bulent and aggressive, speaking in thunderclaps of Bergmans and the whole of the dirty common people, Dobouziez, sober in his judgment, aged, worried looking, little interested in active politics and grumbling to himself at the costly ambition of his son-in-law; finally, the young Saint-Fardiers, gaping till their jaws almost broke, tapping upon the window-panes, watching the crowd gather in the square.
At the Croix Blanche, Door did not have hands enough to grip the hands of every one who insisted upon shaking his. The affection, the exuberance and the sincerity of these well-worn and upright natures touched him keenly.
Laurent, the Tilbaks, Jean Vingerhout, Marbol and Vyveloy could not stay still, but went out, looked at the returns, ran to the central poll where the general count was being taken.
The first favorable results for Béjard and for Bergmans were greeted by hisses from the Association, by cheers from the Croix Blanche, or vice-versa. But the manifestations of the assembled plutocracy awoke a contradictory echo each time from the crowds in the square. Thus, when the figures of the majority attributed to Béjard appeared upon the sign at the windows of the Association, there was a little timid applause, promptly smothered beneath a chorus of groans and whistles; the opposite occurred whenever luck favored "Our Door."
Several times the votes balanced each other. The majority of the voters in the city declared for Bergmans. Already the crowd in the street and at the Croix Blanche trembled with happiness; every one began hugging every one else, and congratulating Bergmans. Paridael even wanted them to fly the
