This power of suggesting was a wonderful thing, truly. A word had been enough to set the whole machinery going. If he rightly understood that _Tout va bien_, it meant that the Prefect was ready at once to do his part. That seemed a little strange; but after all, De Mauves would not have reached his present position without some cleverness to help him, and no doubt he saw, as Urbain did, the excellence of this arrangement for everybody all round. Hervé de Sainfoy was really foolish; his own enemy: Urbain and Adélaïde were his friends; they knew how to make use of the mammon of unrighteousness. The advantages of such a connection with the Empire were really uncountable. Urbain was quite sure that he was justified in plotting against Hervé for his good. Did he not love him like a brother? Would he not have given him the last penny in his purse, the last crust if they were starving? And as for misleading Anne a little, that too seemed right to his conscience. It was only a case of economising truth, after all. In the end, the Ratoneau connection would be useful in saving Joseph and his friends, no doubt, from some of the consequences of their foolishness. It was with the serenity of success and conscious virtue, deepened and brightened by the joy of pleasing the beautiful Adélaïde, that Urbain, finding her alone, put the General's letter into her hand. There was an almost vulture look in the fair face as she stooped over it. "Ah--and what does this mean?" "It means," Urbain said, "that General Ratoneau has seen the Prefect, and that that excellent man is ready to oblige him--and you, madame." "Me?" Adélaïde looked up sharply, with a sudden flush. "I hope you gave no message from me." "How could I? you sent none. I am to be trusted, I assure you. I simply hinted that if the affair could be managed from outside, you would not be too much displeased." "Nor would you," she said. "No--no, I should not." He spoke rather slowly, stroking his face, looking at her thoughtfully. This pale passion of eagerness was not becoming, somehow, to his admired Adélaïde. "Nor would you," she repeated. "Come, Urbain, be frank. You know it is necessary, from your point of view, that Hélène should be married soon. You know that silly boy of yours fancies himself in love with her." "It would not be unnatural. All France might do the same. But pardon me, I do not know it." "You mean that he has not confided in you. Well, well, do not lay hold of my words; you had eyes the night before last; you saw what I saw, what every one must have seen. You confessed as much to me yesterday, so do not contradict yourself now." "Very well--yes!" Urbain smiled and bowed. "Let us agree that my poor boy may have such a fancy. But what does it matter?"