‘In fact, a great change, and such an one as many people would call a change for the better, had taken place in my friend: he had grown fat, and announced a decided disposition to become what French people call a _bel homme_: that is, a very fat one. His complexion, bronzed before, was now clear white and red: there were no more political allusions in his hair, which was, on the contrary, neatly frizzed, and brushed over the forehead, shell-shape. This headdress, joined to a thin pair of whiskers, cut crescent-wise from the ear to the nose, gave my friend a regular bourgeois physiognomy, wax-doll-like: he looked a great deal too well; and, added to this, the solemnity of his prefectoral costume gave his whole appearance a pompous, well-fed look, that by no means pleased. ‘“I surprise you,” said I, “in the midst of your splendour: do you know that this costume and yonder attendants have a look excessively awful and splendid? You entered your palace just now with the air of a pasha.” ‘“You see me in uniform in honour of Monseigneur the Bishop, who has just made his diocesan visit, and whom I have just conducted to the limit of the arrondissement.” ‘“What!” said I, “you have gendarmes for guards, and dance attendance on bishops? There are no more janissaries and Jesuits, I suppose?” The sub-prefect smiled. ‘“I assure you that my gendarmes are very worthy fellows; and that among the gentlemen who compose our clergy there are some of the very best rank and talent: besides, my wife is niece to one of the vicars-general.” ‘“What have you done with that great Tasso beard that poor Armandine used to love so?” ‘“My wife does not like a beard; and you know that what is permitted to a student is not very becoming to a magistrate.” ‘I began to laugh. “Harmodius and a magistrate?--how shall I ever couple the two words together? But tell me, in your correspondences, your audiences, your sittings with village mayors and petty councils, how do you manage to remain awake?” ‘“In the commencement,” said Harmodius gravely, “it _was_ very difficult; and, in order to keep my eyes open, I used to stick pins into my legs: now, however, I am used to it; and I’m sure I don’t take more than fifty pinches of snuff at a sitting.” ‘“Ah! _à propos_ of snuff: you are near Spain here, and were always a famous smoker. Give me a cigar,--it will take away the musty odour of these piles of papers.” ‘“Impossible, my dear; I don’t smoke; my wife cannot bear a cigar.”