then follow me all of you!'
Madame Correur grasped his yellow duck coat so as not to lose him, and
Madame Charbonnel panted along close behind, while her husband was
almost lost in the crowd. Gilquin, by much resolute pushing, managed
to open a passage through the dense throng, making such a show of
authority that people drew back even at the most crowded parts. When
he at last reached the quay, he lifted the ladies with an effort, and
seated them on the parapet, with their legs dangling over, on the water
side, and this in spite of their little shrieks of alarm. He himself
and M. Charbonnel remained standing behind.
'Well, my little dears, you're in the front boxes now,' he said, to
reassure the women; 'don't be frightened, we'll take hold of your
waists.'
Thereupon he slipped both arms round Madame Correur's plump figure.
She smiled at him. It was impossible to get angry with such a jovial
fellow. As yet, however, they could see nothing. The Place de l'Hôtel
de Ville was full of surging heads, and echoed with continuous
cheering. Hats were waving in the distance, held aloft by hands which
were indistinguishable, and forming a huge black billow which slowly
rolled nearer and nearer. Then the occupants of the houses on the Quai
Napoléon, which fronted the Place, began to show signs of excitement.
They leant out of the windows, crowding against each other, with
beaming faces, and arms outstretched to call attention to something in
the direction of the Rue de Rivoli. For three minutes, which seemed
very long, however, the bridge still remained empty. The bells of Notre
Dame were ringing louder than ever, as though in some wild fit of
joyful excitement.
Suddenly the anxious multitude beheld a company of trumpeters upon
the empty bridge. There was a great sigh of expectation. Behind the
trumpeters and the mounted band which followed them, came a general,
escorted by his staff. Then, behind squadrons of carabineers,
dragoons and hussars, followed the state-carriages. There were eight
of them, each drawn by six horses. In those that came first sat the
ladies-in-waiting, the chamberlains, the officers of the household of
the Emperor and Empress, and the ladies in attendance upon the Grand
Duchess of Baden, who had been deputed to represent the young prince's
godmother. Gilquin, without letting go his hold of Madame Correur, told
her from behind that the godmother, the Queen of Sweden, had not put
herself out any more than the godfather had done. Then, as the seventh
and eighth carriages went past, he told her the names of those who
occupied them, with a glibness which bespoke great familiarity with
court matters. Those two ladies, he said, were the Princess Mathilde
and the Princess Marie. Those three gentlemen were King Jérôme, Prince
Napoleon and the Crown Prince of Sweden. The lady with them was the
Grand Duchess of Baden. Meanwhile, the procession swept on slowly. The
equerries and aides-de-camp and gentlemen-in-waiting all rode with
short reins to keep their horses at a walk.
'But where is the baby?' asked Madame Charbonnel impatiently.
'Oh! don't be frightened,' said Gilquin, with a laugh; 'they haven't
put him under a seat. Wait a little and you'll see him.'
So saying, he tightened his grasp round Madame Correur, who allowed him
to do so, she explained, because she was afraid of slipping into the
water. Then, growing enthusiastic over the display, he continued, while
his eyes glistened brightly: 'Isn't it really splendid? See how they
take their ease, the rascals, in their satin-quilted coaches! And to
think that I worked for all this!'
Then he began to puff himself out as though the procession, the crowd
and everything that was to be seen owed their origin to him. However,
after the temporary lull, caused by the appearance of the first
carriages, there came a tremendous uproar. It was upon the quay itself
now that hats were waving over the surging heads of the crowd. Six
imperial outriders, wearing green liveries and round caps, from which
dangled large gold tassels, had made their appearance on the bridge.
Then at last the Empress's carriage came in sight. It was drawn by
eight horses; and at each of its four corners there was a magnificent
lamp. Large and rounded, panelled almost entirely with glass, this
coach resembled a huge crystal casket with gold settings, mounted upon
golden wheels. Inside it, amidst a cloud of snowy lace, one could
clearly distinguish the rosy face of the Prince Imperial, carried
upon the knees of the Governess of the Children of France, by whose
side sat the wet nurse, a young, handsome, and buxom Burgundian. Then
a short distance behind, following a group of mounted equerries and
grooms on foot, came the Emperor's carriage, which also was drawn by
eight horses, and was as magnificent as the previous one. In it sat the
Emperor and Empress, who bowed to the people as they passed. Beside
these two last carriages rode several marshals of France, who, without
sign of impatience, let all the dust from the wheels settle on their
richly broidered uniforms.
'Just fancy if the bridge were to break down!' exclaimed Gilquin with a
grin. He was fond of indulging in the most awful suppositions.
Madame Correur, frightened at the thought of such a thing, tried to
stop him, but he would dwell on the subject, remarking that iron
bridges were never safe. He even asserted that he could see the
platform oscillating when the two carriages were but half-way across.
What a splash, he continued; if papa and mamma and baby went down they
would get such a drink as would keep them from ever wanting another!
The carriages, however, rolled softly and silently over the bridge,
and the frame-work of the gently-curving arch was so light that they
looked almost as though suspended in space over the river, in whose
blue depths they were reflected like strange gold-fishes, carried up by
the flow of the tide. The Emperor and Empress, feeling a little tired,
leaned back against the buttoned satin, glad to escape the crowd for
a moment and the necessity of bowing to it. The Governess, too, took
advantage of the stretch of empty space to raise the little prince,
who was slipping from her knees, while the nurse, leaning forward,
amused him with a smile. The whole procession was steeped in bright
sunshine. The uniforms, the gay gowns, and the horse-trappings shone
out brilliantly, while the sparkling planet-like coaches cast tremulous
beams of reflected sunlight along the fronts of the dingy houses on
the Quai Napoléon. In the distance, above the bridge, the colossal
advertisement of the giant grey overcoat, painted on the wall of a
six-storeyed house, and now illumined with radiant splendour by the
sun, formed a sort of background to the magnificent picture.
Gilquin noticed the overcoat just as it towered above the two
carriages. 'Look!' he cried, 'there's the uncle[7] over yonder!'
A laugh ran through the surrounding crowd. M. Charbonnel, who did not
catch the point, wanted to have it explained to him, but his request
was drowned by the deafening cheering and clapping of hands that arose
from the three hundred thousand people there pressed together. A mighty
thrill of enthusiasm had sped through the mass of sight-seers as the
little prince, followed by the Emperor and Empress, came into sight
on the middle of the bridge, of which they had a full, unbroken view.
Men rose on tip-toe, and set their dazed youngsters astride their
necks, while women wept or stammered out expressions of love for 'the
little darling,' showing a heartfelt sympathy with the happiness of the
imperial parents. A storm of shouts still rolled on from the Place de
l'Hôtel de Ville; and upon the quays, both up and down the river, there
was a forest of waving, outstretched arms. Handkerchiefs fluttered from
the windows, and men and women craned forward with glistening eyes
and gaping mouths. Away in the distance the windows of the Ile Saint
Louis, which looked like narrow streaks of charcoal, were lighted up
with white gleams and evidences of life too far away to be clearly
distinguished. However, the boatmen in red jackets stood up in the
middle of the river, where the current swept them along, and shouted
their loudest, while the washerwomen, leaning out of the windows of the
floating laundry, waved their bare arms excitedly, and, in their desire
to be heard, dealt blow after blow with their beetles till they nearly
broke them.
'There, it's all over!' exclaimed Gilquin; 'let us be off.'
The Charbonnels, however, wanted to see the end of everything. The
tail of the procession--squadrons of Cent Gardes, cuirassiers and
carabineers--was plunging into the Rue d'Arcole. Then there came a
scene of dreadful confusion. In several places people broke through the
double line of National Guards and regulars, and women began to scream.
'Come along! come along!' repeated Gilquin. 'We shall be crushed to
death!'
When he had deposited the ladies on the footway, he made them cross
the road in spite of the crowd. Madame Correur and the Charbonnels had
wanted to keep near the parapet, so as to make their way to the bridge
of Notre Dame and see what was happening on the Place du Parvis. But
Gilquin would not hear of it, and dragged them after him. When they
once more reached the little café, he gave them a push and made them
sit down again at the table which they had recently left.
'What perverse creatures you are!' he cried. 'Do you suppose that I
want to have my feet crushed by all those louts? We'll have something
to drink, we will! We are much better off here than in that crush.
We've had enough sight-seeing. It was beginning to get wearisome. Come,
old lady, what will you drink?'
The Charbonnels, upon whom he kept his perturbing eyes, began to make
timid objections. They would have liked to see the procession leave
the church. But Gilquin assured them that it would be best to give the
crowd time to disperse, and that he would take them to the church in a
quarter of an hour, if the crush was not too thick. However, while he
was telling Jules to bring a supply of cigars and beer, Madame Correur
prudently made her escape. 'Well, stay and rest yourselves a little,'
she said to the Charbonnels. 'You will find me over yonder by-and-bye.'
She made her way to the bridge of Notre Dame and then into the Rue de
la Cité. But the crush there was still so great that it took her a good
quarter of an hour to reach the Rue de Constantine. At last she made
a cut through the Rue de la Licorne and the Rue des Trois Canettes,
and in this way emerged upon the Place du Parvis, after losing at
the ventilator of a suspicious house one of the flounces of her
dove-coloured dress. Round the square, strewn with sand and flowers,
stood tall masts, from which hung banners bearing the imperial arms.
In front of the church a vast tent-shaped porch draped the stone-work
with curtains of crimson velvet, having fringes and tassels of gold.
Here Madame Correur was checked by a body of troops who kept back
the crowd. In the middle of the space from which the public had been
excluded, footmen were pacing up and down beside the carriages, which
were drawn up in five rows, their coachmen still occupying their seats
and holding their reins. As Madame Correur craned her head forward in
the hope of finding some gap through which she might pass, she caught
sight of Du Poizat quietly smoking a cigar in a corner of the square
among some of the footmen.
'Don't you think you could get me in?' she asked him, when she had
attracted his attention by waving her handkerchief.
Du Poizat went and spoke to an officer, and then led Madame Correur in
front of the church.
'If you'll take my advice,' he said to her, 'you'll stay here with me.
It's perfectly packed inside. I was nearly suffocated myself, and so
I came out. See, there are Colonel Jobelin and Monsieur Bouchard, who
have given up all hope of finding room.'
She looked and saw the two men on her left, near the Rue du Cloître
Notre Dame. M. Bouchard was saying that he had just left his wife in
charge of M. d'Escorailles, who had an excellent seat for a lady at his
disposal, while the colonel's chief regret seemed to be that he was not
able to explain the ceremony to his son Auguste.
'I much wished to show him the famous vase,' he said. 'It is, as you
know, the genuine vase of Saint Louis--a vase of copper, damascened
and ornamented with niello work in the most perfect Persian manner.
It is a relic of the times of the Crusades, and has been used at the
christenings of all our kings ever since.'
'Did you see all the insignia?' M. Bouchard asked Du Poizat.
'Yes,' replied the latter. 'Madame de Llorentz was carrying the
chrisom.'
Then he entered into details. The chrisom was the christening cloth,
a fact of which neither of the men had been aware. But Du Poizat
went on to enumerate, not only the insignia of the Prince Imperial,
the chrisom, the candle and the salt-cellar, but the insignia of the
godfather and godmother, the basin, the ewer and the towel, all of
which were carried by ladies-in-waiting. Then there was also the
little prince's mantle, a most magnificent and wonderful mantle, which
was hung over an arm-chair near the font.
'Isn't there really the smallest corner where I could squeeze myself?'
cried Madame Correur, in whom all these details had roused a fever of
curiosity.
Then they told her of all the great state bodies and high officials
and innumerable deputations that they had seen pass. It was an almost
endless procession, they said; the Diplomatic body, the Senate,
the Corps Législatif, the Council of State, the Supreme Court, the
Exchequer Court, the Appeal Court, the Tribunals of Commerce and of
First Instance; to say nothing of the ministers, the prefects, the
mayors and their deputies, the academicians, the general officers,
and a host of others, including even delegates from the Jewish and
Protestant consistories.
'Oh! what a splendid sight it must be!' Madame Correur exclaimed with a
sigh.
Du Poizat shrugged his shoulders. He was in a very bad humour. All
those people bored him, he said, and he seemed irritated by the length
of the ceremony. How much longer would they be? They had sung the _Veni
Creator_ and had censed themselves and walked about and saluted one
another. Surely the child must be christened by this time!
Meanwhile M. Bouchard and the colonel manifested greater patience and
examined the decorated windows of the square; then, as a sudden peal
of the bells shook the towers, they turned their heads and quivered
uneasily at their close proximity to the huge church, whose summit they
could not even discern in the sky. However, Auguste had slipped towards
the porch, whither Madame Correur followed him. But when she reached
the great door, which was wide open, the magnificent sight she beheld
kept her rooted to the ground.
Between the two great curtains of the porch the church appeared like
a vision of some superhuman temple. The vaulted arches, of a soft
blue, were spangled with stars. Around this wondrous firmament the
stained-glass windows gleamed like mystic planets, sparkling with
burning jewels. From the lofty pillars on all sides hung drapery of
crimson velvet, which still further shut the daylight out of the
usually dim nave; and in the centre of this roseate twilight there
blazed a multitude of tapers--thousands of tapers--so closely crowded
that they seemed like a great sun flaming out amidst a rain of stars.
This blaze was that of the altar, set on a platform in the centre of
the transept. Thrones were placed on the right and left of it. Over
the higher of the two thrones a spreading canopy of velvet lined with
ermine showed like a huge bird with snowy breast and purple wings.
The church was filled with a glittering crowd, bright with gold and
jewels. Near the altar a group of clergy, bishops with mitres and
croziers, formed, as it were, a glory, one of those dazzling splendours
which suggest heaven itself. Around the altar princes, princesses and
great dignitaries were ranged in sovereign pomp and circumstance.
Then tiers of seats had been set up in the arms of the transept, for
the Diplomatic body and the Senate, on the right, and for the Corps
Législatif and the Council of State on the left; while representative
bodies of every kind crowded the rest of the nave, and ladies displayed
their bright, variegated gowns in the galleries above. A sanguineous
haze floated over everything. The heads which showed in tiers on all
sides had the roseate hue of painted porcelain. The dresses, the satin
and silk and velvet, glowed with a dull splendour as though they would
soon burst into a blaze. Rows of people suddenly seemed to flare. The
whole deep church was like some wondrous furnace.
Then Madame Correur saw an assistant master of the ceremonies advance
to the centre of the choir, where he thrice shouted energetically:
'Long live the Prince Imperial! Long live the Prince Imperial! Long
live the Prince Imperial!'
And as the lofty arches shook with a mighty acclamation, Madame Correur
saw the Emperor standing on the altar steps overlooking the throng. He
stood out black and distinct against the background of blazing gold
which the bishops formed behind him. He was presenting the Prince
Imperial to the people, holding the infant, who seemed a mere bundle of
white lace, aloft in his upstretched arms.
But a beadle suddenly motioned to Madame Correur to retire. She took
a couple of steps backwards, and the next moment saw nothing but one
of the curtains of the porch. The vision had disappeared. The bright
daylight made her blink, and for an instant she remained confused, half
fancying that she had been gazing upon some old picture like those
in the Louvre, some picture baked by age, purpled and gilded, and
depicting people of a past-away time, such as one no longer met in the
streets.
'Don't stop there,' Du Poizat said to her, as he led her back to the
colonel and M. Bouchard.
The latter were now discussing the floods, which had caused terrible
destruction in the valleys of the Rhone and the Loire. Thousands of
families had been rendered homeless. The subscriptions which had been
opened on all sides were insufficient for the relief of such great
distress. However, they asserted that the Emperor had exhibited most
admirable courage and generosity. At Lyons he had been seen fording the
low parts of the inundated city, and at Tours he had spent three hours
rowing in a boat through the submerged streets; and everywhere he had
lavishly distributed alms.
'Ah, listen!' interrupted the colonel.
The organ was now pealing through the church, and a sonorous chant
rolled through the porch, whose curtains swayed as the great gust of
sound swept out.
'It is the _Te Deum_!' exclaimed M. Bouchard.
Du Poizat heaved a sigh of relief. They were getting to an end at last!
M. Bouchard, however, informed him that the registers had yet to be
signed, and, afterwards, the Cardinal-Legate would have to give the
pontifical benediction. Some of the congregation were, however, already
leaving. Rougon was one of the first to appear, giving his arm to a
lady of slight build, who had a sallow complexion, and was very plainly
dressed. They were accompanied by a personage who wore the dress of a
president of an Appeal Court.
'Who are those?' asked Madame Correur.
Du Poizat told her their names. M. Beulin-d'Orchère, the president, had
become acquainted with Rougon some time before the Coup d'État, and had
manifested much esteem for him since that period, without, however,
attempting to establish any close intimacy. Mademoiselle Véronique,
his sister, lived with him in a house in the Rue Garancière, which she
seldom left except to attend low mass at Saint Sulpice.
'Ah!' said the colonel, lowering his voice, 'that is the wife for
Rougon!'
'Exactly,' assented M. Bouchard. 'She has got a suitable fortune; her
family is good, and she is a steady-going woman of experience. He will
never find a wife more fitted for him.'
Du Poizat, however, protested. The lady, he said, was as over-ripe as a
forgotten medlar. She was at least thirty-six years of age, and looked
forty. A nice broom-handle in all truth! A devotee with hair brushed
smooth and smug! As faded and as washed-out as though she had been
soaking her head in holy water for the last six months!
'You are young,' rejoined the head-clerk, gravely. 'Rougon ought to
make a sensible marriage. I myself married for love, but that does not
succeed with everyone.'
'Oh! I don't apprehend any danger from the lady herself,' continued
Du Poizat; 'it's Beulin-d'Orchère's look that alarms me. He's got a
regular dog's jaw. Just look at him with his heavy muzzle and forest
of woolly hair, without a single silver thread in it, in spite of his
fifty years. What's he thinking about, I wonder? Why does he still
drive his sister into Rougon's arms now that our friend is out of
favour?'
M. Bouchard and the colonel kept silent, and exchanged uneasy glances.
Was 'the dog,' as the ex-sub-prefect called him, going to make Rougon
his own prey?
However, Madame Correur slowly opined: 'It is a good thing to have the
judicial bench on one's side.'
Meantime, Rougon was conducting Mademoiselle Véronique to her carriage,
and, before she got into it, he bowed to her. Just at that moment the
fair Clorinde came out of the church, leaning upon Delestang's arm.
She became quite grave, and cast a fiery glance at that tall sallow
creature, the door of whose carriage Rougon was gallantly closing,
notwithstanding his senatorial uniform. And as soon as the carriage had
gone off, Clorinde dropped Delestang's arm, and stepped straight up
to the great man, breaking out into her old gay laugh. All the others
followed.
'I have lost my mother!' merrily said the girl to Rougon. 'She has been
carried off somewhere in the crowd. Will you give me a little corner in
your brougham?'
At this Delestang, who had hoped to take her home, seemed very much
annoyed. She was wearing a dress of orange silk, brocaded with
such showy flowers that the very footmen stared at her. Rougon had
immediately granted her request, but they had to wait for the brougham
for another ten minutes. And they all remained standing where they
were, even Delestang, though his carriage was in the first row, only
a yard or two away. In the meanwhile the congregation continued to
leave the church. M. Kahn and M. Béjuin, who were passing, came up and
joined the group. And as the great man shook hands in a listless way,
and looked somewhat out of sorts, M. Kahn asked with anxious concern:
'Aren't you feeling well?'
'Oh, yes,' he answered, 'but those lights inside there rather dazed
me.' He remained silent for a moment, and then continued in a low
voice: 'It was a splendid sight. I never saw such an expression of
happiness upon a man's face before.'
He was referring to the Emperor, and, as he spoke, he slowly spread
out his arms with a sweeping majestic gesture, as though he were
recalling the scene in the church. But he added not a word, and the
others likewise kept silence. They formed quite a little group in a
corner of the square. In front of them the stream of people leaving
the church grew larger; there were judges in their robes, officers and
functionaries in full uniform, a crowd of belaced and bedizened and
decorated personages who trod over the flowers strewing the square,
amidst the calls of footmen and sudden rolling of carriage-wheels.
The soaring glory of the Empire blazed, as it were, in the crimson
of the setting sun; and the towers of Notre Dame, all roseate and
musical, seemed to attest the lofty peace and greatness to which the
future reign of the child, baptized beneath their shadow, would some
day attain. But in Rougon's group, the splendour of the ceremony, the
pealing bells, the streaming banners, and the enthusiasm of the city
only aroused feelings of envy and desire. For the first time Rougon
himself felt the chilly weight of the disfavour into which he had
fallen. His face was very pale, and, as he stood there deep in thought,
he envied the Emperor.