eezed　round　the　approaches　of　the　station；　thought　they　saw　his　Highness　somewhere　amid　the　gorgeous　trappings；　and　as　soon　as　the　wheels　started　an　immense　clamour；　a　frightful　bawling；　which　had　been　hatching　for　an　hour　in　all　those　breasts；　burst　out；　rose；　rolled；　rebounded　from　side　to　side　and　prolonged　itself　in　the　valley。　〃Hurrah；　hurrah　for　the　Bey！〃　This　was　the　signal　for　the　first　bands　to　begin；　the　choral　societies　started　in　their　turn；　and　the　noise　growing　step　by　step；　the　road　from　Giffas　to　Saint…Romans　was　nothing　but　an　uninterrupted　bellow。　Cardailhac　and　all　the　gentlemen；　Jansoulet　himself；　leant　in　vain　out　of　the　windows　making　desperate　signs；　〃That　will　do！　That's　enough！〃　Their　gestures　were　lost　in　the　tumult　and　the　darkness；　what　the　crowd　did　see　seemed　to　act　only　as　an　excitant。　And　I　promise　you　there　was　no　need　of　that。　All　these　meridionals；　whose　enthusiasm　had　been　carefully　led　since　early　morning；　excited　the　more　by　the　long　wait　and　the　storm；　shouted　with　all　the　force　of　their　voices　and　the　strength　of　their　lungs；　mingling　with　the　song　of　Provence　the　cry　of　〃Hurrah　for　the　Bey！〃　till　it　seemed　a　perpetual　chorus。　Most　of　them　had　no　idea　what　a　Bey　was；　did　not　even　think　about　it。　They　accentuated　the　appellation　in　an　extraordinary　manner　as　though　it　had　three　b's　and　ten　y's。　But　it　made　no　difference；　they　excited　themselves　with　the　cry；　holding　up　their　hands；　waving　their　hats；　becoming　agitated　as　a　result　of　their　own　activity。　Women　wept　and　rubbed　their　eyes。　Suddenly；　from　the　top　of　an　elm；　the　shrill　voice　of　a　child　made　itself　heard：　〃Mamma；　mammaI　see　him！〃　He　saw　him！　They　all　saw　him；　for　that　matter！　Now　even；　they　will　all　swear　to　you　they　saw　him！
  Confronted　by　such　a　delirium；　in　the　impossibility　of　imposing　silence　and　calm　on　such　a　crowd；　there　was　only　one　thing　for　the　people　in　the　carriages　to　do：　to　leave　them　alone；　pull　up　the　windows　and　dash　along　at　full　speed。　It　would　at　least　shorten　a　bitter　martyrdom。　But　this　was　even　worse。　Seeing　the　procession　hurrying；　all　the　road　began　to　gallop　with　it。　To　the　dull　booming　of　their　tambourines　the　dancers　from　Barbantane；　hand　in　hand；　spranga　living　garlandround　the　carriage　doors。　The　choral　societies；　breathless　with　singing　as　they　ran；　but　singing　all　the　same；　dragged　on　their　standard…bearers；　the　banners　now　hanging　over　their　shoulders；　and　the　good；　fat　priests；　red　and　panting；　shoving　their　vast　overworked　bellies　before　them；　still　found　strength　to　shout　into　the　very　ear　of　the　mules；　in　an　unctuous；　effusive　voice；　〃Long　live　our　noble　Bey！〃　The　rain　on　all　this；　the　rain　falling　in　buckets；　discolouring　the　pink　coaches；　precipitating　the　disorder；　giving　the　appearance　of　a　rout　to　this　triumphal　return；　but　a　comic　rout；　mingled　with　songs　and　laughs；　mad　embraces；　and　infernal　oaths。　It　was　something　like　the　return　of　a　religious　procession　flying　before　a　storm；　cassocks　turned　up；　surplices　over　heads；　and　the　Blessed　Sacrament　put　back　in　all　haste；　under　a　porch。
  The　dull　roll　of　the　wheels　over　the　wooden　bridge　told　the　poor　Nabob；　motionless　and　silent　in　a　corner　of　his　carriage；　that　they　were　almost　there。　〃At　last！〃　he　said；　looking　through　the　clouded　windows　at　the　foaming　waters　of　the　Rhone；　whose　tempestuous　rush　seemed　calm　after　what　he　had　just　suffered。　But　at　the　end　of　the　bridge；　when　the　first　carriage　reached　the　great　triumphal　arch；　rockets　went　off；　drums　beat；　saluting　the　monarch　as　he　entered　the　estates　of　his　faithful　subject。　To　crown　the　irony；　in　the　gathering　darkness　a　gigantic　flare　of　gas　suddenly　illuminated　the　roof　of　the　castle；　and　in　spite　of　the　wind　and　the　rain；　these　fiery　letters　could　still　be　seen　very　plainly；　〃Long　liv'　th'　B'Y　'HMED！〃
  〃Thatthat　is　the　wind…up；〃　said　the　poor　Nabob；　who　could　not　help　laughing；　though　it　was　a　very　piteous　and　bitter　laugh。　But　no；　he　was　mistaken。　The　end　was　the　bouquet　waiting　at　the　castle　door。　Amy　Ferat　came　to　present　it；　leaving　the　group　of　country　maidens　under　the　veranda；　where　they　were　trying　to　shelter　the　shining　silks　of　their　skirts　and　the　embroidered　velvets　of　their　caps　as　they　waited　for　the　first　carriage。　Her　bunch　of　flowers　in　her　hand；　modest；　her　eyes　downcast；　but　showing　a　roguish　leg；　the　pretty　actress　sprang　forward　to　the　door　in　a　low　courtesy；　almost　on　her　knees；　a　pose　she　had　worked　at　for　a　week。　Instead　of　the　Bey；　Jansoulet　got　out；　stiff　and　troubled；　and　passed　without　even　seeing　her。　And　as　she　stayed　there；　bouquet　in　hand；　with　the　silly　look　of　a　stage　fairy　who　has　missed　her　cue；　Cardailhac　said　to　her　with　the　ready　chaff　of　the　Parisian　who　is　never　at　a　loss：　〃Take　away　your　flowers；　my　dear。　The　Bey　is　not　coming。　He　had　forgotten　his　handkerchief；　and　as　it　is　only　with　that　he　speaks　to　ladies；　you　understand〃
  Now　it　is　night。　Everything　is　asleep　at　Saint…Romans　after　the　tremendous　uproar　of　the　day。　Torrents　of　rain　continue　to　fall；　and　in　the　park；　where　the　triumphal　arches　and　the　Venetian　masts　still　lift　vaguely　their　soaking　carcasses；　one　can　hear　streams　rushing　down　the　slopes　transformed　into　waterfalls。　Everything　streams　or　drips。　A　noise　of　water；　an　immense　noise　of　water。　Alone　in　his　sumptuous　room；　with　its　lordly　bed　all　hung　with　purple　silks；　the　Nabob　is　still　awake；　turning　over　his　own　black　thoughts　as　he　strides　to　and　fro。　It　is　not　the　affront；　that　public　outrage　before　all　these　people；　that　occupies　him；　it　is　not　even　the　gross　insult　the　Bey　had　flung　at　him　in　the　presence　of　his　mortal　enemies。　No；　this　southerner；　whose　sensations　were　all　physical　and　as　rapid　as　the　firing　of　new　guns；　had　already　thrown　off　the　venom　of　his　rancour。　And　then；　court　favourites；　by　famous　examples；　are　always　prepared　for　these　sudden　falls。　What　terrifies　him　is　that　which　he　guesses　to　lie　behind　this　affront。　He　reflects　that　all　his　possessions　are　over　there；　firms；　counting…houses；　ships；　all　at　the　mercy　of　the　Bey；　in　that　lawless　East；　that　country　of　the　ruler's　good…pleasure。　Pressing　his　burning　brow　to　the　streaming　windows；　his　body　in　a　cold　sweat；　his　hands　icy；　he　remains　looking　vaguely　out　into　the　night；　as　dark；　as　obscure　as　his　own　future。
  Suddenly　a　noise　of　footsteps；　of　precipitate　knocks　at　the　door。
  〃Who　is　there？〃
  〃Sir；〃　said　Noel；　coming　in　half　dressed；　〃it　is　a　very　urgent　telegram　that　has　been　sent　from　the　post…office　by　special　messenger。〃
  〃A　telegram！　What　can　there　be　now？〃
  He　takes　the　envelope　and　opens　it　with　shaking　fingers。　The　god；　struck　twice　already；　begins　to　feel　himself　vulnerable；　to　know　the　fears；　the　nervous　weakness　of　other　men。　Quickto　the　signature。　MORA！　Is　it　possible？　The　dukethe　duke　to　him！　Yes；　it　is　indeed　M…O…R…A。　And　above　it：　〃Popolasca　is　dead。　Election　coming　in　Corsica。　You　are　official　candidate。〃
  Deputy！　It　was　salvation。　With　that；　nothing　to　fear。　No　one　dares　treat　a　representative　of　the　great　French　nation　as　a　mere　swindler。　The　Hemerlingues　were　finely　defeated。
  〃Oh；　my　duke；　my　noble　duke！〃
  He　was　so　full　of　emotion　that　he　could　not　sign　his　name。　Suddenly：　〃Where　is　the　man　who　brought　this　telegram？〃
  〃Here；　M。　Jansoulet；〃　replied　a　jolly　south…country　voice　from　the　corridor。
  He　was　lucky；　that　postman。
  〃Come　in；〃　said　the　Nabob。　And　giving　him　the　receipt；　he　took　in　a　heap　from　his　pocketsever　fullas　many　gold　pieces　as　his　hands　could　hold；　and　threw　them　into　the　cap　of　the　poor　fellow；　who　stuttered；　distracted　and　dazzled　by　the　fortune　showered　upon　him；　in　the　night　of　this　fairy　palace。
  A　CORSICAN　ELECTION
  Pozzonegronear　Sartene。
  At　last　I　can　give　you　my　news；　dear　M。　Joyeuse。　During　the　five　days　we　have　been　in　Corsica　we　have　rushed　about　so　much；　made　so　many　speeches；　so　often　changed　carriages　and　mountsnow　on　mules；　now　on　asses；　or　even　on　the　backs　of　men　for　crossing　the　torrentswritten　so　many　letters；　noted　so　many　requests；　visited　so　many　schools；　presented　chasubles；　altar…cloths；　renewed　cracked　bells；　and　founded　kindergartens；　we　have　inaugurated　so　many　things；　proposed　so　many　toasts；　listened　to　so　many　harangues；　consumed　so　much　Talano　wine　and　white　cheese；　that　I　have　not　found　time　to　send　even　a　greeting　to　the　little　family　circle　round　the　big　table；　from　which　I　have　been　missing　these　two　months。　Happily　my　absence　will　not　be　for　much　longer；　as　we　expect　to　leave　the　day　after　to…morrow；　and　are　coming　straight　back　to　Paris。　From　the　electioneering　point　of　view；　I　think　our　journey　has　been　a　success。　Corsica　is　an　admirable　country；　indolent　and　poor；　a　mixture　of　poverty　and　pride；　which　makes　both　the　nobles　and　the　middle　classes　strive　to　keep　up　an　appearance　of　easy　circumstances　at　the　price　of　the　most　painful　privations。　They　speak　quite　seriously　of　Popolasca's　fortunethat　needy　deputy　whom　death　robbed　of　the　four　thousand　pounds　his　resignation　in　favour　of　the　Nabob　would　have　brought　him。　All　these　people　have；　as　well；　an　administrative　mania；　a　thirst　for　places　which　give　them　any　sort　of　uniform；　and　a　cap　to　wear　with　the　words　〃Government　official〃　written　on　it。　If　you　gave　a　Corsican　peasant　the　choice