The Washington herald., 1912-11-17

less person than the Baroness Sophie
Linden.
De Sartines read it with impatience,
placed it in the portfolio with the other
papers, and turned to the paper relst-
ing to the affairs of the man.
This report was quite short, tersely
written and to the point. 1t pleased
him evidently. 1t was signed la
venne, agent" and the man who was
the subject of it was no less a person
than the Comte Jean Armand de
Lussac.
Then Monsieur de Sartines, placing
this paper in the portfolio with the 9TH
ers, eXtinguished the little lamp, drew
his furs about him, and sat in the
darkness of the carriage which was
bearing him rapidly to Paris.
1t was now night, and the trees by
the roadside, dimly lighted by half
moon rising in the eastern sky, showed
up darkly against the silvery mists of
the fields.
At the toll-gate the carriage did not
stop, but passed at full speed and on
through the streets OF Paris, splashing
the passers with mud: needless of chill
dren, dogs, pedestrians who wished to
cross the way; a perfect representation
of the government whose minister it
contained. The streets through which
it was now passing we're badly lighted
by oil lamps, badly paved, filthy with
refuse and mud. narrow, and like the
streets and passages one passes through
in bad dreams. Poverty and hunger
walked here in rags, not as spectral fig
ureS, but figures OF flesh and blood.
Frightful faces were to be seen, spec
tral faces, pitiable faces, men i'll tat
tiers, women in rags. Infinite squalor !
In these poor streets all men and all
women seemed bent, like those trees
we see on sea coasts, by a bleak wind
always blowing from the same quarter,
bent and stunted by the pressure of
some heavy and chilling hand Splash
ing these with the mud of its wheels
drove the carriage of Monsieur de
Sartines, its occupant curled, scented,
dressed more gorgeously than the lilies
of the field, gazing through the win
dows on the people he passed as. Jove
might gaze on mortals.
The carriage crossed the poorer part
of the city, making for the Faubourg
OA- SCi MllClC d. NllC SdAO"dg vi
a large mansion they turned in, crossed
the courtyard and drew up at the
steps.
1t was the Hotel de Sartines.
The footman opening the door, the
of police descended, went up
the steps and passing the saluting
guards at the doorway entered the
great hall, whence he took his way by
a fight of deeply-carpeted stairs to
his official bureau on the first floor.
This room, still haunted by the shade
of Monsieur d'Ombreval, deserves a
word OF mention. Here the police-po-
litical business of the state was con-
Quoted: here the attainted noblemen,
the common forger. the suspect, the
man being prosecuted, and the man
pursued came face to face with the
man in power. From here men went
to Vincennes or the Bastile or death.
The room was octagonal, with pol
ished parquet floor; fauteuls stood
about, for it was used by the minister
as a chamber of audience as well as
an official bureau; if was lighted by
wax candles burning in silver sconces,
and opposite the door stood the famous
bureau with hundred compartments
and secret drawers. once the property
Of his predecessor. A square table, half
covered by a cloth Of green silk stood
near the bureau; on it we're some dis
patches that had just arrived and which
De Sartines examined while waiting
for the agent Gaussin, for whom he
had sent
He was standing reading, like this.
when the door opened and the agent
Gaussin was big man with a head
that made one think of the head of a
horse; he had long face and only
one expression. He was less man
Than machine.
De -Sartines turned. received his sub
ordinate's salute, and taking the report
from the small portfolio he had placed
On the bureau, said: You wrote
his"