of words. They repeated the stories which were told about those two
Italian women--mother and daughter--who were semi-adventuresses and
semi-great ladies, and were to be met everywhere, at all parties and
gatherings, at the houses of state ministers, in the stage-boxes of
minor theatres, on the sands at fashionable watering-places, and even
in out-of-the-way hostelries. The mother, it was said, had been the
mistress of a royal personage; and the daughter, with an ignorance of
French customs and etiquette which had earned her the reputation of
being an eccentric, badly brought-up wench, galloped about on horseback
till she foundered her mounts, made a display of her dirty stockings
and damaged boots on rainy days, and looked around her for a husband
with the boldest of smiles. M. La Rouquette told how she had come
one night to a ball at the Sardinian Minister's, in the character of
the huntress Diana, with so scanty a costume that she had been all
but asked in marriage the next morning by old Monsieur de Nougarède,
a profligate senator. During the narration of this story, the three
deputies cast frequent glances at the fair Clorinde, who, in spite of
the regulations, was examining the members of the Chamber one after
another through a large pair of opera-glasses.
'No, no!' M. Kahn repeated, 'Rougon would never be such a fool! He
says, though, that she is very intelligent, and he has nicknamed her
"Mademoiselle Machiavelli." She amuses him, but that's all.'
'At the same time Rougon is wrong in not marrying,' said M. Béjuin. 'It
settles a man.'
Then they all three set to work to discuss the sort of woman that it
was desirable Rougon should marry. She ought to be a woman of some age,
thirty-five at the least, they said, rich, and competent to maintain
her house on a footing of high decorum.
Hubbub still prevailed in the Chamber, and the three deputies became so
absorbed in the stories they were telling, that they ceased to notice
what was taking place around them. Away in the distance, the voices of
ushers could be faintly heard calling out, 'To the sitting, gentlemen,
to the sitting.'
Fresh deputies were entering from all sides by way of the folding
doors of massive mahogany, whose panels gleamed with golden stars.
The Chamber, previously half empty, was now gradually filling. The
little scattered groups of members talking to each other from one row
of seats to another, with an expression of weariness on their faces,
or dozing, or trying to conceal their yawns, were now disappearing
amid the increasing crowd and general shaking of hands. As the members
took their seats, they exchanged smiles; there was a general, almost
family likeness about them. By the expression of their faces one and
all seemed impressed by the duties they had to fulfil. A stout man,
on the last row to the left, had fallen asleep, but was awakened by
his neighbour; and, when the latter whispered a few words in his ear,
he hastily rubbed his eyes, and assumed a more decorous attitude. The
sitting, after dragging on wearily through a series of petty tedious
details, was at last about to become supremely interesting.
M. Kahn and his two colleagues were being gradually driven towards
their seats by the increasing crowd, almost without being aware of it.
They went on with their conversation, every now and then suppressing
a laugh. M. La Rouquette began a fresh story about the fair Clorinde.
She had taken a strange whim into her head one day, he said; it was to
have her room hung with black, spangled with silver tears, and to hold
a reception of her friends there; she herself lying in bed, covered up
with black drapery which allowed scarcely anything more than her nose
to appear.
As M. Kahn at last took his seat, his memory suddenly returned to him.
'La Rouquette is a foolish chatterbox,' he muttered; 'he has made
me miss Rougon.' Then he turned towards his neighbour and exclaimed
angrily. 'You really might have reminded me, Béjuin!'
Rougon, who had just been introduced with the customary ceremonial,
had already taken his seat between two members of the Council of State
on the Government bench, a sort of huge mahogany box, situated beneath
the President's desk and occupying the place of the suppressed tribune.
His broad shoulders tightly distended his uniform of green cloth,
ornamented with gold braid at the neck and sleeve-cuffs. His face,
with thick grizzly hair clustering over his square brow, was turned
towards the Chamber, but his eyes were hidden by their heavy drooping
lids. The commonplace plainness of his big nose, fleshy lips, and long
cheeks, which his six-and-forty years had not yet furrowed with a
single wrinkle, was every now and then irradiated with something like
beauty by an expression of great strength. He sat perfectly quiet,
leaning back with his chin resting on his coat collar, noticing nobody,
and seeming quite indifferent and a little weary.
'He looks just as he does every day,' M. Béjuin remarked.
The deputies were all leaning over to observe Rougon. Whispered remarks
on his appearance buzzed from ear to ear. In the galleries especially
his entrance had caused lively excitement. The Charbonnels, in their
desire to let their presence be known, craned their enraptured faces
forward at the risk of falling over; Madame Correur coughed slightly
and drew out a handkerchief which she gently waved, while pretending
to carry it to her lips; Colonel Jobelin straightened himself; and
pretty Madame Bouchard, after tying her bonnet-strings afresh, again
hurried down to the front row of the State Council gallery, while M.
d'Escorailles remained behind quite still and seemingly much annoyed.
As for the fair Clorinde, she did not beat about the bush. Seeing that
Rougon did not raise his eyes, she began to tap her opera-glass against
the marble column beside which she was leaning, and as these tactics
did not succeed in attracting his attention, she said to her mother,
in such a clear ringing voice that every one in the Chamber heard her:
'He's in the sulks, the fat sly fellow!'
Several deputies looked round and smiled, and Rougon himself glanced
up at the fair Clorinde. As he nodded his head almost imperceptibly
towards her, she triumphantly clapped her hands, and leant back,
laughing and talking quite loudly to her mother, quite careless of the
men down below who were staring at her.
Before Rougon dropped his eyes again he glanced slowly round the
gallery, where his comprehensive gaze at once took in Madame Bouchard,
Colonel Jobelin, Madame Correur, and the Charbonnels. However, his face
remained expressionless. He again let his chin drop and half-closed his
eyes as he stifled a slight yawn.
'I'll go and have a word with him now,' M. Kahn whispered into M.
Béjuin's ear.
But as he was rising from his seat, the President, who during the last
few moments had been looking round to see if all the deputies were in
their places, rang his bell authoritatively. Then all at once there was
profound silence. A fair-haired member in the first row of seats now
stood up, holding a large sheet of paper upon which he kept his eyes
fixed as he spoke.
'I have the honour,' he said in a sing-song voice, 'to present a report
upon the bill by which it is proposed to include among the estimates of
the Ministry of State for 1856 a sum of 400,000 francs, to defray the
expenses of the ceremonies and rejoicings connected with the baptism of
the Prince Imperial.'
Then he slowly stepped forward as though about to lay the paper on the
table of the Chamber, but the deputies cried out unanimously: 'Read it!
Read it!'
The deputy who had prepared the report waited till the President gave
his sanction. Then he commenced in a voice that seemed affected by
emotion: 'Gentlemen, the bill which has been brought before us is one
of those which make the customary formalities of voting seem dilatory,
since they check the enthusiastic impulses of the Corps Législatif.'
'Hear! hear!' cried several members.
'In the humblest families,' continued the speaker in carefully
modulated tones, 'the birth of a son and heir, with all the ideas of
transmission which are attached to that title, is a source of such
sweet joy that the trials of the past are forgotten, and hope alone
hovers over the cradle of the new-born child. What, then, shall we
say of such a happy event when it not only prompts the rejoicing of
a family but that of a great nation, and is an event of European
interest?'
This piece of rhetoric thrilled the Chamber with emotion. Rougon, who
appeared to be asleep, could see none but beaming faces in front of
him. Some deputies accentuated their attention, holding their hands to
their ears so that they might lose nothing of this carefully prepared
report. Its author, after a slight pause, raised his voice as he
continued, 'To-day, gentlemen, it is indeed the great family of France
that invites all its members to give expression to their joy; and what
pomp and circumstance would be magnificent enough if it were possible
by display to express the grandeur of our legitimate hopes?' Here the
reporter paused again.
'Hear! hear!' cried the deputies.
'That's very nicely put,' M. Kahn remarked; 'isn't it, Béjuin?'
M. Béjuin was wagging his head with his eyes fixed on the cut-glass
chandelier which hung from the window-ceiling in front of the
President's seat. He was in a state of blissful rapture.
Meanwhile in the gallery the fair Clorinde kept her opera-glass to
her eyes and lost not a single expression of the reporter's face.
The Charbonnels' eyes were moist, and Madame Correur had assumed
a decorously attentive attitude, while the colonel expressed his
approbation by nodding his head, and pretty Madame Bouchard ventured to
lean against M. d'Escorailles' knees. The President and the clerk and
the ushers listened solemnly, without making the slightest gesture.
'The cradle of the Prince Imperial,' resumed the reporter, 'is
henceforth our security for the future; for, by perpetuating the
dynasty which we have all acclaimed, it assures the prosperity of our
country, its repose and stability, and, through ours, that of the rest
of Europe.'
Cries of 'Hush! hush!' were necessary to subdue the burst of
enthusiastic applause which broke out at this touching reference to
the cradle.
'Once before a scion of this illustrious race seemed equally intended
for a great destiny, but his time and our own have no similarity. Peace
is the result of the wise and skilful rule of which we are now reaping
the fruits, even as the genius of war dictated that epic poem which
forms the story of the first Empire.
'Hailed at his birth by the guns which from north to south proclaimed
the successes of our arms, the King of Rome was not even permitted to
serve his country; so, indeed, Providence then decreed----'
'What's that he's saying? He's putting his foot in it,' said sceptical
M. La Rouquette. 'That's very clumsy; he'll spoil his speech.'
The deputies certainly seemed uneasy. Why was this historical reference
dragged in to damp their enthusiasm? Several of them blew their noses.
The author of the report, however, only smiled when he saw the chilling
effect of his last sentences. He raised his voice and pursued his
antithesis, carefully modulating his tones, evidently quite confident
that he would make his point.
'But, coming to us at one of those momentous times when the birth of
a single life may be regarded as the salvation of all, the Child of
France to-day gives to us and to all future generations the right and
the privilege of living and dying at our ancestral firesides. Such is
the promise vouchsafed to us by the divine kindness.'
This seemed exquisite. Everybody understood, and a murmur of pleasure
travelled through the Chamber. The assurance of an everlasting peace
was very charming. The tranquillised members once more resumed the
pleased expressions of men revelling in rhetoric. There was nothing to
disturb them. Europe belonged to their master.
'The Emperor,' continued the speaker with fresh vigour, 'having become
the arbiter of Europe, was about to sign that noble peace which,
bringing together the productive forces of the different nations, is as
much an alliance of peoples as of monarchs,[2] when God was pleased to
crown his happiness as well as his glory. Is it not allowable to think
that, at that moment, he foresaw many fair and prosperous years while
gazing upon that cradle where slumbers, though now but an infant, the
heir who is destined to carry on his great policy?'
This, too, was thought very pretty. Such a hope might be justifiably
entertained, so the deputies said, as they nodded their heads
approvingly. The report, however, was now beginning to seem a trifle
long, and several members looked solemn again. Some of them even
glanced at the gallery like practical matter-of-fact politicians who
felt rather ashamed of being thus seen spending their time in an
unbusiness-like way. Others ceased to pay attention, and reverted to
their own affairs, or again tapped the mahogany of their desks with
their finger-tips; while through the minds of others there flitted
vague recollections of other sittings when professions of devotion had
been lavished on some other cradle.
As for M. La Rouquette, he turned very frequently to look at the
clock, and when the hand pointed to a quarter to three an expression
of desperation passed over his face. He would miss an appointment!
Meantime M. Kahn and M. Béjuin sat motionless side by side, with
crossed arms and blinking eyes, which wandered from the great velvet
panels to the bas-relief of white marble across which the President's
frock-coat stretched like a black bar. In the diplomatists' gallery
the fair Clorinde was still gazing through her opera-glass, making a
lengthy examination of Rougon, who preserved the majestic mien of a
sleeping bull.
However, the author of the report showed no signs of hurry, but
listened to himself as he read on, indulging the while in a rhythmic
beatifical motion of the shoulders.
'Let us then display full and complete confidence, and may the Corps
Législatif, upon this great and solemn occasion, bear in mind that the
Emperor and itself have a common origin, which almost confers upon it
a family-right above that which the other State bodies may possess to
share in its Sovereign's joy.
'The Corps Législatif, which, like himself, is the offspring of the
willing vote of the people, becomes now the mouthpiece of the nation in
offering to the august child the homage of its unchangeable respect,
of its devotion which nothing can destroy, and of that boundless
love which converts political faith into a religion whose duties are
blessed.'
The mention of homage and religion and duties seemed to betoken that
the speaker was drawing to a conclusion. The Charbonnels therefore
ventured to exchange remarks in low tones, and Madame Correur stifled
a slight cough in her handkerchief; while Madame Bouchard quietly
returned to the rear of the Council of State gallery, and resumed her
seat near M. Jules d'Escorailles.
And, indeed, the reporter suddenly changed his tone and came down from
the solemn to the familiar, as he quickly gabbled out: 'We propose to
you, gentlemen, the adoption of the bill, such as it has been brought
forward by the Council of State.'
Then he resumed his seat amidst general applause. Shouts of 'Hear,
hear!' rang out from all sides. M. de Combelot, whose smiling attention
had not waned for an instant, even cried, 'Long live the Emperor!' but
the exclamation was lost amid the hubbub; however, Colonel Jobelin
received almost an ovation as he stood at the edge of the gallery,
and clapped his withered hands, in spite of the regulations to the
contrary. Everybody enthusiastically congratulated everybody else.
Work was over, and from row to row kindly remarks were exchanged,
while a crowd of friends thronged round the author of the report and
energetically shook both his hands.
But above the confusion came a cry of 'Deliberate! deliberate!'
The President had been standing at his desk, apparently expecting this
cry. He rang his bell, and as the Chamber suddenly became respectfully
attentive, he said: 'Gentlemen, a large number of members desire that
we should at once deliberate upon this measure.'
'Yes, yes,' cried the Chamber with one voice.
But there was no deliberation. They proceeded to vote at once. The
two clauses of the measure which were successively put to the Chamber
were immediately passed by the deputies rising in their places. The
President had scarcely finished reading each clause before all the
members rose in a mass with much stamping of feet, as though under
the influence of some thrill of enthusiasm. Then the urn-shaped
ballot-boxes were passed round by the ushers who, threading their way
between the seats, received the votes in these zinc receptacles. The
400,000 francs were voted unanimously by the 239 members present.
'That's good work done,' said M. Béjuin naïvely, and he began to laugh
as though he had said something witty.
'It's past three o'clock; I'm off,' exclaimed M. La Rouquette, passing
in front of M. Kahn.
The Chamber was emptying. The deputies were all making for the doors
and seemed to vanish through the walls. The next business consisted of
matters of mere local interest, and there was soon no one left on the
benches except a few willing deputies who had probably nothing to do
elsewhere, and these resumed either their interrupted naps or their
conversation at the point where it had been broken off, the sitting
concluding, as it had begun, in the midst of listless indifference.
Gradually, too, the general buzzing subsided as though the Corps
Législatif had dropped off to sleep in some quiet corner of Paris.
'You had better try to get a word with Delestang as you go away,' said
M. Kahn to M. Béjuin. 'He came with Rougon, and must know something.'
'Yes, you are right; that's Delestang yonder,' replied M. Béjuin,
gazing at the councillor who was sitting on Rougon's left; 'I never
know them in those confounded uniforms.'
'I shall stop here so as to have a chance of getting hold of the great
man,' added M. Kahn. 'It's necessary that we should know the truth.'
The President was putting to the vote an interminable string of bills,
which were passed by the members rising in their places. They all
stood up and then sat down again quite mechanically, without ceasing
to converse and even without ceasing to sleep. The proceedings were
becoming so wearisome that most of the spectators whom curiosity had
brought to the gallery took their departure. Only Rougon's friends
remained. They were still hoping that he would speak.
Suddenly, a deputy, whose correctly trimmed whiskers bespoke the
provincial lawyer, arose. This at once stopped the monotonous mechanism
of the voting. Surprise made all the members turn and look at the one
who had risen. 'Gentlemen,' said he, standing in his place, 'I ask
permission to explain the reasons which, to my great regret, have
compelled me to differ from the majority of the Committee.'
His voice was so shrill and comical that the fair Clorinde had to
stifle a laugh with her hands. Below in the Chamber itself, the
astonishment was increasing. What was the man talking about? By dint
of inquiries, the others ascertained that the President had just
brought before the Chamber a bill authorising the department of the
Pyrénées-Orientales to borrow 250,000 francs wherewith to build
a Palace of Justice at Perpignan. The speaker, who was a general
councillor of the department, was opposing the bill. The matter seemed
likely to be interesting, so the deputies began to listen.
The member with the correctly trimmed whiskers spoke, however, with
great circumspection. He used the most guarded language, and referred
with the greatest respect to all the authorities; but the expenses
of the department, he said, were very heavy, and he dwelt at length
upon the financial situation of the Pyrénées-Orientales. Moreover, he
did not think that any necessity for a new Palace of Justice had been
satisfactorily demonstrated. He continued in this strain for a quarter
of an hour, and on sitting down seemed quite overcome with emotion.
Then Rougon again slowly dropped his eyelids which he had temporarily
raised.
However, the reporter of the Committee which had examined the bill
got up. He was a little animated old man who spoke in clear, incisive
tones like one who is sure of his ground. He began with a complimentary
reference to his honourable colleague, with whom he regretted to find
himself in disagreement. But really, he went on to say, the department
of the Pyrénées-Orientales was not nearly so heavily burdened as had
been alleged, and he brought forward fresh figures which showed the
financial position of the department in an entirely different light.
Moreover, the absolute necessity for a new Palace of Justice could not
be denied. And he entered into details. The old Palace, he said, was
situated in such a densely populated neighbourhood that the noise of
the streets prevented the judges from hearing counsel speak. Then it
was too small; and when the Assizes were being held, and there happened
to be a large number of witnesses in attendance, they were obliged
to remain on the landings exposed to the solicitations of interested
parties who might desire to influence them. The speaker concluded by
mentioning as an irresistible argument the fact that the measure had
been introduced at the instigation of the Keeper of the Seals himself.
Rougon was sitting quite still, his hands clasped upon his legs and his
head resting against the mahogany desk. At the outset of the discussion
his shoulders had seemed to sink lower than before, but when the first
speaker rose to reply, he raised his big frame without actually getting
on to his feet, and said in a husky voice: 'The honourable member who
reported upon this measure forgot to mention that it has also received
the approval of the Minister of the Interior and the Minister of
Finance.'
Then he let himself drop again and resumed the attitude of a drowsy
bull. A slight murmur ran through the Chamber, and the deputy who had
risen to reply sat down with a low bow. The bill was passed, and those
members who had shown any interest in the debate once more assumed an
expression of indifference.
Rougon had spoken. From one section of the gallery to another Colonel
Jobelin exchanged glances with the Charbonnels, while Madame Correur
made ready to leave her place, just as she would have quitted her box
at the theatre before the fall of the curtain, if the hero of the play
had delivered his last speech. M. d'Escorailles and Madame Bouchard had
already taken their departure. Clorinde stood by the velvet-covered
balustrade, her majestic figure showing conspicuously as she slowly
wrapped her lace shawl about her, glancing round the deputies' seats
as she did so. The rain was no longer beating down upon the window,
but the sky remained overcast. The mahogany desks looked quite black
in that sombre light, and a shadowy mist streamed over the seats,
which the bald heads of some of the deputies lighted up here and there
with patches of white. Against the marble-work below the vague, pale
allegorical figures, the President and the clerks and ushers, all in
black and ranged in a line, showed like the stiff silhouettes of a
shadow-pantomime. The whole Chamber became blurred in the suddenly
waning light.
'Oh, come along!' exclaimed Clorinde, pushing her mother out of the
gallery; 'it is enough to kill one in here!'
She quite startled the drowsy ushers in the corridor by the strange
fashion in which she had twisted her shawl round her hips.
When they got downstairs into the hall the ladies met Colonel Jobelin
and Madame Correur.
'We are waiting for him here,' said the colonel. 'Perhaps he will come
out this way. But in any case I have signalled to Kahn and Béjuin to
come and give me some information.'
Madame Correur stepped up to the Countess Balbi. 'Ah! it would be a
great misfortune,' she said in a disconsolate voice without attempting
to explain her meaning.
The colonel raised his eyes to heaven. 'The country has need of men
like Rougon,' he resumed after a short pause. 'The Emperor would make a
great mistake.'
Then there was another pause. Clorinde tried to peep into the 'Salle
des Pas Perdus,' but an usher promptly closed the door. So she came
back to her mother, who was standing silent in her black veil. 'What a
bore it is having to wait like this!' she muttered.