In country towns these little things are remarked. The Abbe de
Grancey's fine and clever head was to be seen moving from group to
group, listening to everything, seeming to be apart from it all, but
uttering those incisive phrases which sum up a question and direct the
issue.
"If the Elder Branch were to return," said he to an old statesman of
seventy, "what politicians would they find?"--"Berryer, alone on his
bench, does not know which way to turn; if he had sixty votes, he
would often scotch the wheels of the Government and upset Ministries!"
--"The Duc de Fitz-James is to be nominated at Toulouse."--"You will
enable Monsieur de Watteville to win his lawsuit."--"If you vote for
Monsieur Savarus, the Republicans will vote with you rather than with
the Moderates!" etc., etc.
At nine o'clock Albert had not arrived. Madame de Watteville was
disposed to regard such delay as an impertinence.
"My dear Baroness," said Madame de Chavoncourt, "do not let such
serious issues turn on such a trifle. The varnish on his boots is not
dry--or a consultation, perhaps, detains Monsieur de Savarus."
Rosalie shot a side glance at Madame de Chavoncourt.
"She is very lenient to Monsieur de Savarus," she whispered to her
mother.
"You see," said the Baroness with a smile, "there is a question of a
marriage between Sidonie and Monsieur de Savarus."
Mademoiselle de Watteville hastily went to a window looking out over
the garden.
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