'Hot! Hot!'
Angéline at length found the handkerchief in Doctor Porquier's gaping pocket, where Abbé Surin had adroitly slipped it. They all laughed and considered the selection of the hiding-place a very ingenious joke.
'Bourdeu has a chance now,' said Monsieur Rastoil, taking Abbé Faujas aside. 'It is very annoying. I can't tell him so, but we sha'n't vote for him: he has compromised himself too much as an Orleanist.'
'Just look at your son Séverin!' cried Madame de Condamin, interrupting the conversation. 'What a big baby he is! He put the handkerchief under Abbé Bourrette's hat.'
Then she lowered her voice as she continued:
'By the way, I have to congratulate you, Monsieur Rastoil. I have received a letter from Paris, from a correspondent who tells me that he has seen your son's name on an official list. He will be nominated assessor to the public prosecutor at Faverolles, I believe.'
The presiding judge bowed with a flushed face. The minister had never forgiven the election of the Marquis de Lagrifoul. Since then a kind of fatality had seemed to prevent him from finding either a place for his son or husbands for his daughters. He had never uttered any complaints, but his compressed lips had often borne witness to his feelings on the matter.
'I was remarking to you,' he resumed, to conceal his emotion, 'that Bourdeu is dangerous. But he isn't a Plassans man, and he doesn't know our requirements. We might just as well re-elect the Marquis.'
'If Monsieur de Bourdeu persists in his candidature,' rejoined Abbé Faujas, 'the Republicans will poll an imposing minority, which will have a very bad effect.'
Madame de Condamin smiled. She pretended to understand nothing about politics, and slipped away while the Abbé drew the presiding judge aside to the end of the arbour, where they continued the conversation in subdued tones. As they slowly strolled back again, Monsieur Rastoil remarked: