We are saddled
with a public prosecutor who talks goody, and rhodomontades
nonsense about the management. It is impossible to get the
black-chokered pump to hold his tongue. If the War Minister allows
civilians to feed out of his hand, I am done for. I can trust the
bearer; try to get him promoted; he has done us good service. Do
not abandon me to the crows!"
This letter was a thunderbolt; the Baron could read in it the
intestine warfare between civil and military authorities, which to
this day hampers the Government, and he was required to invent on the
spot some palliative for the difficulty that stared him in the face.
He desired the soldier to come back next day, dismissing him with
splendid promises of promotion, and he returned to the drawing-room.
"Good-day and good-bye, brother," said he to the Marshal.--"Good-bye,
children.--Good-bye, my dear Adeline.--And what are you going to do,
Lisbeth?" he asked.
"I?--I am going to keep house for the Marshal, for I must end my days
doing what I can for one or another of you."
"Do not leave Valerie till I have seen you again," said Hulot in his
cousin's ear.--"Good-bye, Hortense, refractory little puss; try to be
reasonable.
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