Under the pressure of this eloquence, all the audience believed it great enough to become a splendid political instrument in the hands of their representative.  They all saw in Albert Savaron, Savarus the great Minister.  And, reading the secret calculations of his constituents, the clever candidate gave them to understand that they would be the first to enjoy the right of profiting by his influence.

This confession of faith, this ambitious programme, this retrospect of his life and character was, according to the only man present who was capable of judging of Savarus (he has since become one of the leading men of Besancon), a masterpiece of skill and of feeling, of fervor, interest, and fascination.  This whirlwind carried away the electors.  Never had any man had such a triumph.  But, unfortunately, speech, a weapon only for close warfare, has only an immediate effect.  Reflection kills the word when the word ceases to overpower reflection.  If the votes had then been taken, Albert’s name would undoubtedly have come out of the ballot-box.  At the moment, he was conqueror.  But he must conquer every day for two months.

Albert went home quivering.  The townsfolk had applauded him, and he had achieved the great point of silencing beforehand the malignant talk to which his early career might give rise.  The commercial interest of Besancon had nominated the lawyer, Albert Savaron de Savarus, as its candidate.

Alfred Boucher’s enthusiasm, at first infectious, presently became blundering.

The Prefet, alarmed by this success, set to work to count the Ministerial votes, and contrived to have a secret interview with Monsieur de Chavoncourt, so as to effect a coalition in their common interests.  Every day, without Albert’s being able to discover how, the voters in the Boucher committee diminished in number.

Nothing could resist the slow grinding of the Prefecture.  Three of four clever men would say to Albert’s clients, “Will the deputy defend you and win your lawsuits?  Will he give you advice, draw up your contracts, arrange your compromises?—­He will be your slave for five years longer, if, instead of returning him to the Chamber, you only hold out the hope of his going there five years hence.”

This calculation did Savarus all the more mischief, because the wives of some of the merchants had already made it.  The parties interested in the matter of the bridge and that of the water from Arcier could not hold out against a talking-to from a clever Ministerialist, who proved to them that their safety lay at the Prefecture, and not in the hands of an ambitious man.  Each day was a check for Savarus, though each day the battle was led by him and fought by his lieutenants—­a battle of words, speeches, and proceedings.  He dared not go to the Vicar-General, and the Vicar-General never showed himself.  Albert rose and went to bed in a fever, his brain on fire.