“And I think, on the contrary, that you have lost ground; and the reason is simple:  you have done those people an immense service; and that’s a thing never forgiven.”

“Well, we shall see,” said la Peyrade.  “I have more than one hold upon them.”

“No, you are mistaken.  You thought you did a brilliant thing in putting them on a pinnacle, but the fact is you emancipated them; they’ll keep you now at heel.  The human heart, particularly the bourgeois heart, is made that way.  If I were in your place I shouldn’t feel so sure of being on solid ground, and if something else turned up that offered me a good chance—­”

“What! just because I couldn’t get you the lease of that house do you want to knock everything to pieces?”

“No,” said Cerizet, “I am not looking at the matter in the light of my own interests; I don’t doubt that as a trustworthy friend you have done every imaginable thing to promote them; but I think the manner in which you have been shoved aside a very disturbing symptom.  It even decides me to tell you something I did not intend to speak of; because, in my opinion, when persons start a course they ought to keep on steadily, looking neither forward nor back, and not allowing themselves to be diverted to other aspirations.”

“Ah ca!” cried la Peyrade, “what does all this verbiage mean?  Have you anything to propose to me?  What’s the price of it?”

“My dear Theodose,” said Cerizet, paying no attention to the impertinence, “you yourself can judge of the value of discovering a young girl, well brought-up, adorned with beauty and talents and a ‘dot’ equal to that of Celeste, which she has in her own right, plus fifty thousand francs’ worth of diamonds (as Mademoiselle Georges says on her posters in the provinces), and, moreover,—­a fact which ought to strike the mind of an ambitious man,—­a strong political influence, which she can use for a husband.”

“And this treasure you hold in your hand?” said la Peyrade, in a tone of incredulity.

“Better still, I am authorized to offer it to you; in fact, I might say that I am charged to do so.”

“My friend, you are poking fun at me; unless, indeed, this phoenix has some hideous or prohibitory defect.”

“Well, I’ll admit,” said Cerizet, “that there is a slight objection, not on the score of family, for, to tell the truth, the young woman has none—­”

“Ah!” said la Peyrade, “a natural child—­Well, what next?”

“Next, she is not so very young,—­something like twenty-nine or so; but there’s nothing easier than to turn an elderly girl into a young widow if you have imagination.”

“Is that all the venom in it?”

“Yes, all that is irreparable.”

“What do you mean by that?  Is it a case of rhinoplasty?”

Addressed to Cerizet the word had an aggressive air, which, in fact, was noticeable since the beginning of the dinner in the whole manner and conversation of the barrister.  But it did not suit the purpose of the negotiator to resent it.