for your sake—­”

“You ought also to be delighted on your own account, my good Jeliotte.  Whatever I may hereafter be able to do—­”