He knew that, as far as the Duc de Brécé was concerned, he, with his French name and his Roman title, was still Gutenberg, the Jew. He also realized the power of his millions, and he knew more upon this subject than will ever be grasped by peoples or their rulers. So he was neither deluded nor discouraged. He took in the situation accurately, for he was clear-headed. True the anti-Jewish campaign had been conducted with the utmost vehemence in agricultural districts like his own, which contained no Jews, but a large number of clergy. Recent events and the newspaper articles had been a great strain upon the feeble head of the Duc de Brécé, the leader of the Catholic party in his Department. Doubtless, the Bonmonts were of the same way of thinking as the grandsons of _émigrés_, and were as full of Royalist devotion and quite as zealous Catholics as himself. But the Duke could not forget their origin--he was a simple, obstinate man, and young Bonmont was well aware of this. He reviewed the situation once again in front of the Dubos-Laquille motor omnibus, and came to the conclusion that the best way of obtaining the de Brécé badge was to procure the bishop’s crozier for M. l’Abbé Guitrel. “I must have him nominated,” he reflected. “It is absolutely necessary. It will be easy enough once I know how to set about it.” And, full of regret, he added, “Father would have advised me in the matter if he had lived. He must have made more than one bishop in Gambetta’s time.” Although he was not quick at generalisation, he went on to remind himself that anything could be bought for money, a thought which imbued him with great confidence in the success of his enterprise. Reflecting thus, he looked up and saw young Gustave Dellion a little in front of him, looking at a yellow-wheeled car. Dellion caught sight of Bonmont at the same moment, but pretending he had not seen him, he beat a retreat behind the body of the vehicle. He was under long-standing financial obligations to Bonmont, and, for the present, was in no way prepared to discharge them. The mere sight of his friend’s blue eye gave him a hollow feeling in the pit of his stomach, for it was Bonmont’s habit to stare silently and terribly at those of his friends who owed him money. Dellion knew all about that, and was much surprised when the little bull, as he termed him, joined him in his retreat between the canvas wall of the tent and the yellow-wheeled car, holding out a friendly hand, and saying with a pleasant smile: “How are you? Nice car! A bit long in the body, but not so bad, is it? That’s what you want for Valcombe, my dear Gustave. Yes, indeed! There’s a pretty puff-puff that would rip along nicely between Valcombe and Montil.”