"Messieurs," said the stout Mollot, smiling, "the debate is beginning;
give your attention to the orator; and let him explain himself."

"In all transitional epochs, Messieurs," continued Simon, gravely,
"and we are now in such an epoch--"

"Ba-a-a! ba-a-a!" bleated a friend of Achille Pigoult, who possessed
the faculty (precious at elections) of ventriloquism.

A roar of laughter came from the whole assembly, who were Champagnards
before all else. Simon Giguet folded his arms and waited till the
tumult subsided.

"If it was intended to give me a lesson," he resumed, "and to tell me
that I belong to the flock of the glorious defenders of the rights of
humanity, the flock of the immortal priest who pleads for dying
Poland, the daring pamphleteers, the scrutinizers of the civil test,
the philosophers who demand sincerity in the working of our
institutions, if that was the intention of my nameless interrupter, I
thank him. To me, progress is the realization of all that was promised
to us by the revolution of July; it is electoral reform, it is--"

"What! are you a democrat?" said Achille Pigoult.

"No," replied the candidate. "To desire the legitimate and regular
development of our institutions, is that being a democrat? To me,
progress is fraternity re-established between the members of the great
French family. We cannot conceal from ourselves that many
sufferings--"