Rabourdin’s bureau was during his absence a prey to the keenest
excitement; for the relation between the head officials and the clerks
in a government office is so regulated that, when a minister’s messenger
summons the head of a bureau to his Excellency’s presence (above all at
the latter’s breakfast hour), there is no end to the comments that are
made. The fact that the present unusual summons followed so closely
on the death of Monsieur de la Billardiere seemed to give special
importance to the circumstance, which was made known to Monsieur
Saillard, who came at once to confer with Baudoyer. Bixiou, who happened
at the moment to be at work with the latter, left him to converse with
his father-in-law and betook himself to the bureau Rabourdin, where the
usual routine was of course interrupted.
Bixiou [entering]. “I thought I should find you at a white heat! Don’t
you know what’s going on down below? The virtuous woman is done for!
yes, done for, crushed! Terrible scene at the ministry!”
Dutocq [looking fixedly at him]. “Are you telling the truth?”
Bixiou. “Pray, who would regret it? Not you, certainly, for you will be
made under-head-clerk and du Bruel head of the bureau. Monsieur Baudoyer
gets the division.”
Fleury. “I’ll bet a hundred francs that Baudoyer will never be head of
the division.”
Vimeux. “I’ll join in the bet; will you, Monsieur Poiret?”
Poiret. “I retire in January.”
Bixiou. “Is it possible? are we to lose the sight of those shoe-ties?
What will the ministry be without you? Will nobody take up the bet on my
side?”
Dutocq. “I can’t, for I know the facts. Monsieur Rabourdin is appointed.
Monsieur de la Billardiere requested it of the two ministers on his
death-bed, blaming himself for having taken the emoluments of an office
of which Rabourdin did all the work; he felt remorse of conscience, and
the ministers, to quiet him, promised to appoint Rabourdin unless higher
powers intervened.”
Bixiou. “Gentlemen, are you all against me? seven to one,--for I know
which side you’ll take, Monsieur Phellion. Well, I’ll bet a dinner
costing five hundred francs at the Rocher de Cancale that Rabourdin does
not get La Billardiere’s place. That will cost you only a hundred francs
each, and I’m risking five hundred,--five to one against me! Do you take
it up?” [Shouting into the next room.] “Du Bruel, what say you?”
Phellion [laying down his pen]. “Monsieur, may I ask on what you base
that contingent proposal?--for contingent it is. But stay, I am wrong
to call it a proposal; I should say contract. A wager constitutes a
contract.”
Fleury. “No, no; you can only apply the word ‘contract’ to agreements
that are recognized in the Code. Now the Code allows of no action for
the recovery of a bet.”
Dutocq. “Proscribe a thing and you recognize it.”
Bixiou. “Good! my little man.”
Poiret. “Dear me!”
Fleury. “True! when one refuses to pay one’s debts, that’s recognizing
them.”
Thuillier. “You would make famous lawyers.”
Poiret. “I am as curious as Monsieur Phellion to know what grounds
Monsieur Bixiou has for--”
Bixiou [shouting across the office]. “Du Bruel! Will you bet?”
Du Bruel [appearing at the door]. “Heavens and earth, gentlemen, I’m
very busy; I have something very difficult to do; I’ve got to write an
obituary notice of Monsieur de la Billardiere. I do beg you to be quiet;
you can laugh and bet afterwards.”
Bixiou. “That’s true, du Bruel; the praise of an honest man is a very
difficult thing to write. I’d rather any day draw a caricature of him.”
Du Bruel. “Do come and help me, Bixiou.”
Bixiou [following him]. “I’m willing; though I can do such things much
better when eating.”
Du Bruel. “Well, we will go and dine together afterwards. But listen,
this is what I have written” [reads] “‘The Church and the Monarchy are
daily losing many of those who fought for them in Revolutionary times.’”
Bixiou. “Bad, very bad; why don’t you say, ‘Death carries on its ravages
amongst the few surviving defenders of the monarchy and the old and
faithful servants of the King, whose heart bleeds under these reiterated
blows?’” [Du Bruel writes rapidly.] “‘Monsieur le Baron Flamet de la
Billardiere died this morning of dropsy, caused by heart disease.’ You
see, it is just as well to show there are hearts in government offices;
and you ought to slip in a little flummery about the emotions of the
Royalists during the Terror,--might be useful, hey! But stay,--no!
the petty papers would be sure to say the emotions came more from the
stomach than the heart. Better leave that out. What are you writing
now?”
Du Bruel [reading]. “‘Issuing from an old parliamentary stock in which
devotion to the throne was hereditary, as was also attachment to the
faith of our fathers, Monsieur de la Billardiere--’”
Bixiou. “Better say Monsieur le Baron de la Billardiere.”
Du Bruel. “But he wasn’t baron in 1793.”
Bixiou. “No matter. Don’t you remember that under the Empire Fouche
was telling an anecdote about the Convention, in which he had to quote
Robespierre, and he said, ‘Robespierre called out to me, “Duc d’Otrante,
go to the Hotel de Ville.”’ There’s a precedent for you!”
Du Bruel. “Let me just write that down; I can use it in a
vaudeville.--But to go back to what we were saying. I don’t want to put
‘Monsieur le baron,’ because I am reserving his honors till the last,
when they rained upon him.”
Bixiou. “Oh! very good; that’s theatrical,--the finale of the article.”
Du Bruel [continuing]. “‘In appointing Monsieur de la Billardiere
gentleman-in-ordinary--’”
Bixiou. “Very ordinary!”
Du Bruel. “‘--of the Bedchamber, the King rewarded not only the services
rendered by the Provost, who knew how to harmonize the severity of his
functions with the customary urbanity of the Bourbons, but the bravery
of the Vendean hero, who never bent the knee to the imperial idol. He
leaves a son, who inherits his loyalty and his talents.’”
Bixiou. “Don’t you think all that is a little too florid? I should tone
down the poetry. ‘Imperial idol!’ ‘bent the knee!’ damn it, my dear
fellow, writing vaudevilles has ruined your style; you can’t come down
to pedestrial prose. I should say, ‘He belonged to the small number of
those who.’ Simplify, simplify! the man himself was a simpleton.”
Du Bruel. “That’s vaudeville, if you like! You would make your fortune
at the theatre, Bixiou.”
Bixiou. “What have you said about Quiberon?” [Reads over du Bruel’s
shoulder.] “Oh, that won’t do! Here, this is what you must say: ‘He took
upon himself, in a book recently published, the responsibility for all
the blunders of the expedition to Quiberon,--thus proving the nature of
his loyalty, which did not shrink from any sacrifice.’ That’s clever and
witty, and exalts La Billardiere.”
Du Bruel. “At whose expense?”
Bixiou [solemn as a priest in a pulpit]. “Why, Hoche and Tallien, of
course; don’t you read history?”
Du Bruel. “No. I subscribed to the Baudouin series, but I’ve never had
time to open a volume; one can’t find matter for vaudevilles there.”
Phellion [at the door]. “We all want to know, Monsieur Bixiou, what made
you think that the worthy and honorable Monsieur Rabourdin, who has so
long done the work of this division for Monsieur de la Billardiere,--he,
who is the senior head of all the bureaus, and whom, moreover, the
minister summoned as soon as he heard of the departure of the late
Monsieur de la Billardiere,--will not be appointed head of the
division.”
Bixiou. “Papa Phellion, you know geography?”
Phellion [bridling up]. “I should say so!”
Bixiou. “And history?”
Phellion [affecting modesty]. “Possibly.”
Bixiou [looking fixedly at him]. “Your diamond pin is loose, it is
coming out. Well, you may know all that, but you don’t know the human
heart; you have gone no further in the geography and history of that
organ than you have in the environs of the city of Paris.”
Poiret [to Vimeux]. “Environs of Paris? I thought they were talking of
Monsieur Rabourdin.”
Bixiou. “About that bet? Does the entire bureau Rabourdin bet against
me?”
All. “Yes.”
Bixiou. “Du Bruel, do you count in?”
Du Bruel. “Of course I do. We want Rabourdin to go up a step and make
room for others.”
Bixiou. “Well, I accept the bet,--for this reason; you can hardly
understand it, but I’ll tell it to you all the same. It would be right
and just to appoint Monsieur Rabourdin” [looking full at Dutocq],
“because, in that case, long and faithful service, honor, and talent
would be recognized, appreciated, and properly rewarded. Such an
appointment is in the best interests of the administration.” [Phellion,
Poiret, and Thuillier listen stupidly, with the look of those who try
to peer before them in the darkness.] “Well, it is just because the
promotion would be so fitting, and because the man has such merit,
and because the measure is so eminently wise and equitable that I bet
Rabourdin will not be appointed. Yes, you’ll see, that appointment will
slip up, just like the invasion from Boulogne, and the march to Russia,
for the success of which a great genius has gathered together all the
chances. It will fail as all good and just things do fail in this low
world. I am only backing the devil’s game.”
Du Bruel. “Who do you think will be appointed?”
Bixiou. “The more I think about Baudoyer, the more sure I feel that he
unites all the opposite qualities; therefore I think he will be the next
head of this division.”
Dutocq. “But Monsieur des Lupeaulx, who sent for me to borrow my
Charlet, told me positively that Monsieur Rabourdin was appointed, and
that the little La Billardiere would be made Clerk of the Seals.”
Bixiou. “Appointed, indeed! The appointment can’t be made and signed
under ten days. It will certainly not be known before New-Year’s day.
There he goes now across the courtyard; look at him, and say if the
virtuous Rabourdin looks like a man in the sunshine of favor. I should
say he knows he’s dismissed.” [Fleury rushes to the window.] “Gentlemen,
adieu; I’ll go and tell Monsieur Baudoyer that I hear from you that
Rabourdin is appointed; it will make him furious, the pious creature!
Then I’ll tell him of our wager, to cool him down,--a process we call at
the theatre turning the Wheel of Fortune, don’t we, du Bruel? Why do I
care who gets the place? simply because if Baudoyer does he will make me
under-head-clerk” [goes out].
Poiret. “Everybody says that man is clever, but as for me, I can never
understand a word he says” [goes on copying]. “I listen and listen; I
hear words, but I never get at any meaning; he talks about the environs
of Paris when he discusses the human heart and” [lays down his pen and
goes to the stove] “declares he backs the devil’s game when it is a
question of Russia and Boulogne; now what is there so clever in that,
I’d like to know? We must first admit that the devil plays any game at
all, and then find out what game; possibly dominoes” [blows his nose].
Fleury [interrupting]. “Pere Poiret is blowing his nose; it must be
eleven o’clock.”
Du Bruel. “So it is! Goodness! I’m off to the secretary; he wants to
read the obituary.”
Poiret. “What was I saying?”
Thuillier. “Dominoes,--perhaps the devil plays dominoes.” [Sebastien
enters to gather up the different papers and circulars for signature.]
Vimeux. “Ah! there you are, my fine young man. Your days of hardship are
nearly over; you’ll get a post. Monsieur Rabourdin will be appointed.
Weren’t you at Madame Rabourdin’s last night? Lucky fellow! they say
that really superb women go there.”
Sebastien. “Do they? I didn’t know.”
Fleury. “Are you blind?”
Sebastien. “I don’t like to look at what I ought not to see.”
Phellion [delighted]. “Well said, young man!”
Vimeux. “The devil! well, you looked at Madame Rabourdin enough, any
how; a charming woman.”
Fleury. “Pooh! thin as a rail. I saw her in the Tuileries, and I much
prefer Percilliee, the ballet-mistress, Castaing’s victim.”
Phellion. “What has an actress to do with the wife of a government
official?”
Dutocq. “They both play comedy.”
Fleury [looking askance at Dutocq]. “The physical has nothing to do with
the moral, and if you mean--”
Dutocq. “I mean nothing.”
Fleury. “Do you all want to know which of us will really be made head of
this bureau?”
All. “Yes, tell us.”
Fleury. “Colleville.”
Thuillier. “Why?”
Fleury. “Because Madame Colleville has taken the shortest way to
it--through the sacristy.”
Thuillier. “I am too much Colleville’s friend not to beg you, Monsieur
Fleury, to speak respectfully of his wife.”
Phellion. “A defenceless woman should never be made the subject of
conversation here--”
Vimeux. “All the more because the charming Madame Colleville won’t
invite Fleury to her house. He backbites her in revenge.”
Fleury. “She may not receive me on the same footing that she does
Thuillier, but I go there--”
Thuillier. “When? how?--under her windows?”
Though Fleury was dreaded as a bully in all the offices, he received
Thuillier’s speech in silence. This meekness, which surprised the other
clerks, was owing to a certain note for two hundred francs, of doubtful
value, which Thuillier agreed to pass over to his sister. After this
skirmish dead silence prevailed. They all wrote steadily from one to
three o’clock. Du Bruel did not return.
About half-past three the usual preparations for departure, the brushing
of hats, the changing of coats, went on in all the ministerial offices.
That precious thirty minutes thus employed served to shorten by just so
much the day’s labor. At this hour the over-heated rooms cool off;
the peculiar odor that hangs about the bureaus evaporates; silence
is restored. By four o’clock none but a few clerks who do their duty
conscientiously remain. A minister may know who are the real workers
under him if he will take the trouble to walk through the divisions
after four o’clock,--a species of prying, however, that no one of his
dignity would condescend to.
The various heads of divisions and bureaus usually encountered each
other in the courtyards at this hour and exchanged opinions on the
events of the day. On this occasion they departed by twos and threes,
most of them agreeing in favor of Rabourdin; while the old stagers,
like Monsieur Clergeot, shook their heads and said, “Habent sua sidera
lites.” Saillard and Baudoyer were politely avoided, for nobody knew
what to say to them about La Billardiere’s death, it being fully
understood that Baudoyer wanted the place, though it was certainly not
due to him.
When Saillard and his son-in-law had gone a certain distance from the
ministry the former broke silence and said: “Things look badly for you,
my poor Baudoyer.”
“I can’t understand,” replied the other, “what Elisabeth was dreaming
of when she sent Godard in such a hurry to get a passport for Falleix;
Godard tells me she hired a post-chaise by the advice of my uncle
Mitral, and that Falleix has already started for his own part of the
country.”
“Some matter connected with our business,” suggested Saillard.
“Our most pressing business just now is to look after Monsieur La
Billardiere’s place,” returned Baudoyer, crossly.
They were just then near the entrance of the Palais-Royal on the rue
Saint-Honore. Dutocq came up, bowing, and joined them.
“Monsieur,” he said to Baudoyer, “if I can be useful to you in any way
under the circumstances in which you find yourself, pray command me, for
I am not less devoted to your interests than Monsieur Godard.”
“Such an assurance is at least consoling,” replied Baudoyer; “it makes
me aware that I have the confidence of honest men.”
“If you would kindly employ your influence to get me placed in
your division, taking Bixiou as head of the bureau and me as
under-head-clerk, you will secure the future of two men who are ready to
do anything for your advancement.”
“Are you making fun of us, monsieur?” asked Saillard, staring at him
stupidly.
“Far be it from me to do that,” said Dutocq. “I have just come from the
printing-office of the ministerial journal (where I carried from the
general-secretary an obituary notice of Monsieur de la Billardiere), and
I there read an article which will appear to-night about you, which has
given me the highest opinion of your character and talents. If it is
necessary to crush Rabourdin, I’m in a position to give him the final
blow; please to remember that.”
Dutocq disappeared.
“May I be shot if I understand a single word of it,” said Saillard,
looking at Baudoyer, whose little eyes were expressive of stupid
bewilderment. “I must buy the newspaper to-night.”
When the two reached home and entered the salon on the ground-floor,
they found a large fire lighted, and Madame Saillard, Elisabeth,
Monsieur Gaudron and the curate of Saint-Paul’s sitting by it. The
curate turned at once to Monsieur Baudoyer, to whom Elisabeth made a
sign which he failed to understand.
“Monsieur,” said the curate, “I have lost no time in coming in person to
thank you for the magnificent gift with which you have adorned my poor
church. I dared not run in debt to buy that beautiful monstrance,
worthy of a cathedral. You, who are one of our most pious and faithful
parishioners, must have keenly felt the bareness of the high altar. I am
on my way to see Monseigneur the coadjutor, and he will, I am sure, send
you his own thanks later.”
“I have done nothing as yet--” began Baudoyer.
“Monsieur le cure,” interposed his wife, cutting him short. “I see I am
forced to betray the whole secret. Monsieur Baudoyer hopes to complete
the gift by sending you a dais for the coming Fete-Dieu. But the
purchase must depend on the state of our finances, and our finances
depend on my husband’s promotion.”
“God will reward those who honor him,” said Monsieur Gaudron, preparing,
with the curate, to take leave.
“But will you not,” said Saillard to the two ecclesiastics, “do us the
honor to take pot luck with us?”
“You can stay, my dear vicar,” said the curate to Gaudron; “you know I
am engaged to dine with the curate of Saint-Roch, who, by the bye, is to
bury Monsieur de la Billardiere to-morrow.”
“Monsieur le cure de Saint-Roch might say a word for us,” began
Baudoyer. His wife pulled the skirt of his coat violently.
“Do hold your tongue, Baudoyer,” she said, leading him aside and
whispering in his ear. “You have given a monstrance to the church, that
cost five thousand francs. I’ll explain it all later.”
The miserly Baudoyer make a sulky grimace, and continued gloomy and
cross for the rest of the day.
“What did you busy yourself about Falleix’s passport for? Why do you
meddle in other people’s affairs?” he presently asked her.
“I must say, I think Falleix’s affairs are as much ours as his,”
returned Elisabeth, dryly, glancing at her husband to make him notice
Monsieur Gaudron, before whom he ought to be silent.
“Certainly, certainly,” said old Saillard, thinking of his
co-partnership.
“I hope you reached the newspaper office in time?” remarked Elisabeth to
Monsieur Gaudron, as she helped him to soup.
“Yes, my dear lady,” answered the vicar; “when the editor read the
little article I gave him, written by the secretary of the Grand
Almoner, he made no difficulty. He took pains to insert it in a
conspicuous place. I should never have thought of that; but this young
journalist has a wide-awake mind. The defenders of religion can enter
the lists against impiety without disadvantage at the present moment,
for there is a great deal of talent in the royalist press. I have every
reason to believe that success will crown your hopes. But you must
remember, my dear Baudoyer, to promote Monsieur Colleville; he is an
object of great interest to his Eminence; in fact, I am desired to
mention him to you.”
“If I am head of the division, I will make him head of one of my
bureaus, if you want me to,” said Baudoyer.
The matter thus referred to was explained after dinner, when the
ministerial organ (bought and sent up by the porter) proved to contain
among its Paris news the following articles, called items:--
“Monsieur le Baron de la Billardiere died this morning, after a
long and painful illness. The king loses a devoted servant, the
Church a most pious son. Monsieur de la Billardiere’s end has
fitly crowned a noble life, consecrated in dark and troublesome
times to perilous missions, and of late years to arduous civic
duties. Monsieur de la Billardiere was provost of a department,
where his force of character triumphed over all the obstacles that
rebellion arrayed against him. He subsequently accepted the
difficult post of director of a division (in which his great
acquirements were not less useful than the truly French affability
of his manners) for the express purpose of conciliating the
serious interests that arise under its administration. No rewards
have ever been more truly deserved than those by which the King,
Louis XVIII., and his present Majesty took pleasure in crowning a
loyalty which never faltered under the usurper. This old family
still survives in the person of a single heir to the excellent man
whose death now afflicts so many warm friends. His Majesty has
already graciously made known that Monsieur Benjamin de la
Billardiere will be included among the gentlemen-in-ordinary of
the Bedchamber.
“The numerous friends who have not already received their
notification of this sad event are hereby informed that the
funeral will take place to-morrow at four o’clock, in the church
of Saint-Roch. The memorial address will be delivered by Monsieur
l’Abbe Fontanon.”----
“Monsieur Isidore-Charles-Thomas Baudoyer, representing one of the
oldest bourgeois families of Paris, and head of a bureau in the
late Monsieur de la Billardiere’s division, has lately recalled
the old traditions of piety and devotion which formerly
distinguished these great families, so jealous for the honor and
glory of religion, and so faithful in preserving its monuments.
The church of Saint-Paul has long needed a monstrance in keeping
with the magnificence of that basilica, itself due to the Company
of Jesus. Neither the vestry nor the curate were rich enough to
decorate the altar. Monsieur Baudoyer has bestowed upon the parish
a monstrance that many persons have seen and admired at Monsieur
Gohier’s, the king’s jeweller. Thanks to the piety of this
gentleman, who did not shrink from the immensity of the price, the
church of Saint-Paul possesses to-day a masterpiece of the
jeweller’s art designed by Monsieur de Sommervieux. It gives us
pleasure to make known this fact, which proves how powerless the
declamations of liberals have been on the mind of the Parisian
bourgeoisie. The upper ranks of that body have at all times been
royalist and they prove it when occasion offers.”
“The price was five thousand francs,” said the Abbe Gaudron; “but as the
payment was in cash, the court jeweller reduced the amount.”
“Representing one of the oldest bourgeois families in Paris!” Saillard
was saying to himself; “there it is printed,--in the official paper,
too!”
“Dear Monsieur Gaudron,” said Madame Baudoyer, “please help my father to
compose a little speech that he could slip into the countess’s ear when
he takes her the monthly stipend,--a single sentence that would cover
all! I must leave you. I am obliged to go out with my uncle Mitral.
Would you believe it? I was unable to find my uncle Bidault at home this
afternoon. Oh, what a dog-kennel he lives in! But Monsieur Mitral, who
knows his ways, says he does all his business between eight o’clock in
the morning and midday, and that after that hour he can be found only at
a certain cafe called the Cafe Themis,--a singular name.”
“Is justice done there?” said the abbe, laughing.
“Do you ask why he goes to a cafe at the corner of the rue Dauphine and
the quai des Augustins? They say he plays dominoes there every night
with his friend Monsieur Gobseck. I don’t wish to go to such a place
alone; my uncle Mitral will take me there and bring me back.”
At this instant Mitral showed his yellow face, surmounted by a wig which
looked as though it might be made of hay, and made a sign to his niece
to come at once, and not keep a carriage waiting at two francs an hour.
Madame Baudoyer rose and went away without giving any explanation to her
husband or father.
“Heaven has given you in that woman,” said Monsieur Gaudron to Baudoyer
when Elisabeth had disappeared, “a perfect treasure of prudence
and virtue, a model of wisdom, a Christian who gives sure signs of
possessing the Divine spirit. Religion alone is able to form such
perfect characters. To-morrow I shall say a mass for the success of your
good cause. It is all-important, for the sake of the monarchy and of
religion itself that you should receive this appointment. Monsieur
Rabourdin is a liberal; he subscribes to the ‘Journal des Debats,’ a
dangerous newspaper, which made war on Monsieur le Comte de Villele to
please the wounded vanity of Monsieur de Chateaubriand. His Eminence
will read the newspaper to-night, if only to see what is said of his
poor friend Monsieur de la Billardiere; and Monseigneur the coadjutor
will speak of you to the King. When I think of what you have now done
for his dear church, I feel sure he will not forget you in his prayers;
more than that, he is dining at this moment with the coadjutor at the
house of the curate of Saint-Roch.”
These words made Saillard and Baudoyer begin to perceive that Elisabeth
had not been idle ever since Godard had informed her of Monsieur de la
Billardiere’s decease.
“Isn’t she clever, that Elisabeth of mine?” cried Saillard,
comprehending more clearly than Monsieur l’abbe the rapid undermining,
like the path of a mole, which his daughter had undertaken.
“She sent Godard to Rabourdin’s door to find out what newspaper he
takes,” said Gaudron; “and I mentioned the name to the secretary of his
Eminence,--for we live at a crisis when the Church and Throne must keep
themselves informed as to who are their friends and who their enemies.”
“For the last five days I have been trying to find the right thing to
say to his Excellency’s wife,” said Saillard.
“All Paris will read that,” cried Baudoyer, whose eyes were still
riveted on the paper.
“Your eulogy costs us four thousand eight hundred francs, son-in-law!”
exclaimed Madame Saillard.
“You have adorned the house of God,” said the Abbe Gaudron.
“We might have got salvation without doing that,” she returned. “But
if Baudoyer gets the place, which is worth eight thousand more, the
sacrifice is not so great. If he doesn’t get it! hey, papa,” she added,
looking at her husband, “how we shall have bled!--”
“Well, never mind,” said Saillard, enthusiastically, “we can always make
it up through Falleix, who is going to extend his business and use his
brother, whom he has made a stockbroker on purpose. Elisabeth might have
told us, I think, why Falleix went off in such a hurry. But let’s invent
my little speech. This is what I thought of: ‘Madame, if you would say a
word to his Excellency--’”
“‘If you would deign,’” said Gaudron; “add the word ‘deign,’ it is
more respectful. But you ought to know, first of all, whether Madame la
Dauphine will grant you her protection, and then you could suggest to
Madame la comtesse the idea of co-operating with the wishes of her Royal
Highness.”
“You ought to designate the vacant post,” said Baudoyer.
“‘Madame la comtesse,’” began Saillard, rising, and bowing to his wife,
with an agreeable smile.
“Goodness! Saillard; how ridiculous you look. Take care, my man, you’ll
make the woman laugh.”
“‘Madame la comtesse,’” resumed Saillard. “Is that better, wife?”
“Yes, my duck.”
“‘The place of the worthy Monsieur de la Billardiere is vacant; my
son-in-law, Monsieur Baudoyer--’”
“‘Man of talent and extreme piety,’” prompted Gaudron.
“Write it down, Baudoyer,” cried old Saillard, “write that sentence
down.”
Baudoyer proceeded to take a pen and wrote, without a blush, his own
praises, precisely as Nathan or Canalis might have reviewed one of their
own books.
“‘Madame la comtesse’--Don’t you see, mother?” said Saillard to his
wife; “I am supposing you to be the minister’s wife.”
“Do you take me for a fool?” she answered sharply. “I know that.”
“‘The place of the late worthy de la Billardiere is vacant; my
son-in-law, Monsieur Baudoyer, a man of consummate talent and extreme
piety--’” After looking at Monsieur Gaudron, who was reflecting, he
added, “‘will be very glad if he gets it.’ That’s not bad; it’s brief
and it says the whole thing.”
“But do wait, Saillard; don’t you see that Monsieur l’abbe is turning it
over in his mind?” said Madame Saillard; “don’t disturb him.”
“‘Will be very thankful if you would deign to interest yourself in his
behalf,’” resumed Gaudron. “‘And in saying a word to his Excellency you
will particularly please Madame la Dauphine, by whom he has the honor
and the happiness to be protected.’”
“Ah! Monsieur Gaudron, that sentence is worth more than the monstrance;
I don’t regret the four thousand eight hundred--Besides, Baudoyer, my
lad, you’ll pay them, won’t you? Have you written it all down?”
“I shall make you repeat it, father, morning and evening,” said Madame
Saillard. “Yes, that’s a good speech. How lucky you are, Monsieur
Gaudron, to know so much. That’s what it is to be brought up in a
seminary; they learn there how to speak to God and his saints.”
“He is as good as he is learned,” said Baudoyer, pressing the priest’s
hand. “Did you write that article?” he added, pointing to the newspaper.
“No, it was written by the secretary of his Eminence, a young abbe
who is under obligations to me, and who takes an interest in Monsieur
Colleville; he was educated at my expense.”
“A good deed is always rewarded,” said Baudoyer.
While these four personages were sitting down to their game of boston,
Elisabeth and her uncle Mitral reached the cafe Themis, with much
discourse as they drove along about a matter which Elisabeth’s keen
perceptions told her was the most powerful lever that could be used to
force the minister’s hand in the affair of her husband’s appointment.
Uncle Mitral, a former sheriff’s officer, crafty, clever at sharp
practice, and full of expedients and judicial precautions, believed the
honor of his family to be involved in the appointment of his nephew.
His avarice had long led him to estimate the contents of old Gigonnet’s
strong-box, for he knew very well they would go in the end to benefit
his nephew Baudoyer; and it was therefore important that the latter
should obtain a position which would be in keeping with the combined
fortunes of the Saillards and the old Gigonnet, which would finally
devolve on the Baudoyer’s little daughter; and what an heiress she would
be with an income of a hundred thousand francs! to what social position
might she not aspire with that fortune? He adopted all the ideas of his
niece Elisabeth and thoroughly understood them. He had helped in sending
off Falleix expeditiously, explaining to him the advantage of taking
post horses. After which, while eating his dinner, he reflected that
it be as well to give a twist of his own to the clever plan invented by
Elisabeth.
When they reached the Cafe Themis he told his niece that he alone could
manage Gigonnet in the matter they both had in view, and he made her
wait in the hackney-coach and bide her time to come forward at the right
moment. Elisabeth saw through the window-panes the two faces of Gobseck
and Gigonnet (her uncle Bidault), which stood out in relief against
the yellow wood-work of the old cafe, like two cameo heads, cold and
impassible, in the rigid attitude that their gravity gave them. The two
Parisian misers were surrounded by a number of other old faces, on which
“thirty per cent discount” was written in circular wrinkles that started
from the nose and turned round the glacial cheek-bones. These remarkable
physiognomies brightened up on seeing Mitral, and their eyes gleamed
with tigerish curiosity.
“Hey, hey! it is papa Mitral!” cried one of them, named Chaboisseau, a
little old man who discounted for a publisher.
“Bless me, so it is!” said another, a broker named Metivier, “ha, that’s
an old monkey well up in his tricks.”
“And you,” retorted Mitral, “you are an old crow who knows all about
carcasses.”
“True,” said the stern Gobseck.
“What are you here for? Have you come to seize friend Metivier?” asked
Gigonnet, pointing to the broker, who had the bluff face of a porter.
“Your great-niece Elisabeth is out there, papa Gigonnet,” whispered
Mitral.
“What! some misfortune?” said Bidault. The old man drew his eyebrows
together and assumed a tender look like that of an executioner when
about to go to work officially. In spite of his Roman virtue he must
have been touched, for his red nose lost somewhat of its color.
“Well, suppose it is misfortune, won’t you help Saillard’s daughter?--a
girl who has knitted your stockings for the last thirty years!” cried
Mitral.
“If there’s good security I don’t say I won’t,” replied Gigonnet.
“Falleix is in with them. Falleix has just set up his brother as a
broker, and he is doing as much business as the Brezacs; and what with?
his mind, perhaps! Saillard is no simpleton.”
“He knows the value of money,” put in Chaboisseau.
That remark, uttered among those old men, would have made an artist and
thinker shudder as they all nodded their heads.
“But it is none of my business,” resumed Bidault-Gigonnet. “I’m not
bound to care for my neighbors’ misfortunes. My principle is never to be
off my guard with friends or relatives; you can’t perish except through
weakness. Apply to Gobseck; he is softer.”
The usurers all applauded these doctrines with a shake of their metallic
heads. An onlooker would have fancied he heard the creaking of ill-oiled
machinery.
“Come, Gigonnet, show a little feeling,” said Chaboisseau, “they’ve knit
your stockings for thirty years.”
“That counts for something,” remarked Gobseck.
“Are you all alone? Is it safe to speak?” said Mitral, looking carefully
about him. “I come about a good piece of business.”
“If it is good, why do you come to us?” said Gigonnet, sharply,
interrupting Mitral.
“A fellow who was a gentleman of the Bedchamber,” went on Mitral, “a
former ‘chouan,’--what’s his name?--La Billardiere is dead.”
“True,” said Gobseck.
“And our nephew is giving monstrances to the church,” snarled Gigonnet.
“He is not such a fool as to give them, he sells them, old man,” said
Mitral, proudly. “He wants La Billardiere’s place, and in order to get
it, we must seize--”
“Seize! You’ll never be anything but a sheriff’s officer,” put in
Metivier, striking Mitral amicably on the shoulder; “I like that, I do!”
“Seize Monsieur Clement des Lupeaulx in our clutches,” continued Mitral;
“Elisabeth has discovered how to do it, and he is--”
“Elisabeth”; cried Gigonnet, interrupting again; “dear little creature!
she takes after her grandfather, my poor brother! he never had his
equal! Ah, you should have seen him buying up old furniture; what tact!
what shrewdness! What does Elisabeth want?”
“Hey! hey!” cried Mitral, “you’ve got back your bowels of compassion,
papa Gigonnet! That phenomenon has a cause.”
“Always a child,” said Gobseck to Gigonnet, “you are too quick on the
trigger.”
“Come, Gobseck and Gigonnet, listen to me; you want to keep well with
des Lupeaulx, don’t you? You’ve not forgotten how you plucked him in
that affair about the king’s debts, and you are afraid he’ll ask you to
return some of his feathers,” said Mitral.
“Shall we tell him the whole thing?” asked Gobseck, whispering to
Gigonnet.
“Mitral is one of us; he wouldn’t play a shabby trick on his former
customers,” replied Gigonnet. “You see, Mitral,” he went on, speaking to
the ex-sheriff in a low voice, “we three have just bought up all those
debts, the payment of which depends on the decision of the liquidation
committee.”
“How much will you lose?” asked Mitral.
“Nothing,” said Gobseck.
“Nobody knows we are in it,” added Gigonnet; “Samanon screens us.”
“Come, listen to me, Gigonnet; it is cold, and your niece is waiting
outside. You’ll understand what I want in two words. You must at
once, between you, send two hundred and fifty thousand francs (without
interest) into the country after Falleix, who has gone post-haste, with
a courier in advance of him.”
“Is it possible!” said Gobseck.
“What for?” cried Gigonnet, “and where to?”
“To des Lupeaulx’s magnificent country-seat,” replied Mitral. “Falleix
knows the country, for he was born there; and he is going to buy up
land all round the secretary’s miserable hovel, with the two hundred
and fifty thousand francs I speak of,--good land, well worth the price.
There are only nine days before us for drawing up and recording the
notarial deeds (bear that in mind). With the addition of this land, des
Lupeaulx’s present miserable property would pay taxes to the amount of
one thousand francs, the sum necessary to make a man eligible to the
Chamber. Ergo, with it des Lupeaulx goes into the electoral college,
becomes eligible, count, and whatever he pleases. You know the deputy
who has slipped out and left a vacancy, don’t you?”
The two misers nodded.
“Des Lupeaulx would cut off a leg to get elected in his place,”
continued Mitral; “but he must have the title-deeds of the property in
his own name, and then mortgage them back to us for the amount of the
purchase-money. Ah! now you begin to see what I am after! First of all,
we must make sure of Baudoyer’s appointment, and des Lupeaulx will get
it for us on these terms; after that is settled we will hand him back
to you. Falleix is now canvassing the electoral vote. Don’t you
perceive that you have Lupeaulx completely in your power until after the
election?--for Falleix’s friends are a large majority. Now do you see
what I mean, papa Gigonnet?”
“It’s a clever game,” said Metivier.
“We’ll do it,” said Gigonnet; “you agree, don’t you, Gobseck? Falleix
can give us security and put mortgages on the property in my name; we’ll
go and see des Lupeaulx when all is ready.”
“We’re robbed,” said Gobseck.
“Ha, ha!” laughed Mitral, “I’d like to know the robber!”
“Nobody can rob us but ourselves,” answered Gigonnet. “I told you we
were doing a good thing in buying up all des Lupeaulx’s paper from his
creditors at sixty per cent discount.”
“Take this mortgage on his estate and you’ll hold him tighter still
through the interest,” answered Mitral.
“Possibly,” said Gobseck.
After exchanging a shrewd look with Gobseck, Gigonnet went to the door
of the cafe.
“Elisabeth! follow it up, my dear,” he said to his niece. “We hold your
man securely; but don’t neglect accessories. You have begun well, clever
woman! go on as you began and you’ll have your uncle’s esteem,” and he
grasped her hand, gayly.
“But,” said Mitral, “Metivier and Chaboisseau heard it all, and they
may play us a trick and tell the matter to some opposition journal
which would catch the ball on its way and counteract the effect of the
ministerial article. You must go alone, my dear; I dare not let those
two cormorants out of my sight.” So saying he re-entered the cafe.
The next day the numerous subscribers to a certain liberal journal read,
among the Paris items, the following article, inserted authoritatively
by Chaboisseau and Metivier, share-holders in the said journal, brokers
for publishers, printers, and paper-makers, whose behests no editor
dared refuse:--
“Yesterday a ministerial journal plainly indicated as the probable
successor of Monsieur le Baron de la Billardiere, Monsieur
Baudoyer, one of the worthiest citizens of a populous quarter,
where his benevolence is scarcely less known than the piety on
which the ministerial organ laid so much stress. Why was that
sheet silent as to his talents? Did it reflect that in boasting of
the bourgeoise nobility of Monsieur Baudoyer--which, certainly, is
a nobility as good as any other--it was pointing out a reason for
the exclusion of the candidate? A gratuitous piece of perfidy! an
attempt to kill with a caress! To appoint Monsieur Baudoyer is to
do honor to the virtues, the talents of the middle classes, of
whom we shall ever be the supporters, though their cause seems at
times a lost one. This appointment, we repeat, will be an act of
justice and good policy; consequently we may be sure it will not
be made.”
On the morrow, Friday, the usual day for the dinner given by Madame
Rabourdin, whom des Lupeaulx had left at midnight, radiant in beauty, on
the staircase of the Bouffons, arm in arm with Madame de Camps (Madame
Firmiani had lately married), the old roue awoke with his thoughts
of vengeance calmed, or rather refreshed, and his mind full of a last
glance exchanged with Celestine.
“I’ll make sure of Rabourdin’s support by forgiving him now,--I’ll get
even with him later. If he hasn’t this place for the time being I should
have to give up a woman who is capable of becoming a most precious
instrument in the pursuit of high political fortune. She understands
everything; shrinks from nothing, from no idea whatever!--and besides,
I can’t know before his Excellency what new scheme of administration
Rabourdin has invented. No, my dear des Lupeaulx, the thing in hand is
to win all now for your Celestine. You may make as many faces as you
please, Madame la comtesse, but you will invite Madame Rabourdin to your
next select party.”
Des Lupeaulx was one of those men who to satisfy a passion are quite
able to put away revenge in some dark corner of their minds. His course
was taken; he was resolved to get Rabourdin appointed.
“I will prove to you, my dear fellow, that I deserve a good place in
your galley,” thought he as he seated himself in his study and began to
unfold a newspaper.
He knew so well what the ministerial organ would contain that he rarely
took the trouble to read it, but on this occasion he did open it to
look at the article on La Billardiere, recollecting with amusement the
dilemma in which du Bruel had put him by bringing him the night before
Bixiou’s amendments to the obituary. He was laughing to himself as he
reread the biography of the late Comte da Fontaine, dead a few months
earlier, which he had hastily substituted for that of La Billardiere,
when his eyes were dazzled by the name of Baudoyer. He read with fury
the article which pledged the minister, and then he rang violently for
Dutocq, to send him at once to the editor. But what was his astonishment
on reading the reply of the opposition paper! The situation was
evidently serious. He knew the game, and he saw that the man who was
shuffling his cards for him was a Greek of the first order. To dictate
in this way through two opposing newspapers in one evening, and to begin
the fight by forestalling the intentions of the minister was a daring
game! He recognized the pen of a liberal editor, and resolved to
question him that night at the opera. Dutocq appeared.
“Read that,” said des Lupeaulx, handing him over the two journals, and
continuing to run his eye over others to see if Baudoyer had pulled
any further wires. “Go to the office and ask who has dared to thus
compromise the minister.”
“It was not Monsieur Baudoyer himself,” answered Dutocq, “for he never
left the ministry yesterday. I need not go and inquire; for when I took
your article to the newspaper office I met a young abbe who brought in a
letter from the Grand Almoner, before which you yourself would have had
to bow.”
“Dutocq, you have a grudge against Monsieur Rabourdin, and it isn’t
right; for he has twice saved you from being turned out. However, we
are not masters of our own feelings; we sometimes hate our benefactors.
Only, remember this; if you show the slightest treachery to Rabourdin,
without my permission, it will be your ruin. As to that newspaper,
let the Grand Almoner subscribe as largely as we do, if he wants
its services. Here we are at the end of the year; the matter of
subscriptions will come up for discussion, and I shall have something to
say on that head. As to La Billardiere’s place, there is only one way to
settle the matter; and that is to appoint Rabourdin this very day.”
“Gentlemen,” said Dutocq, returning to the clerks’ office and addressing
his colleagues. “I don’t know if Bixiou has the art of looking into
futurity, but if you have not read the ministerial journal I advise you
to study the article about Baudoyer; then, as Monsieur Fleury takes the
opposition sheet, you can see the reply. Monsieur Rabourdin certainly
has talent, but a man who in these days gives a six-thousand-franc
monstrance to the Church has a devilish deal more talent than he.”
Bixiou [entering]. “What say you, gentlemen, to the First Epistle to the
Corinthians in our pious ministerial journal, and the reply Epistle to
the Ministers in the opposition sheet? How does Monsieur Rabourdin feel
now, du Bruel?”
Du Bruel [rushing in]. “I don’t know.” [He drags Bixiou back into his
cabinet, and says in a low voice] “My good fellow, your way of helping
people is like that of the hangman who jumps upon a victim’s shoulders
to break his neck. You got me into a scrape with des Lupeaulx, which my
folly in ever trusting you richly deserved. A fine thing indeed, that
article on La Billardiere. I sha’n’t forget the trick! Why, the very
first sentence was as good as telling the King he was superannuated and
it was time for him to die. And as to that Quiberon bit, it said plainly
that the King was a--What a fool I was!”
Bixiou [laughing]. “Bless my heart! are you getting angry? Can’t a
fellow joke any more?”
Du Bruel. “Joke! joke indeed. When you want to be made head-clerk
somebody shall joke with you, my dear fellow.”
Bixiou [in a bullying tone]. “Angry, are we?”
Du Bruel. “Yes!”
Bixiou [dryly]. “So much the worse for you.”
Du Bruel [uneasy]. “You wouldn’t pardon such a thing yourself, I know.”
Bixiou [in a wheedling tone]. “To a friend? indeed I would.” [They hear
Fleury’s voice.] “There’s Fleury cursing Baudoyer. Hey, how well
the thing has been managed! Baudoyer will get the appointment.”
[Confidentially] “After all, so much the better. Du Bruel, just keep
your eye on the consequences. Rabourdin would be a mean-spirited
creature to stay under Baudoyer; he will send in his registration, and
that will give us two places. You can be head of the bureau and take me
for under-head-clerk. We will make vaudevilles together, and I’ll fag at
your work in the office.”
Du Bruel [smiling]. “Dear me, I never thought of that. Poor Rabourdin! I
shall be sorry for him, though.”
Bixiou. “That shows how much you love him!” [Changing his tone] “Ah,
well, I don’t pity him any longer. He’s rich; his wife gives parties and
doesn’t ask me,--me, who go everywhere! Well, good-bye, my dear fellow,
good-bye, and don’t owe me a grudge!” [He goes out through the clerks’
office.] “Adieu, gentlemen; didn’t I tell you yesterday that a man who
has nothing but virtues and talents will always be poor, even though he
has a pretty wife?”
Henry. “You are so rich, you!”
Bixiou. “Not bad, my Cincinnatus! But you’ll give me that dinner at the
Rocher de Cancale.”
Poiret. “It is absolutely impossible for me to understand Monsieur
Bixiou.”
Phellion [with an elegaic air]. “Monsieur Rabourdin so seldom reads the
newspapers that it might perhaps be serviceable to deprive ourselves
momentarily by taking them in to him.” [Fleury hands over his paper,
Vimeux the office sheet, and Phellion departs with them.]
At that moment des Lupeaulx, coming leisurely downstairs to breakfast
with the minister, was asking himself whether, before playing a trump
card for the husband, it might not be prudent to probe the wife’s heart
and make sure of a reward for his devotion. He was feeling about for
the small amount of heart that he possessed, when, at a turn of the
staircase, he encountered his lawyer, who said to him, smiling, “Just a
word, Monseigneur,” in the tone of familiarity assumed by men who know
they are indispensable.
“What is it, my dear Desroches?” exclaimed the politician. “Has anything
happened?”
“I have come to tell you that all your notes and debts have been brought
up by Gobseck and Gigonnet, under the name of a certain Samanon.”
“Men whom I helped to make their millions!”
“Listen,” whispered the lawyer. “Gigonnet (really named Bidault) is
the uncle of Saillard, your cashier; and Saillard is father-in-law to a
certain Baudoyer, who thinks he has a right to the vacant place in your
ministry. Don’t you think I have done right to come and tell you?”
“Thank you,” said des Lupeaulx, nodding to the lawyer with a shrewd
look.
“One stroke of your pen will buy them off,” said Desroches, leaving him.
“What an immense sacrifice!” muttered des Lupeaulx. “It would be
impossible to explain it to a woman,” thought he. “Is Celestine worth
more than the clearing off of my debts?--that is the question. I’ll go
and see her this morning.”
So the beautiful Madame Rabourdin was to be, within an hour, the arbiter
of her husband’s fate, and no power on earth could warn her of the
importance of her replies, or give her the least hint to guard her
conduct and compose her voice. Moreover, in addition to her mischances,
she believed herself certain of success, never dreaming that Rabourdin
was undermined in all directions by the secret sapping of the mollusks.
“Well, Monseigneur,” said des Lupeaulx, entering the little salon where
they breakfasted, “have you seen the articles on Baudoyer?”
“For God’s sake, my dear friend,” replied the minister, “don’t talk of
those appointments just now; let me have an hour’s peace! They cracked
my ears last night with that monstrance. The only way to save Rabourdin
is to bring his appointment before the Council, unless I submit to
having my hand forced. It is enough to disgust a man with the public
service. I must purchase the right to keep that excellent Rabourdin by
promoting a certain Colleville!”
“Why not make over the management of this pretty little comedy to me,
and rid yourself of the worry of it? I’ll amuse you every morning with
an account of the game of chess I should play with the Grand Almoner,”
said des Lupeaulx.
“Very good,” said the minister, “settle it with the head examiner. But
you know perfectly well that nothing is more likely to strike the king’s
mind than just those reasons the opposition journal has chosen to put
forth. Good heavens! fancy managing a ministry with such men as Baudoyer
under me!”
“An imbecile bigot,” said des Lupeaulx, “and as utterly incapable as--”
“--as La Billardiere,” added the minister.
“But La Billardiere had the manners of a gentleman-in-ordinary,” replied
des Lupeaulx. “Madame,” he continued, addressing the countess, “it
is now an absolute necessity to invite Madame Rabourdin to your next
private party. I must assure you she is the intimate friend of Madame
de Camps; they were at the Opera together last night. I first met her at
the hotel Firmiani. Besides, you will see that she is not of a kind to
compromise a salon.”
“Invite Madame Rabourdin, my dear,” said the minister, “and pray let us
talk of something else.”