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really feared: the arrest of his intermediary, Hunter, whose trial mighthave drawn him into the affair. As matters stood, and as he did not ceaseto repeat with a calm and smiling air, he had merely done what everybanking-house does when it issues stock, that is, pay the press foradvertisements and puffery, employ brokers, and reward servicesdiscreetly rendered to the enterprise. It was all a business matter, andfor him that expression summed up everything. Moreover, he played thegame of life bravely, and spoke with indignant contempt of a banker who,distracted and driven to extremities by blackmailing, had imagined thathe would bring a recent scandal to an end by killing himself: a pitifultragedy, from all the mire and blood of which the scandal had sproutedafresh with the most luxuriant and indestructible vegetation. No, no!
suicide was not the course to follow: a man ought to remain erect, andstruggle on to his very last copper, and the very end of his energy.At about nine o'clock a ringing brought Duvillard to the telephoneinstalled in his private room. And then his folly took possession of himonce more: it must be Silviane who wished to speak to him. She oftenamused herself by thus disturbing him amidst his greatest cares. No doubtshe had just returned home, realising that she had carried things too faron the previous evening and desiring to be forgiven. However, when hefound that the call was from Monferrand, who wished him to go to theministry, he shivered slightly, like a man saved from the abyss besidewhich he is travelling. And forthwith he called for his hat and stick,desirous as he was of walking and reflecting in the open air. And againhe became absorbed in the intricacies of the scandalous business whichwas about to stir all Paris and the legislature. Kill himself! ah, no,that would be foolish and cowardly. A gust of terror might be sweepingpast; nevertheless, for his part he felt quite firm, superior to events,and resolved to defend himself without relinquishing aught of his power.As soon as he entered the ante-rooms of the ministry he realised that thegust of terror was becoming a tempest. The publication of the terriblelist in the "Voix du Peuple" had chilled the guilty ones to the heart;and, pale and distracted, feeling the ground give way beneath them, theyhad come to take counsel of Monferrand, who, they hoped, might save them.The first whom Duvillard perceived was Duthil, looking extremelyfeverish, biting his moustaches, and constantly making grimaces in hisefforts to force a smile. The banker scolded him for coming, saying thatit was a great mistake to have done so, particularly with such a scaredface. The deputy, however, his spirits already cheered by these roughwords, began to defend himself, declaring that he had not even readSagnier's article, and had simply come to recommend a lady friend to theMinister. Thereupon the Baron undertook this business for him and senthim away with the wish that he might spend a merry mid-Lent. However, theone who most roused Duvillard's pity was Chaigneux, whose figure swayedabout as if bent by the weight of his long equine head, and who looked soshabby and untidy that one might have taken him for an old pauper. Onrecognising the banker he darted forward, and bowed to him withobsequious eagerness.
"Ah! Monsieur le Baron," said he, "how wicked some men must be! They arekilling me, I shall die of it all; and what will become of my wife, what
