When he paid the upholsterer, the latter seemed to wear a cunning smile.
On finding himself again outside, he felt a sensation of relief; being cold, he was inclined to walk with a view to warming his chill blood.
On hearing his name spoken by some one, he turned round and perceived before him his compatriot Jéliotte, the friend of his childhood, the comrade, who, with a smile, cordially extended his hands toward him.
"I told you that you would always find me when I should not appear before you as a courtier! Well, then, here I am," said Jéliotte. "Now you may see me as much as you please!"
"Ah!" said Vaudrey.
Jéliotte took his arm.
"Probably you are going to the Chamber?"
"Yes, exactly."
"Well, I will accompany you!—Ah, since you are no longer minister, my dear friend, and that one does not appear to be a flatterer or a seeker of patronage, one can speak to you—You have faults enough!—You are too confident, too moderate—It is necessary to have a firm hand—And then that could not last. Those situations are all very fine but they are too easily destroyed!—They are like glass, my old friend!—A place is wanted for everybody, is it not?—Bah! must I tell you?—Why, you are happier! I like you better as it is!"
Vaudrey felt strongly inclined to shake off this pretentious ninny who was clinging to his arm.