Madame Rabourdin listened in amazement to this singular profession of rascality. The apparent artlessness of this political swindler prevented her from suspecting a trick. “Do you believe he really thinks of me?” she asked, falling into the trap. “I know it; I am certain of it.” “Is it true that Rabourdin’s appointment is signed?” “I gave him the papers this morning. But it is not enough that your husband should be made director; he must be Master of petitions.” “Yes,” she said. “Well, then, go back to the salon and coquette a little more with his Excellency.” “It is true,” she said, “that I never fully understood you till to-night. There is nothing commonplace about /you/.” “We will be two old friends,” said des Lupeaulx, “and suppress all tender nonsense and tormenting love; we will take things as they did under the Regency. Ah! they had plenty of wit and wisdom in those days!” “You are really strong; you deserve my admiration,” she said, smiling, and holding out her hand to him, “one does more for one’s friend, you know, than for one’s--” She left him without finishing her sentence. “Dear creature!” thought des Lupeaulx, as he saw her approach the minister, “des Lupeaulx has no longer the slightest remorse in turning against you. To-morrow evening when you offer me a cup of tea, you will be offering me a thing I no longer care for. All is over. Ah! when a man is forty years of age women may take pains to catch him, but they won’t love him.” He looked himself over in a mirror, admitting honestly that though he did very well as a politician he was a wreck on the shores of Cythera. At the same moment Madame Rabourdin was gathering herself together for a becoming exit. She wished to make a last graceful impression on the minds of all, and she succeeded. Contrary to the usual custom in society, every one cried out as soon as she was gone, “What a charming woman!” and the minister himself took her to the outer door. “I am quite sure you will think of me to-morrow,” he said, alluding to the appointment. “There are so few high functionaries who have agreeable wives,” remarked his Excellency on re-entering the room, “that I am very well satisfied with our new acquisition.” “Don’t you think her a little overpowering?” said des Lupeaulx with a piqued air. The women present all exchanged expressive glances; the rivalry between the minister and his secretary amused them and instigated one of those pretty little comedies which Parisian women play so well. They excited and led on his Excellency and des Lupeaulx by a series of comments on Madame Rabourdin: one thought her too studied in manner, too eager to appear clever; another compared the graces of the middle classes with the manners of high life, while des Lupeaulx defended his pretended mistress as we all defend an enemy in society.