The small Italian cabinet, that contained Marianne's letter, had had its drawers turned over, like pockets turned inside out. Marianne's letter to Lissac, the scrap of paper which the police hunted, without knowing whose will they were obeying, that confession of a crazy mistress to a lover who was smitten to his very bones, was no longer there. "Ah! I will see Vaudrey! I will see him and tell him!" said Lissac aloud. "Will monsieur breakfast?" "Yes, as quickly as possible. Two eggs and tea, I am in a hurry." He was anxious to rush off to the ministry. Was the Chamber sitting to-day? No. He would perhaps then find Sulpice at his first call. The messengers knew him. He speedily hastened to Place Breda, looking for a carriage. On the way, he stumbled against a man who came down on the same side, smoking a cigar. "Oh! Monsieur de Lissac!" Guy instinctively stepped back one pace; he recognized Uncle Kayser. Then, suddenly, his anger, which up to that time he had been able to restrain, burst forth, and in a few words energetic and rapid, he told Simon, who remained bewildered and somewhat pale, as if one had tried to force a quarrel on him, what he thought of Marianne's infamy. The uncle said nothing, regretted that he had met Lissac, and contented himself with stammering from time to time: "She has done that?--What! she has done that?--Ah! the rogue." "And what do you say about it, you, Simon Kayser?" "I?--What do I say about it?--Why--" Little by little he recovered his sang-froid, looking at matters from the lofty heights of his artist's philosophy. "It is rather too strong. What do you want?--It is not even moral, but it has _character!_ And in art, after the moral idea comes _character!_ Ah! bless me! character, that is something!--Otherwise, I disapprove. It is brutal, vulgar, that lack of ideal. I defy you to symbolize that. _Love Avenging Itself Against Love_--_Jealousy Calling the Police to Its Aid in Order to Triumph over Dead Love!_ It is old, it lacks originality, it smacks of Prud'hon!--The Correggio of the decollete!--It is like Tassaert, it is of the sprightly kind!--I would never paint so, that is what I say about it!" Guy had no reply for this imperturbable moralist and he regretted that he had lost time in speaking to him. But his uncontrollable rage choked him. Enough remained however to show all his feelings to Vaudrey. The minister was not in his cabinet. A messenger asked Lissac if he would speak to Monsieur Warcolier, the Under Secretary of State. "I, I," then said a man who rose from the chair in which he had been sitting in the antechamber, "I should be glad to see Monsieur Warcolier--Monsieur Eugene, you know." "Very well, Monsieur Eugene, I will announce you." Lissac explained that his visit was not official, he called on a personal matter. "Is the minister in his apartments?" "Yes, monsieur, but to-day, you know--"