He watched Barouche, and he deplored the triumph in his eye,
for there was no surety of winning; his own was the scientific mind
without emotions or passions. He did not "enthuse," and he did not
despair; he kept his head.
Presently there were fluctuations in favour of Carnac, and the six
hundred by which Barouche led were steadily swallowed up; he saw that
among the places which gave Carnac a majority were the Island and the
Mill. He was also nonplussed by Carnac's coolness. For a man with an
artist's temperament, he was well controlled. When he came into the
room, he went straight to Barouche and shook hands with him, saying
they'd soon offer congratulations to the winner. As the meeting took
place the agent did not fail to note how alike in build and manner were
the two men, how similar were their gestures.
When at last the Returning Officer announced the result, the agent dared
not glance at his defeated chief. Yet he saw him go to Carnac and offer
a hand.
"We've had a straight fight, Grier, and I hope you'll have luck in
Parliament. This is no place for me. It's your game, and I'll eat my
sour bread alone."
He motioned to the window with a balcony, beyond which were the shouting
thousands. Then he smiled at Carnac, and in his heart he was glad he had
not used the facts about Luzanne before the public. The boy's face was
so glowing that his own youth came back, and a better spirit took
residence in him.
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