To this request Gustave replied by a stupefied silence and a startled look, not that he intended to refuse, but because he had not grasped the situation. Young Bonmont had to repeat the same words twice over, and to explain that Loyer was Minister of Public Worship and nominated the bishops. He was very patient, and little by little Gustave understood what was required of him; he even managed to repeat what he had heard without making a single mistake: “You want me to tell Madame de Gromance to go and ask Loyer, who is Minister of Public Worship, to make Guitrel a bishop?” “Bishop of Tourcoing.” “Tourcoing! Is that in France?” “Of course.” “Ah!” said Gustave thoughtfully, and he fell into a reverie. Serious objections came to him, and, at the risk of appearing disobliging, he would mention them. It seemed to him that the request entailed a good deal, and he did not want to enter upon it lightly. Timidly and hesitatingly he formulated his first objection, which was a natural one. “It isn’t a trick, is it?” he asked. “What do you mean by a trick?” said Bonmont shortly. “No, really,” protested Gustave, “you aren’t pulling my leg?” He was still in doubt, but the contemptuous look of the little fair man dispersed all doubt. With great firmness and decision he declared: “As long as I know it is a serious matter, you can rely upon me. I can be serious when necessary.” He was silent awhile, and the difficulties confronting him again rose in his mind. Gently and timidly he said: “Do you think that Madame de Gromance knows the minister well enough to ask such a--a--favour? Because, you know, she never mentions Loyer to me.” “And that,” replied the little Baron, “is probably because she has other subjects to discuss with you. I don’t mean that she is keen on Loyer, but she thinks him a good old sort, and no fool. They got to know each other three years ago on the platform at the unveiling of the statue to Jeanne d’Arc. Loyer would be only too delighted to do anything to please Madame de Gromance, and I can assure you he isn’t a bad sort. When he puts on his best coat he looks like a retired fencing-master. She can go and see him all right, he will be quite nice to her--and he will most certainly do her no harm!” “In that case,” said Gustave, “she is to ask him to make Guitrel a bishop.” “Yes.” “Bishop of where did you say?” “Bishop of Tourcoing,” repeated young Bonmont. “I’d better write it down for you.” Picking up from a table before him the trade card of the builder of the “Reine des Pygmées,” he wrote upon it with his little gold pencil, “Make Guitrel Bishop of Tourcoing.” Gustave took the card, and the idea which at first had appeared to him so strange and weird now seemed a simple and natural one. His mind had grown accustomed to it, and as he put the card in his pocket he repeated in the glibbest way: “Make Guitrel Bishop of Tourcoing. Right you are! You can rely on me.”