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Though all success, especially if won from distant sources, seems to presuppose some genuine merit, Minard was really an inflated balloon. Expressing himself in empty phrases, mistaking sycophancy for politeness, and wordiness for wit, he uttered his commonplaces with a brisk assurance that passed for eloquence.
"The most powerful among the Huguenots have cast their eyes on me to serve them in a certain matter; if I fail to do what I have just promised to do, they will kill me in open day, here in the street, as they killed Minard. But if you send me to court on your affairs, perhaps I can justify myself equally well to both sides.
Christophe answered quietly: "What is it now?" "To fire a pistol courageously, as Stuart did on Minard." "On whom?" "The Duc de Guise." "A murder?" "A vengeance. Have you forgotten the hundred gentlemen massacred on the scaffold at Amboise? A child who saw that butchery, the little d'Aubigne cried out, 'They have slaughtered France!"
"Your kindness for me, Monsieur le maire," said Felix, hastily, "has led you astray; I was only the reader of the communication." "Oh! let me alone!" said Minard; "reader, indeed! I know all about it."
From Barbet, Minard learned that the old maid had money transactions with himself and Metivier to the amount of sixty thousand francs, besides having a large deposit in the Bank. "Has she an account at the Bank?" asked Minard. "I believe so," replied Barbet. "I give her at least eighty thousand francs there."
The latter had written a note to Thuillier in the morning, excusing himself from the dinner, but saying that at nine o'clock precisely he would bring the contract and place himself at the orders of Mademoiselle Thuillier. As for Julien Minard, his mother excused him as being confined to his room with a sore-throat.
As he ended his anathema a rap was heard on the door. "Come in!" said Thuillier, in a tone that depicted his wrath and his frantic impatience. The door opened, and Minard rushed precipitately into his arms. "My good, my excellent friend!" cried the mayor of the eleventh arrondissement, concluding his embrace with a hearty shake of the hand.
"Why should Mademoiselle Thuillier work in this way?" said Minard to Metivier. "She'd be a good match for you," he added. "I? oh, no," replied Metivier. "I shall do better by marrying a cousin; my uncle Metivier has given me the succession to his business; he has a hundred thousand francs a year and only two daughters."
"And you will doubtless permit me to add," said Minard, "that the mayor of the arrondissement adjoining that which you inhabit congratulates himself on being here in presence of Monsieur Picot, the Monsieur Picot, no doubt, who has just immortalized his name by the discovery of a star!" I don't see him here; he is hiding himself, I know; he dares not look me in the face."
"Eighteen hundred francs a year," interrupted Minard, "is certainly something, especially for savants, a class of people who are accustomed to live on very little." "I think I have heard," said la Peyrade, "that this very Monsieur Picot leads a strange life, and that his family, who at first wanted to shut him up as a lunatic, are now trying to have guardians appointed over him.
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