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She suddenly straightened herself under this anxiety, reassured, moreover, and spurred on as she was by the Dujarrier herself, who said as she shrugged her shoulders: "When a woman like you has a man like Vaudrey, a minister, she has her nest lined." Sulpice was not the man long to resist so refined a Parisienne as Marianne.
And he sat down in the salon like a man spreading himself out in his own house. Marianne was meditating some scheme to get rid of him when the chamber-maid entered, presenting a note on a tray. "What is that?" "A messenger, madame, has brought this letter." Marianne read the paper hurriedly. Vaudrey observed that she blushed slightly. "Is the messenger still there, Justine?"
As he spoke, the chimes sounded midnight. "Do you hear? After twelve o'clock, no one ever leaves Bel-Air!" For answer de Vaudrey dashed aside the extended wand, escorted the kidnapped girl to the foot of the staircase. De Praille was upon them again. This time he drew his sword. Fascinated, the courtiers and their women companions watched the outcome.
He had risen, Vaudrey had taken his hat, and he said to the minister, leaning on his arm, with gentle familiarity, as he led him to the door: "Power is like a kite, but there is always some rascal who holds the thread." "Come, come," said Vaudrey, "you are a pessimist!" "I confess that Schopenhauer is not unpleasant to me sometimes."
These words, which implied so much, stung the noble-hearted de Vaudrey more than any words of anger or reproach could have done. "There is nothing in my life to hide," he said proudly but impatiently, "nothing for which I have reason to blush." "Are you sure of that, Chevalier?" asked the Count, in a tone that plainly said the speaker knew differently.
He still looked at her, leaning over her with the appearance of a madman. "Vaudrey? Vaudrey? The man whom I saw at your uncle's? The man whom I have elbowed with you? Vaudrey? This man was your lover, then?" She was so alarmed that she did not reply. "You have lied to me, then? But, tell me, wretched woman, have you not lied to me?" "I loved you and I desired you!" said Marianne.
In the course of his troublesome reflections concerning the Gochard paper, Vaudrey persistently thought of that fat, powerful man who laughed and harangued in a loud voice in the greenroom of the ballet, as he patted with his fat fingers the delicate chin of Marie Launay. Why! if he were willing, this Molina Molina the Tumbler! for him it is a mere bagatelle, a hundred thousand francs!
Sabine had just before very naturally brought these two together and instinctively, as if they had to exchange many confidences, they had immediately sought a retired spot away from that crowd and were seated there in that salon where Vaudrey, already half-jealous, guessed that Marianne would be.
"No, I was thinking of something else," replied Vaudrey, who really was thinking of Marianne. Madame Vaudrey had not left Madame Gerson's salon before that pretty little Parisian whispered imprudently enough in the ear of a female friend: "Our ministers' wives are always from Carpentras, Pont-
"Selika is cold beside you," said Lissac as he disappeared through the open doorway, "I will bring you your minister in ten minutes." Sabine waited nervously. The curtain had just fallen on the third act. The manager's box was empty. Guy would doubtless be obliged to rejoin Vaudrey, and neither the minister nor his friend would be seen again. Just then some one knocked at the door of the box.
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