The Provencal gave Cerizet his right hand, pressing the other’s hand warmly:—­

“My good fellow,” he said, “be very sure that in whatever position I may find myself I shall never forget that from which you have drawn me by putting me in the saddle here.  I’m simply your bait; but you are giving me the best part of the catch, and I should be more infamous than a galley-slave who turns policeman if I didn’t play fair.”

As soon as the door was closed, Cerizet peeped through the key-hole, trying to catch sight of la Peyrade’s face.  But the Provencal had turned back to meet Thuillier, and his distrustful associate could not detect the expression of his countenance.

That expression was neither disgust nor annoyance, it was simply joy, appearing on a face that now seemed freed.  Theodose saw the means of success approaching him, and he flattered himself that the day would come when he might get rid of his ignoble associates, to whom he owed everything.  Poverty has unfathomable depths, especially in Paris, slimy bottoms, from which, when a drowned man rises to the surface of the water, he brings with him filth and impurity clinging to his clothes, or to his person.  Cerizet, the once opulent friend and protector of Theodose, was the muddy mire still clinging to the Provencal, and the former manager of the joint-stock company saw very plainly that his tool wanted to brush himself on entering a sphere where decent clothing was a necessity.

“Well, my dear Theodose,” began Thuillier, “we have hoped to see you every day this week, and every evening we find our hopes deceived.  As this is our Sunday for a dinner, my sister and my wife have sent me here to beg you to come to us.”

“I have been so busy,” said Theodose, “that I have not had two minutes to give to any one, not even to you, whom I count among my friends, and with whom I have wished to talk about—­”

“What? have you really been thinking seriously over what you said to me?” cried Thuillier, interrupting him.

“If you had not come here now for a full understanding, I shouldn’t respect you as I do,” replied la Peyrade, smiling.  “You have been a sub-director, and therefore you must have the remains of ambition —­which is deucedly legitimate in your case!  Come, now, between ourselves, when one sees a Minard, that gilded pot, displaying himself at the Tuileries, and complimenting the king, and a Popinot about to become a minister of State, and then look at you! a man trained to administrative work, a man with thirty years’ experience, who has seen six governments, left to plant balsams in a little garden!  Heavens and earth!—­I am frank, my dear Thuillier, and I’ll say, honestly, that I want to advance you, because you’ll draw me after you.  Well, here’s my plan.  We are soon to elect a member of the council-general from this arrondissement; and that member must be you.  And,” he added, dwelling on the word, “it will be you!  After that, you will certainly be deputy from the arrondissement when the Chamber is re-elected, which must surely be before long.  The votes that elect you to the municipal council will stand by you in the election for deputy, trust me for that.”