"Well, well! my poor Jansoulet, I should say that Paris is making you pay dear for her welcome. What a tempest of scolding and hatred and bad temper!" "Ah! Monsieur le Duc, if you knew--" "I do know--I have read it all," said the minister, drawing near the fire. "I trust that your Excellency doesn't believe those infamous stories. At all events I have here--I have brought proofs." With his strong hairy hands trembling with emotion, he fumbled among the papers in an enormous portfolio that he had under his arm. "Never mind--never mind. I know all about it. I know that, purposely or not, they have confused you with another person whom family reasons--" The duke could not restrain a smile in face of the utter bewilderment of the Nabob, who was astounded to find him so well informed. "A minister of State should know everything. But never fear. Your election shall be confirmed, all the same. And when it is once confirmed--" Jansoulet drew a long breath of relief. "Ah! Monsieur le Duc, how much good you do me by talking to me thus. I was beginning to lose all my confidence. My enemies are so powerful! And on top of all the rest there's another piece of ill-luck. Le Merquier, of all people, is assigned to make the report concerning my election." "Le Merquier?--the devil!" "Yes, Le Merquier, Hemerlingue's confidential man, the vile hypocrite who converted the baroness, doubtless because his religion forbids him to have a Mohammedan for his mistress." "Fie, fie, Jansoulet!" "What can you expect, Monsieur le Duc? You lose your temper sometimes, too. Just think of the position those villains are putting me in. A week ago my election should have been confirmed, and they have postponed the meeting of the committee purposely, because they know the terrible plight I am in, with all my fortune paralyzed, and the bey waiting for the decision of the Chamber to know whether he can strip me clean or not. I have eighty millions over there, Monsieur le Duc, and here I am beginning to be in need of money. If this lasts a little longer--" He wiped away the great drops of perspiration that were rolling down his cheeks. "Very well! I will make this matter of your confirmation my business," said the minister with much animation. "I will write to What's-his-name to hurry up his report; and even if I have to be carried to the Chamber--" "Is your Excellency ill?" queried Jansoulet in a tone of deep interest, in which there was no lack of sincerity, I promise you. "No--a little weakness. We are a little short of blood; but Jenkins is going to give us a new supply. Eh, Jenkins?" The Irishman, who was not listening, made a vague gesture. "Thunder! And to think that I have too much blood!" And the Nabob loosened his cravat around his swollen neck, on the verge of apoplexy with excitement and the heat of the room. "If I could only let you have a little, Monsieur le Duc!"