At each separate affair which Rabourdin carefully explained, Baudoyer's little eyes grew big as saucers.
"Farewell, monsieur," said Rabourdin at last, with a manner that was half-solemn, half-satirical.
Sebastien meanwhile had made up a package of papers and letters belonging to his chief and had carried them away in a hackney coach.
Rabourdin passed through the grand courtyard, while all the clerks were watching from the windows, and waited there a moment to see if the minister would send him any message.

His Excellency was dumb.

Phellion courageously escorted the fallen man to his home, expressing his feelings of respectful admiration; then he returned to the office, and took up his work, satisfied with his own conduct in rendering these funeral honors to the neglected and misjudged administrative talent.
Bixiou [seeing Phellion re-enter].

"Victrix cause diis placuit, sed victa Catoni." Phellion.

"Yes, monsieur." Poiret.