Fifteen minutes later Flavie entered the salon, where Brigitte was walking up and down, in a state of extreme agitation.

“My dear,” she cried on seeing Flavie, “you can do me a great service, which concerns our dear Celeste.  You know Tullia, don’t you?—­a danseuse at the opera; my brother was always dinning her into my ears at one time.”

“Yes, I know her; but she is no longer a danseuse; she is Madame la Comtesse du Bruel.  Her husband is peer of France!”

“Does she still like you?”

“We never see each other now.”

“Well, I know that Chaffaroux, the rich contractor, is her uncle,” said Brigitte.  “He is old and wealthy.  Go and see your former friend, and get her to give you a line of introduction to him, saying he would do her an eminent favor if he would give a piece of friendly advice to the bearer of the note, and then you and I will take it to him to-morrow about one o’clock.  But tell Tullia she must request her uncle to keep secret about it.  Go, my dear.  Celeste, our dear child, will be a millionaire!  I can’t say more; but she’ll have, from me, a husband who will put her on a pinnacle.”

“Do you want me to tell you the first letters of his name?”

“Yes.”

“T.  P.,—­Theodose de la Peyrade.  You are right.  That’s a man who may, if supported by a woman like you, become a minister.”

“It is God himself who has placed him in our house!” cried the old maid.

At this moment Monsieur and Madame Thuillier returned home.

Five days later, in the month of April, the ordinance which convoked the electors to appoint a member of the municipal council on the 20th of the same month was inserted in the “Moniteur,” and placarded about Paris.  For several weeks the ministry, called that of March 1st, had been in power.  Brigitte was in a charming humor.  She had been convinced of the truth of all la Peyrade’s assertions.  The house, visited from garret to cellar by old Chaffaroux, was admitted by him to be an admirable construction; poor Grindot, the architect, who was interested with the notary and Claparon in the affair, thought the old man was employed in the interests of the contractor; the old fellow himself thought he was acting in the interests of his niece, and he gave it as his opinion that thirty thousand francs would finish the house.  Thus, in the course of one week la Peyrade became Brigitte’s god; and she proved to him by the most naively nefarious arguments that fortune should be seized when it offered itself.

“Well, if there is any sin in the business,” she said to him in the middle of the garden, “you can confess it.”

“The devil!” cried Thuillier, “a man owes himself to his relatives, and you are one of us now.”

“Then I decide to do it,” replied la Peyrade, in a voice of emotion; “but on conditions that I must now distinctly state.  I will not, in marrying Celeste, be accused of greed and mercenary motives.  If you lay remorse upon me, at least you must consent that I shall remain as I am for the present.  Do not settle upon Celeste, my old Thuillier, the future possession of the property I am about to obtain for you—­”