Boissel raised his hand. "I swear that if—" The door opened once more, and a dapper little man wearing the side-whiskers of an officer of marine or lawyer, and a high, stiff collar, who spoke his words rapidly as though he could not take the time to finish what he had to say, entered quickly with a preoccupied manner. He shook hands all around with the air of a man who had no leisure for dallying, and approaching the chief-clerk said: "My dear Cachelin, will you give me the Chapelou papers, rope yarn, Toulon A. T. V., 1875?"
The clerk rose, reached for a portfolio above his head, took out a package of sealed documents wrapped in blue linen, and presenting them said: "There, M. Lesable; you remember the chief took three dispatches from their package yesterday."
"Yes, I have them. Thanks," and the young man went out hurriedly.
Hardly had he gone when Maze ejaculated:
"Well! what an air! One would swear he was already chief."
And Pitolet replied: "Patience, patience; he will be before any of us."
M. Cachelin had not resumed his writing. A fixed thought seemed to have taken possession of him. At last he said: "He has a fine future, that boy!"
But Maze murmured in a disdainful tone: "For those who think the ministry is a career—yes. For the others it is a little—"
Pitolet interrupted him: "Perhaps you intend to become ambassador?"
The other made an impatient gesture. "It is not a question of me. I can take care of myself. That has nothing to do with the fact that the position of the head of a department will never be anything very much."