“I should like to see Mme. la Presidente for a few moments, mademoiselle,” Fraisier said in bland accents; “I have come on a matter of business which touches her fortune; it is a question of a legacy, be sure to mention that. I have not the honor of being known to Mme. la Presidente, so my name is of no consequence. I am not in the habit of leaving my chambers, but I know the respect that is due to a President’s wife, and I took the trouble of coming myself to save all possible delay.” The matter thus broached, when repeated and amplified by the waiting-maid, naturally brought a favorable answer. It was a decisive moment for the double ambition hidden in Fraisier’s mind. Bold as a petty provincial attorney, sharp, rough-spoken, and curt as he was, he felt as captains feel before the decisive battle of a campaign. As he went into the little drawing-room where Amelie was waiting for him, he felt a slight perspiration breaking out upon his forehead and down his back. Every sudorific hitherto employed had failed to produce this result upon a skin which horrible diseases had left impervious. “Even if I fail to make my fortune,” said he to himself, “I shall recover. Poulain said that if I could only perspire I should recover.” The Presidente came forward in her morning gown. “Madame--” said Fraisier, stopping short to bow with the humility by which officials recognize the superior rank of the person whom they address. “Take a seat, monsieur,” said the Presidente. She saw at a glance that this was a man of law. “Mme. la Presidente, if I take the liberty of calling your attention to a matter which concerns M. le President, it is because I am sure that M. de Marville, occupying, as he does, a high position, would leave matters to take their natural course, and so lose seven or eight hundred thousand francs, a sum which ladies (who, in my opinion, have a far better understanding of private business than the best of magistrates)--a sum which ladies, I repeat, would by no means despise--” “You spoke of a legacy,” interrupted the lady, dazzled by the wealth, and anxious to hide her surprise. Amelie de Marville, like an impatient novel-reader, wanted the end of the story. “Yes, madame, a legacy that you are like to lose; yes, to lose altogether; but I can, that is, I _could_, recover it for you, if--” “Speak out, monsieur.” Mme. de Marville spoke frigidly, scanning Fraisier as she spoke with a sagacious eye. “Madame, your eminent capacity is known to me; I was once at Mantes. M. Leboeuf, President of the Tribunal, is acquainted with M. de Marville, and can answer inquiries about me--” The Presidente’s shrug was so ruthlessly significant, that Fraisier was compelled to make short work of his parenthetic discourse. “So distinguished a woman will at once understand why I speak of myself in the first place. It is the shortest way to the property.”