The next day, Wednesday, Monsieur Rabourdin was to transact business
with the minister, for he had filled the late La Billardiere’s place
since the beginning of the latter’s illness. On such days the clerks
came punctually, the servants were specially attentive, there was always
a certain excitement in the offices on these signing-days,--and why,
nobody ever knew. On this occasion the three servants were at their
post, flattering themselves they should get a few fees; for a rumor of
Rabourdin’s nomination had spread through the ministry the night before,
thanks to Dutocq. Uncle Antoine and Laurent had donned their full
uniform, when, at a quarter to eight, des Lupeaulx’s servant came in
with a letter, which he begged Antoine to give secretly to Dutocq,
saying that the general-secretary had ordered him to deliver it without
fail at Monsieur Dutocq’s house by seven o’clock.
“I’m sure I don’t know how it happened,” he said, “but I overslept
myself. I’ve only just waked up, and he’d play the devil’s tattoo on me
if he knew the letter hadn’t gone. I know a famous secret, Antoine; but
don’t say anything about it to the clerks if I tell you; promise? He
would send me off if he knew I had said a single word; he told me so.”
“What’s inside the letter?” asked Antoine, eying it.
“Nothing; I looked this way--see.”
He made the letter gape open, and showed Antoine that there was nothing
but blank paper to be seen.
“This is going to be a great day for you, Laurent,” went on the
secretary’s man. “You are to have a new director. Economy must be the
order of the day, for they are going to unite the two divisions under
one director--you fellows will have to look out!”
“Yes, nine clerks are put on the retired list,” said Dutocq, who came in
at the moment; “how did you hear that?”
Antoine gave him the letter, and he had no sooner opened it than he
rushed headlong downstairs in the direction of the secretary’s office.
The bureaus Rabourdin and Baudoyer, after idling and gossiping since
the death of Monsieur de la Billardiere, were now recovering their usual
official look and the dolce far niente habits of a government office.
Nevertheless, the approaching end of the year did cause rather more
application among the clerks, just as porters and servants become at
that season more unctuously civil. They all came punctually, for one
thing; more remained after four o’clock than was usual at other times.
It was not forgotten that fees and gratuities depend on the last
impressions made upon the minds of masters. The news of the union of the
two divisions, that of La Billardiere and that of Clergeot, under one
director, had spread through the various offices. The number of the
clerks to be retired was known, but all were in ignorance of the names.
It was taken for granted that Poiret would not be replaced, and that
would be a retrenchment. Little La Billardiere had already departed.
Two new supernumeraries had made their appearance, and, alarming
circumstance! they were both sons of deputies. The news told about
in the offices the night before, just as the clerks were dispersing,
agitated all minds, and for the first half-hour after arrival in the
morning they stood around the stoves and talked it over. But earlier
than that, Dutocq, as we have seen, had rushed to des Lupeaulx on
receiving his note, and found him dressing. Without laying down his
razor, the general-secretary cast upon his subordinate the glance of a
general issuing an order.
“Are we alone?” he asked.
“Yes, monsieur.”
“Very good. March on Rabourdin; forward! steady! Of course you kept a
copy of that paper?”
“Yes.”
“You understand me? Inde iroe! There must be a general hue and cry
raised against him. Find some way to start a clamor--”
“I could get a man to make a caricature, but I haven’t five hundred
francs to pay for it.”
“Who would make it?”
“Bixou.”
“He shall have a thousand and be under-head-clerk to Colleville, who
will arrange with them; tell him so.”
“But he wouldn’t believe it on nothing more than my word.”
“Are you trying to make me compromise myself? Either do the thing or let
it alone; do you hear me?”
“If Monsieur Baudoyer were director--”
“Well, he will be. Go now, and make haste; you have no time to lose.
Go down the back-stairs; I don’t want people to know you have just seen
me.”
While Dutocq was returning to the clerks’ office and asking himself how
he could best incite a clamor against his chief without compromising
himself, Bixiou rushed to the Rabourdin office for a word of greeting.
Believing that he had lost his bet the incorrigible joker thought it
amusing to pretend that he had won it.
Bixiou [mimicking Phellion’s voice]. “Gentlemen, I salute you with a
collective how d’ye do, and I appoint Sunday next for the dinner at
the Rocher de Cancale. But a serious question presents itself. Is that
dinner to include the clerks who are dismissed?”
Poiret. “And those who retire?”
Bixiou. “Not that I care, for it isn’t I who pay.” [General
stupefaction.] “Baudoyer is appointed. I think I already hear him
calling Laurent” [mimicking Baudoyer], “Laurent! lock up my hair-shirt,
and my scourge.” [They all roar with laughter.] “Yes, yes, he laughs
well who laughs last. Gentlemen, there’s a great deal in that anagram of
Colleville’s. ‘Xavier Rabourdin, chef de bureau--D’abord reva bureaux,
e-u fin riche.’ If I were named ‘Charles X., par la grace de Dieu roi
de France et de Navarre,’ I should tremble in my shoes at the fate those
letters anagrammatize.”
Thuillier. “Look here! are you making fun?”
Bixiou. “No, I am not. Rabourdin resigns in a rage at finding Baudoyer
appointed director.”
Vimeux [entering.] “Nonsense, no such thing! Antoine (to whom I have
just been paying forty francs that I owed him) tells me that Monsieur
and Madame Rabourdin were at the minister’s private party last night and
stayed till midnight. His Excellency escorted Madame Rabourdin to the
staircase. It seems she was divinely dressed. In short, it is quite
certain that Rabourdin is to be director. Riffe, the secretary’s copying
clerk, told me he sat up all the night before to draw the papers; it is
no longer a secret. Monsieur Clergeot is retired. After thirty years’
service that’s no misfortune. Monsieur Cochlin, who is rich--”
Bixiou. “By cochineal.”
Vimeux. “Yes, cochineal; he’s a partner in the house of Matifat, rue des
Lombards. Well, he is retired; so is Poiret. Neither is to be replaced.
So much is certain; the rest is all conjecture. The appointment of
Monsieur Rabourdin is to be announced this morning; they are afraid of
intrigues.”
Bixiou. “What intrigues?”
Fleury. “Baudoyer’s, confound him! The priests uphold him; here’s
another article in the liberal journal,--only half a dozen lines, but
they are queer” [reads]:
“Certain persons spoke last night in the lobby of the Opera-house
of the return of Monsieur de Chateaubriand to the ministry, basing
their opinion on the choice made of Monsieur Rabourdin (the
protege of friends of the noble viscount) to fill the office for
which Monsieur Baudoyer was first selected. The clerical party is
not likely to withdraw unless in deference to the great writer.
“Blackguards!”
Dutocq [entering, having heard the whole discussion]. “Blackguards! Who?
Rabourdin? Then you know the news?”
Fleury [rolling his eyes savagely]. “Rabourdin a blackguard! Are you
mad, Dutocq? do you want a ball in your brains to give them weight?”
Dutocq. “I said nothing against Monsieur Rabourdin; only it has just
been told to me in confidence that he has written a paper denouncing all
the clerks and officials, and full of facts about their lives; in short,
the reason why his friends support him is because he has written this
paper against the administration, in which we are all exposed--”
Phellion [in a loud voice]. “Monsieur Rabourdin is incapable of--”
Bixiou. “Very proper in you to say so. Tell me, Dutocq” [they whisper
together and then go into the corridor].
Bixiou. “What has happened?”
Dutocq. “Do you remember what I said to you about that caricature?”
Bixiou. “Yes, what then?”
Dutocq. “Make it, and you shall be under-head-clerk with a famous fee.
The fact is, my dear fellow, there’s dissension among the powers that
be. The minister is pledged to Rabourdin, but if he doesn’t appoint
Baudoyer he offends the priests and their party. You see, the King, the
Dauphin and the Dauphine, the clergy, and lastly the court, all want
Baudoyer; the minister wants Rabourdin.”
Bixiou. “Good!”
Dutocq. “To ease the matter off, the minister, who sees he must give
way, wants to strangle the difficulty. We must find some good reason for
getting rid of Rabourdin. Now somebody has lately unearthed a paper of
his, exposing the present system of administration and wanting to
reform it; and that paper is going the rounds,--at least, this is how I
understand the matter. Make the drawing we talked of; in so doing you’ll
play the game of all the big people, and help the minister, the court,
the clergy,--in short, everybody; and you’ll get your appointment. Now
do you understand me?”
Bixiou. “I don’t understand how you came to know all that; perhaps you
are inventing it.”
Dutocq. “Do you want me to let you see what Rabourdin wrote about you?”
Bixiou. “Yes.”
Dutocq. “Then come home with me; for I must put the document into safe
keeping.”
Bixiou. “You go first alone.” [Re-enters the bureau Rabourdin.] “What
Dutocq told you is really all true, word of honor! It seems that
Monsieur Rabourdin has written and sent in very unflattering
descriptions of the clerks whom he wants to ‘reform.’ That’s the real
reason why his secret friends wish him appointed. Well, well; we live in
days when nothing astonishes me” [flings his cloak about him like Talma,
and declaims]:--
“Thou who has seen the fall of grand, illustrious heads,
Why thus amazed, insensate that thou art,
to find a man like Rabourdin employing such means? Baudoyer is too much
of a fool to know how to use them. Accept my congratulations, gentlemen;
either way you are under a most illustrious chief” [goes off].
Poiret. “I shall leave this ministry without ever comprehending a single
word that gentleman utters. What does he mean with his ‘heads that
fall’?”
Fleury. “‘Heads that fell?’ why, think of the four sergeants of
Rochelle, Ney, Berton, Caron, the brothers Faucher, and the massacres.”
Phellion. “He asserts very flippantly things that he only guesses at.”
Fleury. “Say at once that he lies; in his mouth truth itself turns to
corrosion.”
Phellion. “Your language is unparliamentary and lacks the courtesy and
consideration which are due to a colleague.”
Vimeux. “It seems to me that if what he says is false, the proper
name for it is calumny, defamation of character; and such a slanderer
deserves the thrashing.”
Fleury [getting hot]. “If the government offices are public places, the
matter ought to be taken into the police-courts.”
Phellion [wishing to avert a quarrel, tries to turn the conversation].
“Gentleman, might I ask you to keep quiet? I am writing a little
treatise on moral philosophy, and I am just at the heart of it.”
Fleury [interrupting]. “What are you saying about it, Monsieur
Phellion?”
Phellion [reading]. “Question.--What is the soul of man?
“Answer.--A spiritual substance which thinks and reasons.”
Thuillier. “Spiritual substance! you might as well talk about immaterial
stone.”
Poiret. “Don’t interrupt; let him go on.”
Phellion [continuing]. “Quest.--Whence comes the soul?
“Ans.--From God, who created it of a nature one and indivisible; the
destructibility thereof is, consequently, not conceivable, and he hath
said--”
Poiret [amazed]. “God said?”
Phellion. “Yes, monsieur; tradition authorizes the statement.”
Fleury [to Poiret]. “Come, don’t interrupt, yourself.”
Phellion [resuming]. “--and he hath said that he created it immortal; in
other words, the soul can never die.
“Quest.--What are the uses of the soul?
“Ans.--To comprehend, to will, to remember; these constitute
understanding, volition, memory.
“Quest.--What are the uses of the understanding?
“Ans.--To know. It is the eye of the soul.”
Fleury. “And the soul is the eye of what?”
Phellion [continuing]. “Quest.--What ought the understanding to know?
“Ans.--Truth.
“Quest.--Why does man possess volition?
“Ans.--To love good and hate evil.
“Quest.--What is good?
“Ans.--That which makes us happy.”
Vimeux. “Heavens! do you teach that to young ladies?”
Phellion. “Yes” [continuing]. “Quest.--How many kinds of good are
there?”
Fleury. “Amazingly indecorous, to say the least.”
Phellion [aggrieved]. “Oh, monsieur!” [Controlling himself.] “But here’s
the answer,--that’s as far as I have got” [reads]:--
“Ans.--There are two kinds of good,--eternal good and temporal good.”
Poiret [with a look of contempt]. “And does that sell for anything?”
Phellion. “I hope it will. It requires great application of mind to
carry on a system of questions and answers; that is why I ask you to be
quiet and let me think, for the answers--”
Thuillier [interrupting]. “The answers might be sold separately.”
Poiret. “Is that a pun?”
Thuillier. “No; a riddle.”
Phellion. “I am sorry I interrupted you” [he dives into his office
desk]. “But” [to himself] “at any rate, I have stopped their talking
about Monsieur Rabourdin.”
At this moment a scene was taking place between the minister and des
Lupeaulx which decided Rabourdin’s fate. The general-secretary had gone
to see the minister in his private study before the breakfast-hour, to
make sure that La Briere was not within hearing.
“Your Excellency is not treating me frankly--”
“He means a quarrel,” thought the minister; “and all because his
mistress coquetted with me last night. I did not think you so juvenile,
my dear friend,” he said aloud.
“Friend?” said the general-secretary, “that is what I want to find out.”
The minister looked haughtily at des Lupeaulx.
“We are alone,” continued the secretary, “and we can come to an
understanding. The deputy of the arrondissement in which my estate is
situated--”
“So it is really an estate!” said the minister, laughing, to hide his
surprise.
“Increased by a recent purchase of two hundred thousand francs’ worth of
adjacent property,” replied des Lupeaulx, carelessly. “You knew of the
deputy’s approaching resignation at least ten days ago, and you did not
tell me of it. You were perhaps not bound to do so, but you knew very
well that I am most anxious to take my seat in the centre. Has
it occurred to you that I might fling myself back on the
‘Doctrine’?--which, let me tell you, will destroy the administration and
the monarchy both if you continue to allow the party of representative
government to be recruited from men of talent whom you ignore. Don’t you
know that in every nation there are fifty to sixty, not more, dangerous
heads, whose schemes are in proportion to their ambition? The secret of
knowing how to govern is to know those heads well, and either to chop
them off or buy them. I don’t know how much talent I have, but I know
that I have ambition; and you are committing a serious blunder when you
set aside a man who wishes you well. The anointed head dazzles for the
time being, but what next?--Why, a war of words; discussions will spring
up once more and grow embittered, envenomed. Then, for your own sake, I
advise you not to find me at the Left Centre. In spite of your
prefect’s manoeuvres (instructions for which no doubt went from here
confidentially) I am secure of a majority. The time has come for you and
me to understand each other. After a breeze like this people sometimes
become closer friends than ever. I must be made count and receive the
grand cordon of the Legion of honor as a reward for my public services.
However, I care less for those things just now than I do for something
else in which you are more personally concerned. You have not yet
appointed Rabourdin, and I have news this morning which tends to show
that most persons will be better satisfied if you appoint Baudoyer.”
“Appoint Baudoyer!” echoed the minister. “Do you know him?”
“Yes,” said des Lupeaulx; “but suppose he proves incapable, as he will,
you can then get rid of him by asking those who protect him to employ
him elsewhere. You will thus get back an important office to give
to friends; it may come in at the right moment to facilitate some
compromise.”
“But I have pledged it to Rabourdin.”
“That may be; and I don’t ask you to make the change this very day.
I know the danger of saying yes and no within twenty-four hours. But
postpone the appointment, and don’t sign the papers till the day
after to-morrow; by that time you may find it impossible to retain
Rabourdin,--in fact, in all probability, he will send you his
resignation--”
“His resignation?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“He is the tool of a secret power in whose interests he has carried on
a system of espionage in all the ministries, and the thing has been
discovered by mere accident. He has written a paper of some kind, giving
short histories of all the officials. Everybody is talking of it; the
clerks are furious. For heaven’s sake, don’t transact business with him
to-day; let me find some means for you to avoid it. Ask an audience
of the King; I am sure you will find great satisfaction there if you
concede the point about Baudoyer; and you can obtain something as an
equivalent. Your position will be better than ever if you are forced
later to dismiss a fool whom the court party impose upon you.”
“What has made you turn against Rabourdin?”
“Would you forgive Monsieur de Chateaubriand for writing an article
against the ministry? Well, read that, and see how Rabourdin has treated
me in his secret document,” said des Lupeaulx, giving the paper to the
minister. “He pretends to reorganize the government from beginning to
end,--no doubt in the interests of some secret society of which, as
yet, we know nothing. I shall continue to be his friend for the sake
of watching him; by that means I may render the government such signal
service that they will have to make me count; for the peerage is the
only thing I really care for. I want you fully to understand that I am
not seeking office or anything else that would cause me to stand in your
way; I am simply aiming for the peerage, which will enable me to marry a
banker’s daughter with an income of a couple of hundred thousand francs.
And so, allow me to render you a few signal services which will make the
King feel that I have saved the throne. I have long said that Liberalism
would never offer us a pitched battle. It has given up conspiracies,
Carbonaroism, and revolts with weapons; it is now sapping and mining,
and the day is coming when it will be able to say, ‘Out of that and let
me in!’ Do you think I have been courting Rabourdin’s wife for my own
pleasure? No, but I got much information from her. So now, let us agree
on two things; first, the postponement of the appointment; second,
your /sincere/ support of my election. You shall find at the end of the
session that I have amply repaid you.”
For all answer, the minister took the appointment papers and placed them
in des Lupeaulx’s hand.
“I will go and tell Rabourdin,” added des Lupeaulx, “that you cannot
transact business with him till Saturday.”
The minister replied with an assenting gesture. The secretary despatched
his man with a message to Rabourdin that the minister could not work
with him until Saturday, on which day the Chamber was occupied with
private bills, and his Excellency had more time at his disposal.
Just at this moment Saillard, having brought the monthly stipend, was
slipping his little speech into the ear of the minister’s wife, who
drew herself up and answered with dignity that she did not meddle in
political matters, and besides, she had heard that Monsieur Rabourdin
was already appointed. Saillard, terrified, rushed up to Baudoyer’s
office, where he found Dutocq, Godard, and Bixiou in a state of
exasperation difficult to describe; for they were reading the terrible
paper on the administration in which they were all discussed.
Bixiou [with his finger on a paragraph]. “Here /you/ are, pere Saillard.
Listen” [reads]:--
“Saillard.--The office of cashier to be suppressed in all the
ministries; their accounts to be kept in future at the Treasury.
Saillard is rich and does not need a pension.
“Do you want to hear about your son-in-law?” [Turns over the leaves.]
“Here he is” [reads]:--
“Baudoyer.--Utterly incapable. To be thanked and dismissed. Rich; does
not need a pension.
“And here’s for Godard” [reads]:--
“Godard.--Should be dismissed; pension one-third of his present salary.
“In short, here we all are. Listen to what I am” [reads]: “An artist
who might be employed by the civil list, at the Opera, or the
Menus-Plaisirs, or the Museum. Great deal of capacity, little
self-respect, no application,--a restless spirit. Ha! I’ll give you a
touch of the artist, Monsieur Rabourdin!”
Saillard. “Suppress cashiers! Why, the man’s a monster?”
Bixiou. “Let us see what he says of our mysterious Desroys.” [Turns over
the pages; reads.]
“Desroys.--Dangerous; because he cannot be shaken in principles that are
subversive of monarchial power. He is the son of the Conventionel, and
he admires the Convention. He may become a very mischievous journalist.”
Baudoyer. “The police are not worse spies!”
Godard. “I shall go the general-secretary and lay a complaint in form;
we must all resign in a body if such a man as that is put over us.”
Dutocq. “Gentlemen, listen to me; let us be prudent. If you rise at
once in a body, we may all be accused of rancor and revenge. No, let
the thing work, let the rumor spread quietly. When the whole ministry is
aroused your remonstrances will meet with general approval.”
Bixiou. “Dutocq believes in the principles of the grand air composed by
the sublime Rossini for Basilio,--which goes to show, by the bye, that
the great composer was also a great politician. I shall leave my card
on Monsieur Rabourdin to-morrow morning, inscribed thus: ‘Bixiou; no
self-respect, no application, restless mind.’”
Godard. “A good idea, gentlemen. Let us all leave our cards to-morrow on
Rabourdin inscribed in the same way.”
Dutocq [leading Bixiou apart]. “Come, you’ll agree to make that
caricature now, won’t you?”
Bixiou. “I see plainly, my dear fellow, that you knew all about
this affair ten days ago” [looks him in the eye]. “Am I to be
under-head-clerk?”
Dutocq. “On my word of honor, yes, and a thousand-franc fee beside,
just as I told you. You don’t know what a service you’ll be rendering to
powerful personages.”
Bixiou. “You know them?”
Dutocq. “Yes.”
Bixiou. “Well, then I want to speak with them.”
Dutocq [dryly]. “You can make the caricature or not, and you can be
under-head-clerk or not,--as you please.”
Bixiou. “At any rate, let me see that thousand francs.”
Dutocq. “You shall have them when you bring the drawing.”
Bixiou. “Forward, march! that lampoon shall go from end to end of the
bureaus to-morrow morning. Let us go and torment the Rabourdins.” [Then
speaking to Saillard, Godard, and Baudoyer, who were talking together in
a low voice.] “We are going to stir up the neighbors.” [Goes with Dutocq
into the Rabourdin bureau. Fleury, Thuillier, and Vimeux are there,
talking excitedly.] “What’s the matter, gentlemen? All that I told you
turns out to be true; you can go and see for yourselves the work of
this infamous informer; for it is in the hands of the virtuous, honest,
estimable, upright, and pious Baudoyer, who is indeed utterly incapable
of doing any such thing. Your chief has got every one of you under the
guillotine. Go and see; follow the crowd; money returned if you are not
satisfied; execution /gratis/! The appointments are postponed. All the
bureaus are in arms; Rabourdin has been informed that the minister will
not work with him. Come, be off; go and see for yourselves.”
They all depart except Phellion and Poiret, who are left alone. The
former loved Rabourdin too well to look for proof that might injure a
man he was determined not to judge; the other had only five days more to
remain in the office, and cared nothing either way. Just then Sebastien
came down to collect the papers for signature. He was a good deal
surprised, though he did not show it, to find the office deserted.
Phellion. “My young friend” [he rose, a rare thing], “do you know what
is going on? what scandals are rife about Monsieur Rabourdin whom you
love, and” [bending to whisper in Sebastien’s ear] “whom I love as much
as I respect him. They say he has committed the imprudence to leave a
paper containing comments on the officials lying about in the office--”
[Phellion stopped short, caught the young man in his strong arms, seeing
that he turned pale and was near fainting, and placed him on a chair.]
“A key, Monsieur Poiret, to put down his back; have you a key?”
Poiret. “I have the key of my domicile.”
[Old Poiret junior promptly inserted the said key between Sebastien’s
shoulders, while Phellion gave him some water to drink. The poor lad
no sooner opened his eyes than he began to weep. He laid his head on
Phellion’s desk, and all his limbs were limp as if struck by lightning;
while his sobs were so heartrending, so genuine, that for the first
time in his life Poiret’s feelings were stirred by the sufferings of
another.]
Phellion [speaking firmly]. “Come, come, my young friend; courage! In
times of trial we must show courage. You are a man. What is the matter?
What has happened to distress you so terribly?”
Sebastien [sobbing]. “It is I who have ruined Monsieur Rabourdin. I left
that paper lying about when I copied it. I have killed my benefactor; I
shall die myself. Such a noble man!--a man who ought to be minister!”
Poiret [blowing his nose]. “Then it is true he wrote the report.”
Sebastien [still sobbing]. “But it was to--there, I was going to tell
his secrets! Ah! that wretch of a Dutocq; it was he who stole the
paper.”
His tears and sobs recommenced and made so much noise that Rabourdin
came up to see what was the matter. He found the young fellow almost
fainting in the arms of Poiret and Phellion.
Rabourdin. “What is the matter, gentlemen?”
Sebastien [struggling to his feet, and then falling on his knees before
Rabourdin]. “I have ruined you, monsieur. That memorandum,--Dutocq, the
monster, he must have taken it.”
Rabourdin [calmly]. “I knew that already” [he lifts Sebastien]. “You are
a child, my young friend.” [Speaks to Phellion.] “Where are the other
gentlemen?”
Phellion. “They have gone into Monsieur Baudoyer’s office to see a paper
which it is said--”
Rabourdin [interrupting him]. “Enough.” [Goes out, taking Sebastien with
him. Poiret and Phellion look at each other in amazement, and do not
know what to say.]
Poiret [to Phellion]. “Monsieur Rabourdin--”
Phellion [to Poiret]. “Monsieur Rabourdin--”
Poiret. “Well, I never! Monsieur Rabourdin!”
Phellion. “But did you notice how calm and dignified he was?”
Poiret [with a sly look that was more like a grimace]. “I shouldn’t be
surprised if there were something under it all.”
Phellion. “A man of honor; pure and spotless.”
Poiret. “Who is?”
Phellion. “Monsieur Poiret, you think as I think about Dutocq; surely
you understand me?”
Poiret [nodding his head three times and answering with a shrewd look].
“Yes.” [The other clerks return.]
Fleury. “A great shock; I still don’t believe the thing. Monsieur
Rabourdin, a king among men! If such men are spies, it is enough to
disgust one with virtue. I have always put Rabourdin among Plutarch’s
heroes.”
Vimeux. “It is all true.”
Poiret [reflecting that he had only five days more to stay in the
office]. “But, gentlemen, what do you say about the man who stole that
paper, who spied upon Rabourdin?” [Dutocq left the room.]
Fleury. “I say he is a Judas Iscariot. Who is he?”
Phellion [significantly]. “He is not here at /this moment/.”
Vimeux [enlightened]. “It is Dutocq!”
Phellion. “I have no proof of it, gentlemen. While you were gone, that
young man, Monsieur de la Roche, nearly fainted here. See his tears on
my desk!”
Poiret. “We held him fainting in our arms.--My key, the key of my
domicile!--dear, dear! it is down his back.” [Poiret goes hastily out.]
Vimeux. “The minister refused to transact business with Rabourdin
to-day; and Monsieur Saillard, to whom the secretary said a few words,
came to tell Monsieur Baudoyer to apply for the cross of the Legion of
honor,--there is one to be granted, you know, on New-Year’s day, to all
the heads of divisions. It is quite clear what it all means. Monsieur
Rabourdin is sacrificed by the very persons who employed him. Bixiou
says so. We were all to be turned out, except Sebastien and Phellion.”
Du Bruel [entering]. “Well, gentlemen, is it true?”
Thuillier. “To the last word.”
Du Bruel [putting his hat on again]. “Good-bye.” [Hurries out.]
Thuillier. “He may rush as much as he pleases to his Duc de Rhetore
and Duc de Maufrigneuse, but Colleville is to be our under-head-clerk,
that’s certain.”
Phellion. “Du Bruel always seemed to be attached to Monsieur Rabourdin.”
Poiret [returning]. “I have had a world of trouble to get back my key.
That boy is crying still, and Monsieur Rabourdin has disappeared.”
[Dutocq and Bixiou enter.]
Bixiou. “Ha, gentlemen! strange things are going on in your bureau. Du
Bruel! I want you.” [Looks into the adjoining room.] “Gone?”
Thuillier. “Full speed.”
Bixiou. “What about Rabourdin?”
Fleury. “Distilled, evaporated, melted! Such a man, the king of men,
that he--”
Poiret [to Dutocq]. “That little Sebastien, in his trouble, said that
you, Monsieur Dutocq, had taken the paper from him ten days ago.”
Bixiou [looking at Dutocq]. “You must clear yourself of /that/, my good
friend.” [All the clerks look fixedly at Dutocq.]
Dutocq. “Where’s the little viper who copied it?”
Bixiou. “Copied it? How did you know he copied it? Ha! ha! it is only
the diamond that cuts the diamond.” [Dutocq leaves the room.]
Poiret. “Would you listen to me, Monsieur Bixiou? I have only five days
and a half to stay in this office, and I do wish that once, only once, I
might have the pleasure of understanding what you mean. Do me the honor
to explain what diamonds have to do with these present circumstances.”
Bixiou. “I meant papa,--for I’m willing for once to bring my intellect
down to the level of yours,--that just as the diamond alone can cut
the diamond, so it is only one inquisitive man who can defeat another
inquisitive man.”
Fleury. “‘Inquisitive man’ stands for ‘spy.’”
Poiret. “I don’t understand.”
Bixiou. “Very well; try again some other time.”
Monsieur Rabourdin, after taking Sebastien to his room, had gone
straight to the minister; but the minister was at the Chamber of
Deputies. Rabourdin went at once to the Chamber, where he wrote a note
to his Excellency, who was at that moment in the tribune engaged in a
hot discussion. Rabourdin waited, not in the conference hall, but in
the courtyard, where, in spite of the cold, he resolved to remain and
intercept his Excellency as he got into his carriage. The usher of the
Chamber had told him that the minister was in the thick of a controversy
raised by the nineteen members of the extreme Left, and that the session
was likely to be stormy. Rabourdin walked to and for in the courtyard
of the palace for five mortal hours, a prey to feverish agitation. At
half-past six o’clock the session broke up, and the members filed out.
The minister’s chasseur came up to find the coachman.
“Hi, Jean!” he called out to him; “Monseigneur has gone with the
minister of war; they are going to see the King, and after that they
dine together, and we are to fetch him at ten o’clock. There’s a Council
this evening.”
Rabourdin walked slowly home, in a state of despondency not difficult to
imagine. It was seven o’clock, and he had barely time to dress.
“Well, you are appointed?” cried his wife, joyously, as he entered the
salon.
Rabourdin raised his head with a grievous motion of distress and
answered, “I fear I shall never again set foot in the ministry.”
“What?” said his wife, quivering with sudden anxiety.
“My memorandum on the officials is known in all the offices; and I have
not been able to see the minister.”
Celestine’s eyes were opened to a sudden vision in which the devil,
in one of his infernal flashes, showed her the meaning of her last
conversation with des Lupeaulx.
“If I had behaved like a low woman,” she thought, “we should have had
the place.”
She looked at Rabourdin with grief in her heart. A sad silence fell
between them, and dinner was eaten in the midst of gloomy meditations.
“And it is my Wednesday,” she said at last.
“All is not lost, dear Celestine,” said Rabourdin, laying a kiss on his
wife’s forehead; “perhaps to-morrow I shall be able to see the minister
and explain everything. Sebastien sat up all last night to finish the
writing; the papers are copied and collated; I shall place them on the
minister’s desk and beg him to read them through. La Briere will help
me. A man is never condemned without a hearing.”
“I am curious to see if Monsieur des Lupeaulx will come here to-night.”
“He? Of course he will come,” said Rabourdin; “there’s something of the
tiger in him; he likes to lick the blood of the wounds he has given.”
“My poor husband,” said his wife, taking his hand, “I don’t see how it
is that a man who could conceive so noble a reform did not also see that
it ought not to be communicated to a single person. It is one of those
ideas that a man should keep in his own mind, for he alone can apply
them. A statesman must do in our political sphere as Napoleon did in
his; he stooped, twisted, crawled. Yes, Bonaparte crawled! To be made
commander-in-chief of the Army of Italy he married Barrere’s mistress.
You should have waited, got yourself elected deputy, followed the
politics of a party, sometimes down in the depths, at other times on the
crest of the wave, and you should have taken, like Monsieur de Villele,
the Italian motto ‘Col tempo,’ in other words, ‘All things are given to
him who knows how to wait.’ That great orator worked for seven years to
get into power; he began in 1814 by protesting against the Charter
when he was the same age that you are now. Here’s your fault; you have
allowed yourself to be kept subordinate, when you were born to rule.”
The entrance of the painter Schinner imposed silence on the wife and
husband, but these words made the latter thoughtful.
“Dear friend,” said the painter, grasping Rabourdin’s hand, “the
support of artists is a useless thing enough, but let me say under these
circumstances that we are all faithful to you. I have just read the
evening papers. Baudoyer is appointed director and receives the cross of
the Legion of honor--”
“I have been longer in the department, I have served twenty-four hours,”
said Rabourdin with a smile.
“I know Monsieur le Comte de Serizy, the minister of State, pretty well,
and if he can help you, I will go and see him,” said Schinner.
The salon soon filled with persons who knew nothing of the government
proceedings. Du Bruel did not appear. Madame Rabourdin was gayer and
more graceful than ever, like the charger wounded in battle, that still
finds strength to carry his master from the field.
“She is very courageous,” said a few women who knew the truth, and who
were charmingly attentive to her, understanding her misfortunes.
“But she certainly did a great deal to attract des Lupeaulx,” said the
Baronne du Chatelet to the Vicomtesse de Fontaine.
“Do you think--” began the vicomtesse.
“If so,” interrupted Madame de Camps, in defence of her friend,
“Monsieur Rabourdin would at least have had the cross.”
About eleven o’clock des Lupeaulx appeared; and we can only describe him
by saying that his spectacles were sad and his eyes joyous; the glasses,
however, obscured the glances so successfully that only a physiognomist
would have seen the diabolical expression which they wore. He went up to
Rabourdin and pressed the hand which the latter could not avoid giving
him.
Then he approached Madame Rabourdin.
“We have much to say to each other,” he remarked as he seated himself
beside the beautiful woman, who received him admirably.
“Ah!” he continued, giving her a side glance, “you are grand indeed; I
find you just what I expected, glorious under defeat. Do you know that
it is a very rare thing to find a superior woman who answers to the
expectations formed of her. So defeat doesn’t dishearten you? You are
right; we shall triumph in the end,” he whispered in her ear. “Your fate
is always in your own hands,--so long, I mean, as your ally is a man who
adores you. We will hold counsel together.”
“But is Baudoyer appointed?” she asked.
“Yes,” said the secretary.
“Does he get the cross?”
“Not yet; but he will have it later.”
“Amazing!”
“Ah! you don’t understand political exigencies.”
During this evening, which seemed interminable to Madame Rabourdin,
another scene was occurring in the place Royale,--one of those comedies
which are played in seven Parisian salons whenever there is a change of
ministry. The Saillards’ salon was crowded. Monsieur and Madame Transon
arrived at eight o’clock; Madame Transon kissed Madame Baudoyer, nee
Saillard. Monsieur Bataille, captain of the National Guard, came with
his wife and the curate of Saint Paul’s.
“Monsieur Baudoyer,” said Madame Transon. “I wish to be the first to
congratulate you; they have done justice to your talents. You have
indeed earned your promotion.”
“Here you are, director,” said Monsieur Transon, rubbing his hands, “and
the appointment is very flattering to this neighborhood.”
“And we can truly say it came to pass without any intriguing,” said the
worthy Saillard. “We are none of us political intriguers; /we/ don’t go
to select parties at the ministry.”
Uncle Mitral rubbed his nose and grinned as he glanced at his niece
Elisabeth, the woman whose hand had pulled the wires, who was talking
with Gigonnet. Falleix, honest fellow, did not know what to make of the
stupid blindness of Saillard and Baudoyer. Messieurs Dutocq, Bixiou, du
Bruel, Godard, and Colleville (the latter appointed head of the bureau)
entered.
“What a crew!” whispered Bixiou to du Bruel. “I could make a fine
caricature of them in the shapes of fishes,--dorys, flounders, sharks,
and snappers, all dancing a saraband!”
“Monsieur,” said Colleville, “I come to offer you my congratulations;
or rather we congratulate ourselves in having such a man placed over us;
and we desire to assure you of the zeal with which we shall co-operate
in your labors. Allow me to say that this event affords a signal proof
to the truth of my axiom that a man’s destiny lies in the letters of his
name. I may say that I knew of this appointment and of your other honors
before I heard of them, for I spend the night in anagrammatizing
your name as follows:” [proudly] “Isidore C. T. Baudoyer,--Director,
decorated by us (his Majesty the King, of course).”
Baudoyer bowed and remarked piously that names were given in baptism.
Monsieur and Madame Baudoyer, senior, father and mother of the
new director, were there to enjoy the glory of their son and
daughter-in-law. Uncle Gigonnet-Bidault, who had dined at the house, had
a restless, fidgety look in his eye which frightened Bixiou.
“There’s a queer one,” said the latter to du Bruel, calling his
attention to Gigonnet, “who would do in a vaudeville. I wonder if he
could be bought. Such an old scarecrow is just the thing for a sign
over the Two Baboons. And what a coat! I did think there was nobody
but Poiret who could show the like after that after ten years’ public
exposure to the inclemencies of Parisian weather.”
“Baudoyer is magnificent,” said du Bruel.
“Dazzling,” answered Bixiou.
“Gentlemen,” said Baudoyer, “let me present you to my own uncle,
Monsieur Mitral, and to my great-uncle through my wife, Monsieur
Bidault.”
Gigonnet and Mitral gave a glance at the three clerks so penetrating,
so glittering with gleams of gold, that the two scoffers were sobered at
once.
“Hein?” said Bixiou, when they were safely under the arcades in the
place Royale; “did you examine those uncles?--two copies of Shylock.
I’ll bet their money is lent in the market at a hundred per cent per
week. They lend on pawn; and sell most that they lay hold of, coats,
gold lace, cheese, men, women, and children; they are a conglomeration
of Arabs, Jews, Genoese, Genevese, Greeks, Lombards, and Parisians,
suckled by a wolf and born of a Turkish woman.”
“I believe you,” said Godard. “Uncle Mitral used to be a sheriff’s
officer.”
“That settles it,” said du Bruel.
“I’m off to see the proof of my caricature,” said Bixiou; “but I should
like to study the state of things in Rabourdin’s salon to-night. You are
lucky to be able to go there, du Bruel.”
“I!” said the vaudevillist, “what should I do there? My face doesn’t
lend itself to condolences. And it is very vulgar in these days to go
and see people who are down.”