ion, and
more especially to M. de Villele, if I am to interest myself on your
behalf to obtain the favor."

Petit-Claud came nearer. "Madame," he said in her ear, "I am the man to
yield the King absolute obedience."

"That is just what _we_ want to-day," said the Countess, drawing back
a little to make him understand that she had no wish for promises given
under his breath. "So long as you satisfy Mme. de Senonches, you can
count upon me," she added, with a royal movement of her fan.

Petit-Claud looked toward the door of the boudoir, and saw Cointet
standing there. "Madame," he said, "Lucien is here, in Angouleme."

"Well, sir?" asked the Countess, in tones that would have put an end to
all power of speech in an ordinary man.

"Mme. la Comtesse does not understand," returned Petit-Claud, bringing
out that most respectful formula again. "How does Mme. la Comtesse wish
that the great man of her making should be received in Angouleme? There
is no middle course; he must be received or despised here."

This was a dilemma to which Louise de Negrepelisse had never given a
thought; it touched her closely, yet rather for the sake of the past
than of the future. And as for Petit-Claud, his plan for arresting David
Sechard depended upon the lady's actual feelings towards Lucien. He
waited.

"M. Petit-Claud," said the Countess, with haughty dignity, "you mean
to be on the side of the Government. Learn that the first principle
of government is this--never to have been in the wrong, and that the
instinct of power and the sense of dignity is even stronger in women
than in governments."

"That is just what I thought, madame," he answered quickly, observing
the Countess meanwhile with attention the more profound because it was
scarcely visible. "Lucien came here in the depths of misery. But if
he must receive an ovation, I can compel him to leave Angouleme by
the means of the ovation itself. His sister and brother-in-law, David
Sechard, are hard pressed for debts."

In the Countess' haughty face there was a swift, barely perceptible
change; it was not satisfaction, but the repression of satisfaction.
Surprised that Petit-Claud should have guessed her wishes, she gave him
a glance as she opened her fan, and Francoise de la Haye's entrance at
that moment gave her time to find an answer.

"It will not be long before you are public prosecutor, monsieur," she
said, with a significant smile. That speech did not commit her in any