"Sacrilege!"
Last night, the Prefect had thought the same. But he had then added "Impossible!" and now it seemed that the girl's mother did not agree with him. Could ambition carry a woman through such a slough as this? did she really mean to gain imperial favour by such a sacrifice?
For a moment or two the Prefect was lost in a dream; then he suddenly recovered himself.
"Pardon—and you say that Madame de Sainfoy accepted—"
"She thanked me for the honour," said the General, a little stiffly. "She expressed herself favourably. She only asked me to have patience till she could consult her husband. Between ourselves, madame knows that I could be of use to her at Court."
"Could you?"
"Certainly, Monsieur le Préfet. My friend, the Baron de Beauclair, is an equerry to Her Majesty the Empress."
"Oh!" Evidently the Prefect knew and cared little about the Baron de Beauclair. "But, Monsieur le Général," he said, with a puzzled frown, "I am still at a loss to understand you. Your course is apparently smooth. Why do you want the help of an imperial order which, if it did no other harm, would almost certainly set Monsieur de Sainfoy against you?"
Ratoneau's dark face flushed crimson. "Mille tonnerres, Monsieur le Préfet," he growled out, "Monsieur de Sainfoy is against me already, confound him! This afternoon he sent me a letter, flatly declining my proposal for his daughter."
"Is it possible!"