he had come to announce privately that in a
few days he should be compelled to resign. Thus forewarned, the minister
would be able to open his batteries for the new election before those of
the opposition.

The minister, or to speak correctly, des Lupeaulx had invited to dinner
on this occasion one of those irremovable officials who, as we have
said, are to be found in every ministry; an individual much embarrassed
by his own person, who, in his desire to maintain a dignified
appearance, was standing erect and rigid on his two legs, held well
together like the Greek hermae. This functionary waited near the
fireplace to thank the secretary, whose abrupt and unexpected departure
from the room disconcerted him at the moment when he was about to turn
a compliment. This official was the cashier of the ministry, the only
clerk who did not tremble when the government changed hands.

At the time of which we write, the Chamber did not meddle shabbily with
the budget, as it does in the deplorable days in which we now live; it
did not contemptibly reduce ministerial emoluments, nor save, as they
say in the kitchen, the candle-ends; on the contrary, it granted to each
minister taking charge of a public department an indemnity, called an
"outfit." It costs, alas, as much to enter on the duties of a minister
as to retire from them; indeed, the entrance involves expenses of all
kinds which it is quite impossible to inventory. This indemnity amounted
to the pretty little sum of twenty-five thousand francs. When the
appointment of a new minister was gazetted in the "Moniteur," and the
greater or lesser officials, clustering round the stoves or before the
fireplaces and shaking in their shoes, asked themselves: "What will he
do? will he increase the number of clerks? will he dismiss two to make
room for three?" the cashier tranquilly took out twenty-five clean
bank-bills and pinned them together with a satisfied expression on
his beadle face. The next day he mounted the private staircase and
had himself ushered into the minister's presence by the lackeys, who
considered the money and the keeper of money, the contents and the
container, the idea and the form, as one and the same power. The cashier
caught the ministerial pair at the dawn of official delight, when the
newly appointed statesman is benign and affable. To the minister's
inquiry as to what brings him there, he replies with the
bank-notes,--informing his Excellency that he hast