Jeliotte cut the minister short and said in a tone as dry as tinder: 

“Oh! my dear Sulpice, believe one thing,—­that I ask you nothing.”

“Why?”

“Because—­no, nothing.  And I repeat, nothing.”

“And you would be wrong if I could be friendly to you or useful.”

“I have said nothing, and I stick to nothing.  You will meet quite enough office-seekers in your career—­”

“Evidently!”

“Petitioners also!”

“Most assuredly!”

“Well!  I am neither a petitioner nor an office-seeker nor a sycophant.  I am your friend.”

“And you are right, for I have great affection for you.”

“I am your friend and your devoted friend.  I should consider it a rascally thing to ask you for anything.  A rascally thing, I say!  You are in office, you are a minister, so much the better, yes, so much the better!  But, at least, don’t let your friends pester you, like vermin crawling before you, because you are all-powerful.  I will never crawl before you, I warn you.  I shall remain just what I am.  You will take me just as I am or not at all.  That will depend altogether upon the change of humor that the acquisition of honors may produce in you—­”

“Jeliotte! we shall see, Jeliotte!”

“Well!  You can take me or leave me.  And as I do not wish to be confounded with the cringing valets who crowd your antechambers—­”

“You crowd nothing, you will not dance attendance.  Have I asked you to dance attendance?”

“No, not yet—­I called simply to see if I should be received.  Yes, it is merely in the nature of an experiment—­it is made.  It is to your honor, I admit, but I will not repeat it—­I shall disappear.  It is more simple.  Yes, I have told you and I was determined to tell you that you will never see me, so long as you are a minister.”

“Ah!  Jeliotte!  Jeliotte!”

“Never—­not until you have fallen—­For one always falls—­”

“Fortunately,” said Sulpice, with a laugh.

“Fortunately or unfortunately, that depends.  I say:  when you have fallen—­then, oh! then, don’t fear, I will not be the one to turn my back on you—­”

“You are very kind.”

“Whatever you may have said or done, you understand, while you are in power—­and power intoxicates men!—­I will always offer you my hand.  Yes, this hand shall always be extended to you.  You will find plenty of people who will turn their backs on you at that moment.  Not I!  I am a friend in dark days—­”

“That is understood.”

“I will leave you to your glory, Vaudrey.  I crave pardon for not styling you:  Monsieur le Ministre; I could not.  It is not familiar to me.  I cannot help it.  I am not the friend for the hour of success, but for that of misfortune.”

“And you will return?”

“When you are overthrown!—­”

“Thank you!”

“That is like me!  I love my friends.”