“But, Monsieur Vence,” said Madame Martin, laughingly, “you are the man who wrote that.  I read it.”

The two Ministers looked vainly in the theatre and in the corridors for the General.  On the advice of the ushers, they went behind the scenes.

Two ballet-dancers were standing sadly, with a foot on the bar placed against the wall.  Here and there men in evening dress and women in gauze formed groups almost silent.

Loyer and Martin-Belleme, when they entered, took off their hats.  They saw, in the rear of the hall, Lariviere with a pretty girl whose pink tunic, held by a gold belt, was open at the hips.

She held in her hand a gilt pasteboard cup.  When they were near her, they heard her say to the General: 

“You are old, to be sure, but I think you do as much as he does.”

And she was pointing disdainfully to a grinning young man, with a gardenia in his button-hole, who stood near them.

Loyer motioned to the General that he wished to speak to him, and, pushing him against the bar, said: 

“I have the pleasure to announce to you that you have been appointed Minister of War.”

Lariviere, distrustful, said nothing.  That badly dressed man with long hair, who, under his dusty coat, resembled a clown, inspired so little confidence in him that he suspected a snare, perhaps a bad joke.

“Monsieur Loyer is Keeper of the Seals,” said Count Martin.

“General, you cannot refuse,” Loyer said.  “I have said you will accept.  If you hesitate, it will be favoring the offensive return of Garain.  He is a traitor.”

“My dear colleague, you exaggerate,” said Count Martin; “but Garain, perhaps, is lacking a little in frankness.  And the General’s support is urgent.”

“The Fatherland before everything,” replied Lariviere with emotion.

“You know, General,” continued Loyer, “the existing laws are to be applied with moderation.”

He looked at the two dancers who were extending their short and muscular legs on the bar.

Lariviere murmured: 

“The army’s patriotism is excellent; the good-will of the chiefs is at the height of the most critical circumstances.”

Loyer tapped his shoulder.

“My dear colleague, there is some use in having big armies.”

“I believe as you do,” replied Lariviere; “the present army fills the superior necessities of national defence.”

“The use of big armies,” continued Loyer, “is to make war impossible.  One would be crazy to engage in a war these immeasurable forces, the management of which surpasses all human faculty.  Is not this your opinion, General?”

General Lariviere winked.

“The situation,” he said, “exacts circumspection.  We are facing a perilous unknown.”

Then Loyer, looking at his war colleague with cynical contempt, said: 

“In the very improbable case of a war, don’t you think, my dear colleague, that the real generals would be the station-masters?”