“Never mind that—never mind. I am acquainted with the whole affair. I know that, wilfully or not, they have mixed you up with another person, whom family considerations—”
The duke could not restrain a smile at the bewilderment of the Nabob, stupefied to find him so well informed.
“A Minister of State has to know everything. But don’t worry. Your election will be declared valid all the same. And once declared valid—”
Jansoulet heaved a sigh of relief.
“Ah, M. le Duc, how it cheers me to hear you speak thus! I was beginning to lose all confidence. My enemies are so powerful. And a piece of bad luck into the bargain. Do you know that it is Le Merquier himself who is charged with the report on my election?”
“Le Merquier? The devil!”
“Yes, Le Merquier, Hemerlingue’s agent, the dirty hypocrite who converted the baroness, no doubt because his religion forbade him to have a Mohammedan for a mistress.”
“Come, come, Jansoulet.”
“Well, M. le Duc? One can’t help being angry. Think of the situation in which these wretches are placing me. Here I ought to have had my election made valid a week ago, and they arrange the postponement of the sitting expressly because they know the terrible position in which I am placed—my whole fortune paralyzed, the Bey waiting for the decision of the Chamber to decide whether or not he can plunder me. I have eighty millions over there, M. le Duc, and here I begin to be short of money. If the thing goes on only a little longer—”
He wiped away the big drops of sweat that trickled down his cheeks.