'Oh, come in, Monsieur Bouchard, come in!' he cried, 'I was just going to call for you.' Bouchard, who had been appointed head of department a week previously, had brought with him a memorandum about the mayors and prefects who had asked for the crosses of chevalier and officer in the Legion of Honour. Rougon had twenty-five crosses to dispose of among the most meritorious of the applicants. He took the memorandum, read over the names and consulted various papers, while M. Bouchard went up to the fire and shook hands with the three others. Then, with his back against the mantelpiece, and his coat-tails raised in order that he might warm his legs, the chief of department said: 'A miserably wet day, isn't it? We shall have a late spring.' 'It's awful,' replied the colonel, 'I feel one of my attacks coming on. I had shooting pains in my left foot all night.' 'And how is your wife?' asked M. Kahn after a short pause. 'Thank you, she is very well,' replied M. Bouchard. 'I am expecting to see her here this morning.' Then there was another pause. Rougon was still examining the papers. As he came to a certain name, he stopped. 'Isidore Gaudibert--that isn't the man who writes verses, is it?' 'Yes, that is the man,' M. Bouchard answered. 'He has been Mayor of Barbeville since 1852. On every happy event, the Emperor's marriage, the Empress's confinement, and the Prince Imperial's baptism, he has sent charming verses to their Majesties.' The minister pouted scornfully. The colonel, however, asserted that he had read the odes and thought them very fine. He referred to one in particular, in which the Emperor was compared to a piece of fireworks. Then without any transition the friends began to eulogise the Emperor. They were all enthusiastic Bonapartists now. The two cousins, the colonel and M. Bouchard, were completely reconciled, and, instead of throwing the Orleans Princes and the Count de Chambord at each other's head, rivalled in singing their sovereign's praise. 'Oh, no! not this one!' Rougon suddenly exclaimed. 'This Jusselin is a creature of Marsy's. There is no call for me to reward the friends of my predecessor.' Then with a stroke of his pen, that cut through the paper, he effaced the name. 'But we must find some one,' he resumed. 'It is an officer's cross.' The friends sat perfectly still. M. d'Escorailles, notwithstanding his extreme youth, had received the chevalier's cross a week previously. M. Kahn and M. Bouchard were already officers, and the colonel had just been named commander. 'Well, let us see: an officer's cross,' said Rougon, beginning to refer to his papers again. But he stopped short as if struck by a sudden idea. 'Aren't you mayor of some place or other, Monsieur Béjuin?' he inquired. M. Béjuin contented himself with nodding twice, but M. Kahn answered more fully for him. 'Yes,' said he; 'he is Mayor of Saint Florent, the little commune where his glass works are.'