“We will talk of all this, you and I,” said des Lupeaulx, with whom Rabourdin, much to his surprise, now found himself alone.  “Don’t be angry with Dutocq; I’ll answer for his discretion.”

“Madame Rabourdin is charming,” said the minister’s wife, wishing to say the civil thing to the head of a bureau.

The children all gazed at Rabourdin with curiosity.  The poor man had come there expecting some serious, even solemn, result, and he was like a great fish caught in the threads of a flimsy net; he struggled with himself.

“Madame la comtesse is very good,” he said.

“Shall I not have the pleasure of seeing Madame here some Wednesday?” said the countess.  “Pray bring her; it will give me pleasure.”

“Madame Rabourdin herself receives on Wednesdays,” interrupted des Lupeaulx, who knew the empty civility of an invitation to the official Wednesdays; “but since you are so kind as to wish for her, you will soon give one of your private parties, and—­”

The countess rose with some irritation.

“You are the master of my ceremonies,” she said to des Lupeaulx, —­ambiguous words, by which she expressed the annoyance she felt with the secretary for presuming to interfere with her private parties, to which she admitted only a select few.  She left the room without bowing to Rabourdin, who remained alone with des Lupeaulx; the latter was twisting in his fingers the confidential letter to the minister which Rabourdin had intrusted to La Briere.  Rabourdin recognized it.

“You have never really known me,” said des Lupeaulx.  “Friday evening we will come to a full understanding.  Just now I must go and receive callers; his Excellency saddles me with that burden when he has other matters to attend to.  But I repeat, Rabourdin, don’t worry yourself; you have nothing to fear.”

Rabourdin walked slowly through the corridors, amazed and confounded by this singular turn of events.  He had expected Dutocq to denounce him, and found he had not been mistaken; des Lupeaulx had certainly seen the document which judged him so severely, and yet des Lupeaulx was fawning on his judge!  It was all incomprehensible.  Men of upright minds are often at a loss to understand complicated intrigues, and Rabourdin was lost in a maze of conjecture without being able to discover the object of the game which the secretary was playing.

“Either he has not read the part about himself, or he loves my wife.”

Such were the two thoughts to which his mind arrived as he crossed the courtyard; for the glance he had intercepted the night before between des Lupeaulx and Celestine came back to his memory like a flash of lightning.

CHAPTER VI

The worms at work