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"Ah!" muttered Massot, who had remained near Duthil, "how amused old

Justus Steinberger would be, if he were here to see his granddaughter

marrying the last of the Quinsacs!"

"But these marriages are quite the thing, quite the fashion, my dear

fellow," the deputy replied. "The Jews and the Christians, the

_bourgeois_ and the nobles, do quite right to come to an understanding,

so as to found a new aristocracy. An aristocracy is needed, you know, for

otherwise we should be swept away by the masses."

None the less Massot continued sneering at the idea of what a grimace

Justus Steinberger would have made if he had heard Monseigneur Martha. It

was rumoured in Paris that although the old Jew banker had ceased all

intercourse with his daughter Eve since her conversion, he took a keen

interest in everything she was reported to do or say, as if he were more

than ever convinced that she would prove an avenging and dissolving agent

among those Christians, whose destruction was asserted to be the dream of

his race. If he had failed in his hope of overcoming Duvillard by giving

her to him as a wife, he doubtless now consoled himself with thinking of

the extraordinary fortune to which his blood had attained, by mingling

with that of the harsh, old-time masters of his race, to whose corruption

it gave a finishing touch. Therein perhaps lay that final Jewish conquest

of the world of which people sometimes talked.

A last triumphal strain from the organ brought the ceremony to an end;

whereupon the two families and the witnesses passed into the sacristy,

where the acts were signed. And forthwith the great congratulatory

procession commenced.

The bride and bridegroom at last stood side by side in the lofty but

rather dim room, panelled with oak. How radiant with delight was Camille

at the thought that it was all over, that she had triumphed and married

that handsome man of high lineage, after wresting him with so much

difficulty from one and all, her mother especially! She seemed to have

grown taller. Deformed, swarthy, and ugly though she was, she drew

herself up exultingly, whilst scores and scores of women, friends or

acquaintances, scrambled and rushed upon her, pressing her hands or

kissing her, and addressing her in words of ecstasy. Gerard, who rose

both head and shoulders above his bride, and looked all the nobler and

stronger beside one of such puny figure, shook hands and smiled like some

Prince Charming, who good-naturedly allowed himself to be loved.

Meanwhile, the relatives of the newly wedded pair, though they were drawn

up in one line, formed two distinct groups past which the crowd pushed

and surged with arms outstretched. Duvillard received the congratulations

offered him as if he were some king well pleased with his people; whilst

Eve, with a supreme effort, put on an enchanting mien, and answered one

and all with scarcely a sign of the sobs which she was forcing back.

Then, on the other side of the bridal pair, Madame de Quinsac stood

between General de Bozonnet and the Marquis de Morigny. Very dignified,

in fact almost haughty, she acknowledged most of the salutations

addressed to her with a mere nod, giving her little withered hand only to

those people with whom she was well acquainted. A sea of strange

countenances encompassed her, and now and again when some particularly

murky wave rolled by, a wave of men whose faces bespoke all the crimes of

money-mongering, she and the Marquis exchanged glances of deep sadness.

This tide continued sweeping by for nearly half an hour; and such was the

number of those who wanted to shake hands with the bridal pair and their

relatives, that the latter soon felt their arms ache.

Meantime, some folks lingered in the sacristy; little groups collected,

and gay chatter rang out. Monferrand was immediately surrounded. Massot

pointed out to Duthil how eagerly Public Prosecutor Lehmann rushed upon

the Minister to pay him court. They were immediately joined by

investigating magistrate Amadieu. And even M. de Larombiere, the judge,

approached Monferrand, although he hated the Republic, and was an

intimate friend of the Quinsacs. But then obedience and obsequiousness

were necessary on the part of the magistracy, for it was dependent on

those in power, who alone could give advancement, and appoint even as

they dismissed. As for Lehmann, it was alleged that he had rendered

assistance to Monferrand by spiriting away certain documents connected

with the African Railways affair, whilst with regard to the smiling and

extremely Parisian Amadieu, was it not to him that the government was

indebted for Salvat's head?

"You know," muttered Massot, "they've all come to be thanked for

guillotining that man yesterday. Monferrand owes that wretched fellow a

fine taper; for in the first place his bomb prolonged the life of the

Barroux ministry, and later on it made Monferrand prime minister, as a

strong-handed man was particularly needed to strangle Anarchism. What a

contest, eh? Monferrand on one side and Salvat on the other. It was all

bound to end in a head being cut off; one was wanted.... Ah! just

listen, they are talking of it."

This was true. As the three functionaries of the law drew near to pay

their respects to the all-powerful Minister, they were questioned by lady

friends whose curiosity had been roused by what they had read in the

newspapers. Thereupon Amadieu, whom duty had taken to the execution, and

who was proud of his own importance, and determined to destroy what he

called "the legend of Salvat's heroic death," declared that the scoundrel

had shown no true courage at all. His pride alone had kept him on his

feet. Fright had so shaken and choked him that he had virtually been dead

before the fall of the knife.

"Ah! that's true!" cried Duthil. "I was there myself."

Massot, however, pulled him by the arm, quite indignant at such an

assertion, although as a rule he cared a rap for nothing. "You couldn't

see anything, my dear fellow," said he; "Salvat died very bravely. It's

really stupid to continue throwing mud at that poor devil even when he's

dead."

However, the idea that Salvat had died like a coward was too pleasing a

one to be rejected. It was, so to say, a last sacrifice deposited at

Monferrand's feet with the object of propitiating him. He still smiled in

his peaceful way, like a good-natured man who is stern only when

necessity requires it. And he showed great amiability towards the three

judicial functionaries, and thanked them for the bravery with which they

had accomplished their painful duty to the very end. On the previous day,

after the execution, he had obtained a formidable majority in the Chamber

on a somewhat delicate matter of policy. Order reigned, said he, and all

was for the very best in France. Then, on seeing Vignon--who like a cool

gamester had made a point of attending the wedding in order to show

people that he was superior to fortune--the Minister detained him, and

made much of him, partly as a matter of tactics, for in spite of

everything he could not help fearing that the future might belong to that

young fellow, who showed himself so intelligent and cautious. When a

mutual friend informed them that Barroux' health was now so bad that the

doctors had given him up as lost, they both began to express their

compassion. Poor Barroux! He had never recovered from that vote of the

Chamber which had overthrown him. He had been sinking from day to day,

stricken to the heart by his country's ingratitude, dying of that

abominable charge of money-mongering and thieving; he who was so upright

and so loyal, who had devoted his whole life to the Republic! But then,

as Monferrand repeated, one should never confess. The public can't

understand such a thing.

At this moment Duvillard, in some degree relinquishing his paternal

duties, came to join the others, and the Minister then had to share the

honours of triumph with him. For was not this banker the master? Was he

not money personified--money, which is the only stable, everlasting

force, far above all ephemeral tenure of power, such as attaches to those

ministerial portfolios which pass so rapidly from hand to hand?

Monferrand reigned, but he would pass away, and a like fate would some

day fall on Vignon, who had already had a warning that one could not

govern unless the millions of the financial world were on one's side. So

was not the only real triumpher himself, the Baron--he who laid out five

millions of francs on buying a scion of the aristocracy for his daughter,

he who was the personification of the sovereign _bourgeoisie_, who

controlled public fortune, and was determined to part with nothing, even

were he attacked with bombs? All these festivities really centred in

himself, he alone sat down to the banquet, leaving merely the crumbs from

his table to the lowly, those wretched toilers who had been so cleverly

duped at the time of the Revolution.

That African Railways affair was already but so much ancient history,

buried, spirited away by a parliamentary commission. All who had been

compromised in it, the Duthils, the Chaigneux, the Fonsegues and others,

could now laugh merrily. They had been delivered from their nightmare by

Monferrand's strong fist, and raised by Duvillard's triumph. Even

Sagnier's ignoble article and miry revelations in the "Voix du Peuple"

were of no real account, and could be treated with a shrug of the

shoulders, for the public had been so saturated with denunciation and

slander that it was now utterly weary of all noisy scandal. The only

thing which aroused interest was the rumour that Duvillard's big affair

of the Trans-Saharan Railway was soon to be launched, that millions of

money would be handled, and that some of them would rain down upon

faithful friends.

Whilst Duvillard was conversing in a friendly way with Monferrand and

Dauvergne, the Minister of Public Instruction, who had joined them,

Massot encountered Fonsegue, his editor, and said to him in an undertone:

"Duthil has just assured me that the Trans-Saharan business is ready, and

that they mean to chance it with the Chamber. They declare that they are

certain of success."

Fonsegue, however, was sceptical on the point. "It's impossible," said

he; "they won't dare to begin again so soon."

Although he spoke in this fashion, the news had made him grave. He had

lately had such a terrible fright through his imprudence in the African

Railways affair, that he had vowed he would take every precaution in

future. Still, this did not mean that he would refuse to participate in

matters of business. The best course was to wait and study them, and then

secure a share in all that seemed profitable. In the present instance he

felt somewhat worried. However, whilst he stood there watching the group

around Duvillard and the two ministers, he suddenly perceived Chaigneux,

who, flitting hither and thither, was still beating up applauders for

that evening's performance. He sang Silviane's praises in every key,

predicted a most tremendous success, and did his very best to stimulate

curiosity. At last he approached Dauvergne, and with his long figure bent

double exclaimed: "My dear Minister, I have a particular request to make

to you on the part of a very charming person, whose victory will not be

complete this evening if you do not condescend to favour her with your

vote."

Dauvergne, a tall, fair, good-looking man, whose blue eyes smiled behind

his glasses, listened to Chaigneux with an affable air. He was proving a

great success at the Ministry of Public Instruction, although he knew

nothing of University matters. However, like a real Parisian of Dijon, as

people called him, he was possessed of some tact and skill, gave

entertainments at which his young and charming wife outshone all others,

and passed as being quite an enlightened friend of writers and artists.

Silviane's engagement at the Comedie, which so far was his most notable

achievement, and which would have shaken the position of any other

minister, had by a curious chance rendered him popular. It was regarded

as something original and amusing.

On understanding that Chaigneux simply wished to make sure of his

presence at the Comedie that evening, he became yet more affable. "Why,

certainly, I shall be there, my dear deputy," he replied. "When one has

such a charming god-daughter one mustn't forsake her in a moment of

danger."

At this Monferrand, who had been lending ear, turned round. "And tell

her," said he, "that I shall be there, too. She may therefore rely on

having two more friends in the house."

Thereupon Duvillard, quite enraptured, his eyes glistening with emotion

and gratitude, bowed to the two ministers as if they had granted him some

never-to-be-forgotten favour.

When Chaigneux, on his side also, had returned thanks with a low bow, he

happened to perceive Fonsegue, and forthwith he darted towards him and

led him aside. "Ah! my dear colleague," he declared, "it is absolutely

necessary that this matter should be settled. I regard it as of supreme

importance."

"What are you speaking of?" inquired Fonsegue, much surprised.

"Why, of Massot'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