“Because I look rather nice.” “What I mean is, why at this hour specially?” “Because it is evening. The streets are always full just before dinner-time.” “But who follows you? What sort of people?” “All sorts. Men about town, workmen and priests. Yesterday a nigger followed me. He had on a hat that shone like a mirror. He was awfully sweet.” “Did he speak to you?” “Oh, yes. He said: ‘Madame, will you go for a drive with me? Or are you afraid of losing your reputation?’” “What a silly remark!” “Some of them say much sillier things,” she answered gravely. “Adieu, _mon petit_, we’ve had a lovely time to-day.” Her hand was already on the key of the door when he stopped her. “Clotilde,” said he, “promise me you will go and see Loyer, and that you will say to him very nicely, ‘M. Loyer, you have a vacant see to dispose of. Make Abbé Guitrel bishop, you cannot do better. The Pope thinks very highly of him.’” She shook her pretty head. “Go and see Loyer for that? Can you imagine me in the cage of that old gorilla? We must make some special arrangement, meet him at some friend’s house, or something of the sort.” “But,” objected Philippe, “it’s very important. At any moment Loyer may sign the appointments now. There are several vacant sees.” She reflected a moment, and, making a special effort to think clearly, said: “You must be mistaken, _mon petit_,” said she. “It’s _not_ Loyer who appoints the bishops. It’s the Pope, really it is, or the Nuncio. I can prove that, for the other day Emmanuel said, ‘The Nuncio ought to overcome the modesty of M. de Goulet, and offer him a bishopric.’ So you see.” He tried to convince her to the contrary, taking the trouble to explain the reason why. “Listen to me! The minister chooses the bishops, and the Nuncio confirms the minister’s choice. That is what is called the Concordat. You must say to Loyer: ‘I know of an intelligent liberal-minded priest, one that the Pope thinks of very highly’----” “Yes, yes, I know!” She opened wide eyes of wonder. “It’s an extraordinary thing you are asking of me, _mon petit_!” Her amazement came from the fact that she was religious, and had the greatest veneration for holy things. He was a little less religious than she, but perhaps a trifle more scrupulous, and in his innermost self he recognized that she was right, and that it was an extraordinary thing to ask of her. But he was so anxious for the matter to be concluded that he hastened to reassure her. “I am not asking you to do anything forbidden by religion,” he protested. In the meanwhile her first curiosity had returned. “But why do you want M. Guitrel to be chosen, _mon petit_?” she asked. He answered confusedly, as he had done before: “Mother would be pleased, and other people too.” “What other people?” “Oh, heaps of them--the Bonmonts.” “The Bonmonts? But they are Jews!” “That doesn’t matter; there are Jews even among the clergy.”