lear, concise, rapid summary of their labors of the past
fortnight, in which they found their ideas so well expressed that they
had great difficulty in recognizing them. Then, when two or three among
them suggested that the report was too favorable, that he glided too
lightly over certain protests that had reached the committee, the maker
of the report spoke with surprising assurance, with the prolixity and
exuberance of men of his province, proved that a deputy should not be
held responsible beyond a certain point for the imprudence of his
electoral agents, that otherwise no election would stand against an
investigation that was at all minute; and as, in reality, he was
pleading his own cause, he displayed an irresistible warmth and
conviction, taking care to let fly from time to time one of the long
meaningless substantives with a thousand claws, of the sort that the
committee liked.

The others listened, deep in thought, exchanging their impressions by
nods of the head, drawing flourishes and faces on their blotting-pads
the better to fix their attention; a detail that harmonized with the
schoolboy-like noise in the corridors, a muttering as of lessons being
recited, and the flocks of sparrows chirping under the windows in a
flagged courtyard surrounded by arches, a veritable school-yard. The
report adopted, they sent for M. Sarigue to make some supplementary
explanations. He appeared, pale-faced, abashed, stammering like a
criminal before conviction, and you would have laughed to see the
patronizing, authoritative air with which Jansoulet encouraged and
reassured him: "Be calm, my dear colleague." But the members of the
eighth committee did not laugh. They were all, or almost all, of the
Sarigue species, two or three being absolutely nerveless, afflicted with
partial loss of the power of speech. Such self-assurance, such eloquence
had aroused their enthusiasm.

When Jansoulet left the Corps Legislatif, escorted to his carriage by
his grateful colleague, it was about six o'clock. The superb weather, a
gorgeous sunset over by the Trocadero, across the Seine, which shone
like burnished gold, tempted that robust plebeian, whom the conventional
proprieties of his position compelled to ride in a carriage and to wear
gloves, but who dispensed with them as often as possible, to return on
foot. He sent away his servants, and started across Pont de la Concorde,
his leather satchel under his arm. He had known no such feeling