This was just what Madame Cartier de Chalmot thought. She was lavishly, glaringly pious, and not free from the rather loud magnificence that was aptly accented by the sound of her voice and the flowers in her hats. Her faith, voluminous and decorative like the bosom which enshrined it, made a splendid show in drawing-rooms. By the breadth of her religious sentiments she had done much harm to her husband. But neither of them paid any heed to this. The general also believed in the Christian creed, although this would not have prevented him from having the Cardinal-Archbishop arrested on a written order from the Minister of War. Yet he was regarded with suspicion by the democracy. And the _préfet_, M. Worms-Clavelin himself, though little of a fanatic, regarded General Cartier de Chalmot as a dangerous man. This was his wife’s fault. She was ambitious, but the soul of honour and incapable of betraying her God. “How can I be your providence, monsieur l’abbé?” And when she heard that the point at issue was the raising to the bishopric of Tourcoing of Abbé Lantaigne, a man of such noble, steadfast piety, she caught fire and showed her courage. “Those are the bishops we want. M. Lantaigne ought to be nominated.” The old chaplain began to make use of this happy valiancy. “Then, madame, induce the general to write to the Minister of Religion, who turns out to be his friend.” She shook the crown of curlers on her head vigorously. “No, monsieur l’abbé. My husband will not write. It is useless to persist. He thinks that a soldier ought never to ask for anything. He is right. My father was of this opinion. You knew him, monsieur l’abbé, and you know that he was a fine man and a good soldier.” The old Army chaplain smote his forehead. “Colonel de Balny! Yes, of course, I knew him. He was a hero and a Christian.” General Cartier de Chalmot interposed: “My father-in-law, Colonel de Balny, was chiefly commendable for having mastered in their entirety the regulations of 1829 on cavalry manœuvres. These regulations were so complicated that few officers mastered them in their completeness. They were afterwards withdrawn, and Colonel de Balny conceived such a disgust at this that it hastened his end. New regulations were imposed, possessing the unquestionable advantage of simplification. Yet I question whether the old state of things was not preferable. You must exact much from a cavalryman in order to get a little out of him. It is the same with the foot-soldier.” And the general began anxiously to manipulate his division of cards drawn up in the boxes. Madame Cartier de Chalmot had heard these same words very often. She always made the same reply to them. Once more this time she said: “Poulot! how can you say that papa died of chagrin, when he fell down in an apoplectic fit at a review?” The old chaplain, by a crafty wile, brought the conversation back to the subject which interested him.