"I have advised my Duke not to listen to the rabble," said Joseph, as he readjusted the set of his cravat. "A Ministry responsible to the Parliaments! Ridiculous, I say!"
"I understand, though," here interposed M. Achille, "that the Parliaments, out of deference for His Majesty are willing that the King himself shall appoint this new Comptroller of Finance."
"The King, my good Eglinton," calmly retorted M. Joseph—"the King will leave this matter to us. You may take it from me that we shall appoint this new Minister, and an extremely pleasant post it will be. Comptroller of Finance! All the taxes to pass through the Minister's hands! Par Dieu! does it not open out a wide field for an ambitious man?"
"Hem! hem!" coughed M. Bénédict again.
"You seem to be suffering from a cold, sir," said M. Joseph irritably.
"Not in the least," rejoined Bénédict hastily—"a slight tickling in the throat. You were saying, M. Joseph, that you hoped this new appointment would fall within your sphere of influence."
"Nay! If you doubt me, my good Stainville——" And M. Joseph rose with slow and solemn majesty from the divan, where he had been reclining, and walking across the room with a measured step, he reached an escritoire whereon ink and pens, letters tied up in bundles, loose papers, and all the usual paraphernalia commonly found on the desk of a busy man. M. Joseph sat down at the table and rang a handbell.
The next moment a young footman entered, silent and deferential.
"Is any one in the ante-room, Paul?" asked Joseph.
"Yes, M. Joseph."