“Our great Unknown is undoubtedly an embryo railway,” said Olivier Vinet. “Well, to-morrow all Arcis will be upside-down about it,” said Achille Pigoult. “I shall call upon the Unknown and ask him to make me notary of the affair. There’ll be two thousand deeds to draw, at the least.” “Our romance is turning into a locomotive,” said Ernestine to Cecile. “A count with a railway is all the more marriageable,” remarked Achille Pigoult. “But who knows whether he is a bachelor?” “Oh! I shall know that to-morrow from grandpapa,” cried Cecile, with pretended enthusiasm. “What a jest!” said Madame Mollot. “You can’t really mean, my little Cecile, that you are thinking of that stranger?” “But the husband is always the stranger,” interposed Olivier Vinet, making a sign to Mademoiselle Beauvisage which she fully understood. “Why shouldn’t I think of him?” asked Cecile; “that isn’t compromising. Besides, he is, so these gentlemen say, either some great speculator, or some great seigneur, and either would suit me. I love Paris; and I want a house, a carriage, an opera-box, etc., in Paris.” “That’s right,” said Vinet. “When people dream, they needn’t refuse themselves anything. If I had the pleasure of being your brother I should marry you to the young Marquis de Cinq-Cygne, who seems to me a lively young scamp who will make the money dance, and will laugh at his mother’s prejudices against the actors in the famous Simeuse melodrama.” “It would be easier for you to make yourself prime-minister,” said Madame Marion. “There will never be any alliance between the granddaughter of Grevin and the Cinq-Cygnes.” “Romeo came within an ace of marrying Juliet,” remarked Achille Pigoult, “and Mademoiselle is more beautiful than--” “Oh! if you are going to quote operas and opera beauties!” said Herbelot the notary, naively, having finished his game of whist. “My legal brother,” said Achille Pigoult, “is not very strong on the history of the middle ages.” “Come, Malvina!” said the stout notary to his wife, making no reply to his young associate. “Tell me, Monsieur Antonin,” said Cecile to the sub-prefect, “you spoke of Anicette, the maid of the Princesse de Cadignan; do you know her?” “No, but Julien does; she is the goddaughter of his father, and they are good friends together.” “Then try, through Julien, to get her to live with us. Mamma wouldn’t consider wages.” “Mademoiselle, to hear is to obey, as they say to despots in Asia,” replied the sub-prefect. “Just see to what lengths I will go in order to serve you.” And he left the room to give Julien orders to go with Anicette in the chariot and coax her away from the princess at any price. XI. IN WHICH THE CANDIDATE BEGINS TO LOSE VOTES