sot's article, which you won't insert."

Thereupon, the director of the "Globe" plumply declared that he could not
insert the article. He talked of his paper's dignity and gravity; and
declared that the lavishing of such fulsome praise upon a hussy--yes, a
mere hussy, in a journal whose exemplary morality and austerity had cost
him so much labour, would seem monstrous and degrading. Personally, he
did not care a fig about it if Silviane chose to make an exhibition of
herself, well, he would be there to see; but the "Globe" was sacred.

Disconcerted and almost tearful, Chaigneux nevertheless renewed his
attempt. "Come, my dear colleague," said he, "pray make a little effort
for my sake. If the article isn't inserted, Duvillard will think that it
is my fault. And you know that I really need his help. My eldest
daughter's marriage has again been postponed, and I hardly know where to
turn." Then perceiving that his own misfortunes in no wise touched
Fonsegue, he added: "And do it for your own sake, my dear colleague, your
own sake. For when all is said Duvillard knows what is in the article,
and it is precisely because it is so favourable a one that he wishes to
see it in the 'Globe.' Think it over; if the article isn't published, he
will certainly turn his back on you."

For a moment Fonsegue remained silent. Was he thinking of the colossal
Trans-Saharan enterprise? Was he reflecting that it would be hard to
quarrel at such a moment and miss his own share in the coming
distribution of millions among faithful friends? Perhaps so; however, the
idea that it would be more prudent to await developments gained the day
with him. "No, no," he said, "I can't, it's a matter of conscience."

In the mean time congratulations were still being tendered to the newly
wedded couple. It seemed as if all Paris were passing through the
sacristy; there were ever the same smiles and the same hand shakes.
Gerard, Camille and their relatives, however weary they might feel, were
forced to retain an air of delight while they stood there against the
wall, pent up by the crowd. The heat was now becoming unbearable, and a
cloud of dust arose as when some big flock goes by.

All at once little Princess de Harn, who had hitherto lingered nobody
knew where, sprang out of the throng, flung her arms around Camille,
kissed even Eve, and then kept Gerard's hand in her own while paying him
extraordinary compliments. Then, on perceiving Hyacinthe, she took