"You look back on history, my dear brother," remarked Madame drily, "and you'll see that more great events have been brought about by chivalry and romance than by prudence and circumspection. The romance of Joan of Arc delivered France from foreign yoke, the chivalry of François I. saved the honour of France after the disaster of Pavie, and it certainly was not prudence which set Henry of Navarre upon the throne of France and in the heart of his people. So for gracious' sake do not let us talk of prudence any more. Rather let us allow M. le préfet to return quietly to the Hôtel de Ville, so that he and Mme. Fourier may proceed to dress for to-night's ceremony, just as if nothing untoward had happened. In the meanwhile I will complete my preparations for Tuesday. There are one or two little details in connection with my journey--hostelries, servants, horses and so on--which you, my dear André, will kindly decide for me. And now, gentlemen," she added, rising from her chair, "I have the honour to wish you both a very good afternoon." She did not wait long enough to allow M. le Comte time to ring for Hector, and she appeared so busy with her lace shawl that she was unable to do more than acknowledge with a slight inclination of the head M. le préfet's respectful salute. But then Mme. la Duchesse douairière d'Agen--though a fervent royalist herself--had a wholesome contempt for these opportunists. Fourier, celebrated mathematician, loaded with gifts and honours by Napoleon, who had made him a member of the Institute of Science and given him the prefecture of the Isère, had turned his coat very readily at the Restoration, and the oaths of loyalty which he had tendered to the Emperor seemed not to weigh overheavily upon his conscience when he reiterated them to the King. Mme. la Duchesse d'Agen, therefore, did not willingly place her aristocratic fingers in the hand of a renegade, who she felt might turn renegade again if his personal interest so dictated it. Perhaps something of what lay behind Madame's curt nod to him, struck the préfet's sensibilities, for the high colour suddenly fled from his round face, and he did not attempt to approach her for the ceremonial hand-kissing. But he ran across the room as fast as his short legs would carry him, and he opened the door for her and bowed to her as she sailed past him with all the deference which in the olden days of the Empire he had accorded to the Empress Marie Louise. "It is a mad scheme, my good M. Fourier," sighed the Comte when he found himself once more alone with the préfet, "but such as it is I can think of nothing better." "M. le Comte," exclaimed the préfet with delight, "no one could think of anything better. Ah, the women of France!" he added ecstatically, "the women! how often have they saved France in moments of crises? France owes her grandeur to her women, M. le Comte!" "And also her reverses, my dear M. Fourier," remarked the Comte drily. II