office in Africa. A head-clerk in the War
Office, Monsieur Marneffe, is spoken of as likely to be appointed
to the post of director."

"The office vacated by Baron Hulot is the object of much ambition.
The appointment is promised, it is said, to Monsieur le Comte
Martial de la Roche-Hugon, Deputy, brother-in-law to Monsieur le
Comte de Rastignac. Monsieur Massol, Master of Appeals, will fill
his seat on the Council of State, and Monsieur Claude Vignon
becomes Master of Appeals."

Of all kinds of false gossip, the most dangerous for the Opposition
newspapers is the official bogus paragraph. However keen journalists
may be, they are sometimes the voluntary or involuntary dupes of the
cleverness of those who have risen from the ranks of the Press, like
Claude Vignon, to the higher realms of power. The newspaper can only be
circumvented by the journalist. It may be said, as a parody on a line by
Voltaire:

"The Paris news is never what the foolish folk believe."

Marshal Hulot drove home with his brother, who took the front seat,
respectfully leaving the whole of the back of the carriage to his
senior. The two men spoke not a word. Hector was helpless. The Marshal
was lost in thought, like a man who is collecting all his strength, and
bracing himself to bear a crushing weight. On arriving at his own house,
still without speaking, but by an imperious gesture, he beckoned his
brother into his study. The Count had received from the Emperor Napoleon
a splendid pair of pistols from the Versailles factory; he took the
box, with its inscription. "_Given by the Emperor Napoleon to General
Hulot_," out of his desk, and placing it on the top, he showed it to his
brother, saying, "There is your remedy."

Lisbeth, peeping through the chink of the door, flew down to the
carriage and ordered the coachman to go as fast as he could gallop
to the Rue Plumet. Within about twenty minutes she had brought back
Adeline, whom she had told of the Marshal's threat to his brother.

The Marshal, without looking at Hector, rang the bell for his factotum,
the old soldier who had served him for thirty years.

"Beau-Pied," said he, "fetch my notary, and Count Steinbock, and my
niece Hortense, and the stockbroker to the Treasury. It is now half-past
ten; they must all be here by twelve. Take hackney cabs--and go faster
than _that_!" he added, a republican allusion which in past days had
been often on his lips. And he put on th