“Come, come,” said Maxime, “you are a serious man now, a legislator! As for me, the mere meddling in electoral matters in the interests of other people has sobered me.”
“Did you say you went to Arcis-sur-Aube to hinder the election of that stone-cutter?”
“Not at all; I went there to throw myself in the way of the election of a Left-centre candidate.”
“Pah! the Left, pure and simple, is hardly worse. But take a cigar; these are excellent. The princes smoke them.”
The colonel rose and rang the bell, saying to the servant when he came, “A light!”
The cigars lighted, Monsieur de Trailles endeavored to prevent another interruption by declaring before he was questioned that he had never smoked anything more exquisite. Comfortably ensconced in his arm-chair, the colonel seemed to offer the hope of a less fugacious attention, and Monsieur de Trailles resumed:—
“All went well at first. To crush the candidate the ministry wanted to be rid of,—a lawyer, and the worst sort of cad,—I unearthed a stocking-maker, a fearful fool, whom I persuaded to offer himself as candidate. The worthy man was convinced that he belonged to the dynastic opposition. That is the opinion which, for the time being, prevails in that region. The election, thanks to me, was as good as made; and, our man once in Paris, the great Seducer in the Tuileries had only to say five words to him, and this dynastic opposer could have been turned inside out like one of this own stockings, and made to do whatever was wanted of him.”
“Pretty well played that!” said the colonel. “I recognize my Maxime.”
“You will recognize him still farther when he tells you that he was able, without recourse to perquisites, to make his own little profit out of the affair. In order to graft a little parliamentary ambition upon my vegetable, I addressed myself to his wife,—a rather appetizing provincial, though past her prime.”
“Yes, yes, I see; very good!” said Franchessini; “husband made deputy—satisfied—shut his mouth.”