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the ante-room with an appearance of dismay about the whole of his littlefigure, which was, as a rule, so sprightly. It was the gust of terror,still blowing, that had brought him thither."Didn't you see your friend Barroux?" the Baron asked him, somewhatpuzzled.
"Barroux? No!"
This quiet lie was equivalent to a confession of everything. Fonsegue wasso intimate with Barroux that he thee'd and thou'd him, and for ten yearshad been supporting him in his newspaper, having precisely the sameviews, the same political religion. But with a smash-up threatening, hedoubtless realised, thanks to his wonderfully keen scent, that he mustchange his friendships if he did not wish to remain under the ruinshimself. If he had, for long years, shown so much prudence and diplomaticvirtue in order to firmly establish the most dignified and respected ofParisian newspapers, it was not for the purpose of letting that newspaperbe compromised by some foolish blunder on the part of an honest man."I thought you were on bad terms with Monferrand," resumed Duvillard."What have you come here for?""Oh! my dear Baron, the director of a leading newspaper is never on badterms with anybody. He's at the country's service."In spite of his emotion, Duvillard could not help smiling. "You areright," he responded. "Besides, Monferrand is really an able man, whomone can support without fear."
At this Fonsegue began to wonder whether his anguish of mind was visible.He, who usually played the game of life so well, with his own hand underthorough control, had been terrified by the article in the "Voix duPeuple." For the first time in his career he had perpetrated a blunder,and felt that he was at the mercy of some denunciation, for withunpardonable imprudence he had written a very brief but compromisingnote. He was not anxious concerning the 50,000 francs which Barroux hadhanded him out of the 200,000 destined for the Republican press. But hetrembled lest another affair should be discovered, that of a sum of moneywhich he had received as a present. It was only on feeling the Baron'skeen glance upon him that he was able to recover some self-possession.How silly it was to lose the knack of lying and to confess things simplyby one's demeanour!
But the usher drew near and repeated that the Minister was now waitingfor the Baron; and Fonsegue went to sit down beside Abbe Froment, whom healso was astonished to find there. Pierre repeated that he had received aletter, but had no notion what the Minister might wish to say to him. Andthe quiver of his hands again revealed how feverishly impatient he was toknow what it might be. However, he could only wait, since Monferrand wasstill busy discussing such grave affairs.On seeing Duvillard enter, the Minister had stepped forward, offering hishand. However much the blast of terror might shake others, he hadretained his calmness and good-natured smile. "What an affair, eh, mydear Baron!" he exclaimed.
"It's idiotic!" plainly declared the other, with a shrug of hisshoulders. Then he sat down in the armchair vacated by Barroux, while theMinister installed himself in front of him. These two were made to
