“Seven thousand!” cried Jean Orbideck, the confectioner of the Rue Hemling, who was on the road to a fortune by making whipped creams. “Adjudged!” exclaimed the burgomaster Van Tricasse, on finding that no one else rose on the bid. And this was how Jean Orbideck the confectioner became general-in-chief of the forces of Quiquendone. CHAPTER XII. IN WHICH YGÈNE, THE ASSISTANT, GIVES A REASONABLE PIECE OF ADVICE, WHICH IS EAGERLY REJECTED BY DOCTOR OX. “Well, master,” said Ygène next day, as he poured the pails of sulphuric acid into the troughs of the great battery. “Well,” resumed Doctor Ox, “was I not right? See to what not only the physical developments of a whole nation, but its morality, its dignity, its talents, its political sense, have come! It is only a question of molecules.” “No doubt; but—” “But—” “Do you not think that matters have gone far enough, and that these poor devils should not be excited beyond measure?” “No, no!” cried the doctor; “no! I will go on to the end!” “As you will, master; the experiment, however, seems to me conclusive, and I think it time to—” “To—” “To close the valve.” “You’d better!” cried Doctor Ox. “If you attempt it, I’ll throttle you!” CHAPTER XIII. IN WHICH IT IS ONCE MORE PROVED THAT BY TAKING HIGH GROUND ALL HUMAN LITTLENESSES MAY BE OVERLOOKED. “You say?” asked the Burgomaster Van Tricasse of the Counsellor Niklausse. “I say that this war is necessary,” replied Niklausse, firmly, “and that the time has come to avenge this insult.” “Well, I repeat to you,” replied the burgomaster, tartly, “that if the people of Quiquendone do not profit by this occasion to vindicate their rights, they will be unworthy of their name.” “And as for me, I maintain that we ought, without delay, to collect our forces and lead them to the front.” “Really, monsieur, really!” replied Van Tricasse. “And do you speak thus to _me_?” “To yourself, monsieur the burgomaster; and you shall hear the truth, unwelcome as it may be.” “And you shall hear it yourself, counsellor,” returned Van Tricasse in a passion, “for it will come better from my mouth than from yours! Yes, monsieur, yes, any delay would be dishonourable. The town of Quiquendone has waited nine hundred years for the moment to take its revenge, and whatever you may say, whether it pleases you or not, we shall march upon the enemy.” “Ah, you take it thus!” replied Niklausse harshly. “Very well, monsieur, we will march without you, if it does not please you to go.” “A burgomaster’s place is in the front rank, monsieur!” [Illustration: “A burgomaster’s place is in the front rank, monsieur!”] “And that of a counsellor also, monsieur.” “You insult me by thwarting all my wishes,” cried the burgomaster, whose fists seemed likely to hit out before long. “And you insult me equally by doubting my patriotism,” cried Niklausse, who was equally ready for a tussle.