“And this is all?” exclaimed des Lupeaulx. “All,” said Gobseck. “You agree?” asked Gigonnet. Des Lupeaulx nodded his head. “Well, then, sign this power of attorney. Within two days Baudoyer is to be nominated; within six your debts will be cleared off, and--” “And what?” asked des Lupeaulx. “We guarantee--” “Guarantee!--what?” said the secretary, more and more astonished. “Your election to the Chamber,” said Gigonnet, rising on his heels. “We have secured a majority of fifty-two farmers’ and mechanics’ votes, which will be thrown precisely as those who lend you this money dictate.” Des Lupeaulx wrung Gigonnet’s hand. “It is only such as we who never misunderstand each other,” he said; “this is what I call doing business. I’ll make you a return gift.” “Right,” said Gobseck. “What is it?” asked Gigonnet. “The cross of the Legion of honor for your imbecile of a nephew.” “Good,” said Gigonnet, “I see you know him well.” The pair took leave of des Lupeaulx, who conducted them to the staircase. “They must be secret envoys from foreign powers,” whispered the footmen to each other. Once in the street, the two usurers looked at each other under a street lamp and laughed. “He will owe us nine thousand francs interest a year,” said Gigonnet; “that property doesn’t bring him in five.” “He is under our thumb for a long time,” said Gobseck. “He’ll build; he’ll commit extravagancies,” continued Gigonnet; “Falleix will get his land.” “His interest is only to be made deputy; the old fox laughs at the rest,” said Gobseck. “Hey! hey!” “Hi! hi!” These dry little exclamations served as a laugh to the two old men, who took their way back (always on foot) to the Cafe Themis. Des Lupeaulx returned to the salon and found Madame Rabourdin sailing with the wind of success, and very charming; while his Excellency, usually so gloomy, showed a smooth and gracious countenance. “She performs miracles,” thought des Lupeaulx. “What a wonderfully clever woman! I must get to the bottom of her heart.” “Your little lady is decidedly handsome,” said the Marquise to the secretary; “now if she only had your name.” “Yes, her defect is that she is the daughter of an auctioneer. She will fail for want of birth,” replied des Lupeaulx, with a cold manner that contrasted strangely with the ardor of his remarks about Madame Rabourdin not half an hour earlier. The marquise looked at him fixedly. “The glance you gave them did not escape me,” she said, motioning towards the minister and Madame Rabourdin; “it pierced the mask of your spectacles. How amusing you both are, to quarrel over that bone!” As the marquise turned to leave the room the minister joined her and escorted her to the door. “Well,” said des Lupeaulx to Madame Rabourdin, “what do you think of his Excellency?”