One morning in the month of May, 1879, a young man, elegantly attired,
alighted from a well-appointed carriage before the door of Madame
Desvarennes's house. The young man passed quickly before the porter in
uniform, decorated with a military medal, stationed near the door. The
visitor found himself in an anteroom which communicated with several
corridors. A messenger was seated in the depth of a large armchair,
reading the newspaper, and not even lending an inattentive ear to the
whispered conversation of a dozen canvassers, who were patiently awaiting
their turn for gaining a hearing. On seeing the young man enter by the
private door, the messenger rose, dropped his newspaper on the armchair,
hastily raised his velvet skullcap, tried to smile, and made two steps
forward.

"Good-morning, old Felix," said the young man, in a friendly tone to the
messenger. "Is my aunt within?"

"Yes, Monsieur Savinien, Madame Desvarennes is in her office; but she has
been engaged for more than an hour with the Financial Secretary of the
War Department."

In uttering these words old Felix put on a mysterious and important air,
which denoted how serious the discussions going on in the adjoining room
seemed to his mind.

"You see," continued he, showing Madame Desvarennes's nephew the anteroom
full of people, "madame has kept all these waiting since this morning,
and perhaps she won't see them."

"I must see her though," murmured the young man.