them that nothing whatever ought to be left. The fat priest in the middle
of the table, who had shown himself such a capital knife-and-fork, was
now lingering over the fruit, having just got to his third peach, a huge
one, which he slowly peeled and swallowed in slices with an air of
compunction.

All at once, however, the whole room was thrown into agitation. A waiter
had come in and begun distributing the letters which Madame Majeste had
finished sorting. "Hallo!" exclaimed M. Vigneron; "a letter for me! This
is surprising--I did not give my address to anybody." Then, at a sudden
recollection, he added, "Yes I did, though; this must have come from
Sauvageot, who is filling my place at the Ministry." He opened the
letter, his hands began to tremble, and suddenly he raised a cry: "The
chief clerk is dead!"

Deeply agitated, Madame Vigneron was also unable to bridle her tongue:
"Then you will have the appointment!"

This was the secret dream in which they had so long and so fondly
indulged: the chief clerk's death, in order that he, Vigneron, assistant
chief clerk for ten years past, might at last rise to the supreme post,
the bureaucratic marshalship. And so great was his delight that he cast
aside all restraint. "Ah! the Blessed Virgin is certainly protecting me,
my dear. Only this morning I again prayed to her for a rise, and, you
see, she grants my prayer!"

However, finding Madame Chaise's eyes fixed upon his own, and seeing
Gustave smile, he realised that he ought not to exult in this fashion.
Each member of the family no doubt thought of his or her interests and
prayed to the Blessed Virgin for such personal favours as might be