ve, my brother," quoth the Duchesse decisively, "I'll wait
and hear what M. le prefet has to say. The news--if news there be--is
too interesting to be kept waiting for me."

And accustomed as she was to get her own way in everything, Mme. la
Duchesse calmly sailed back into the room, and once more sat down in the
chair beside her brother's bureau, whilst Hector with as much grandeur
of mien as he could assume under the circumstances was still waiting for
orders.

M. le Comte would undoubtedly have preferred that his sister should
leave the room before the prefet was shown in: he did not approve of
women taking part in political conversations, and his manner now plainly
showed to Mme. la Duchesse that he would like to receive M. le prefet
alone. But he said nothing--probably because he knew that words would be
useless if Madame had made up her mind to remain, which she evidently
had, so, after a brief pause, he said curtly to Hector:

"Show M. le prefet in."

He took up his favourite position, in his throne-shaped chair--one leg
bent, the other stretched out, displaying to advantage the shapely calf
and well-shod foot. M. le prefet Fourier, mathematician of great renown,
and member of the Institut was one of those converted Bonapartists to
whom it behoved at all times to teach a lesson of decorum and dignity.

And certainly when, presently Hector showed M. Fourier in, the two
men--the aristocrat of the old regime and the bureaucrat of the
new--presented a marked and curious contrast. M. le Comte de Cambray
calm, unperturbed, slightly supercilious, in a studied attitude and
moving with pompous deliberation to greet his guest, and Jacques
Fourier, man of science and prefet of the Isere department, short of
stature, scant of breath, flurried and florid!

Both men were conscious of the contrast, and M. Fourier did his very
best to approach Mme. la Duchesse with a semblance of dignity, and to
kiss her hand in something of the approved courtly manner. When he had
finally sat down, and mopped his streaming forehead, M. le Comte said
with kindly condescension:

"You are perturbed, my good M. Fourier!"

"Alas, M. le Comte," replied the worthy prefet, still somewhat out of
breath, "how can I help being agitated . . . this awful news! . . ."

"What news?" queried the Comte with a lifting of the brows, which was
meant to convey complete detachment and indifference to the subject
matter.

"What news?" exclaimed the prefet