ached the Nabob with schemes of reform. But
the Nabob's face, at the first word, would assume the bored expression
of weak natures when they have to make a decision, or he would perhaps
reply: "But that is Paris, my dear boy. Don't get frightened or
interfere with my plans. I know what I am doing and what I want."

At that time he wanted two things: a deputyship and the cross of the
Legion of Honour. These were for him the first two stages of the great
ascent to which his ambition pushed him. Deputy he would certainly be
through the influence of the Territorial Bank, at the head of which he
stood. Paganetti of Porto-Vecchio was often saying it to him: "When the
day arrives, the island will rise and vote for you as one man."

It is not enough, however, to control electors; it is necessary also
that there be a seat vacant in the Chamber, and the representation of
Corsica was complete. One of its members, however, the old Popolusca,
infirm and in no condition to do his work, might perhaps, upon certain
conditions, be willing to resign his seat. It was a difficult matter to
negotiate, but quite feasible, the old fellow having a numerous family,
estates which produced little or nothing, a palace in ruins at Bastia,
where his children lived on _polenta_, and a furnished apartment at
Paris in an eighteenth-rate lodging-house. If a hundred or two hundred
thousand francs were not a consideration, one ought to be able to
obtain a favourable decision from this honourable pauper who, sounded
by Paganetti, would say neither yes nor no, tempted by the large sum
of money, held back by the vainglory of his position. The matter had
reached that point, it might be decided from one day to another.

As for the cross, things were going still better. The Bethlehem Society
had assuredly made the devil of a noise at the Tuileries. They were now
only waiting until after the visit of M. de la Perriere and his report,
which could not be other than favorable, before inscribing on the list
for the 16th March, on the date of an imperial anniversary, the glorious
name of Jansoulet. The 16th March; that was to say, within a month. What
would the fat Hemerlingue find to say of this signal favour, he who for
so long had had to content himself with the Nisham? And the Bey, who had
been misled into believing that Jansoulet was cut by Parisian society,
and the old mother, down yonder at Saint-Romans, ever so happy in
the successes of her son! Was that not