engrossed Clorinde's thoughts. One day when he was left alone for a
few moments with her famous portfolio, he had not scrupled to pull
out some letters which protruded through its gaps. But all that he
could find out in one fashion or another seemed to him so incoherent
and disconnected that he smiled at the young woman's pretensions to
politics. One afternoon, however, she quietly began to expound to him
a vast scheme. She was working to bring about an alliance between
France and Italy, in view of a speedy campaign against Austria. Rougon,
who for a moment was very much struck by this, ended by shrugging his
shoulders at the heap of absurdities which found place in her plan.
He had in no way modified his opinion about women. Clorinde, on her
side, so far as he was concerned, seemed to accept the subordinate
position of a disciple quite willingly. When she went to see him
in the Rue Marbeuf, she assumed an air of submissive humility, and
questioned him, and listened to him with the eagerness of a neophyte
anxious for instruction. For his part, he frequently forgot to whom
he was speaking, and unfolded his theory of government, and talked to
her in the most unrestrained and confidential manner. In fact, their
conversations gradually became a regular habit, and he made her his
confidante, breaking the silence which he observed in the presence
of his best friends, and treating her like a discreet pupil, whose
respectful admiration had a great charm for him.
During the months of August and September, Clorinde increased the
frequency of her visits. She would call on Rougon three or four times a
week, and never had she shown herself so gentle and affectionate. She
paid him the most flattering compliments, eulogised his genius, and
spoke regretfully of the great things which he would have accomplished
if he had not retired. One day, as an idea flashed through his mind, he
said to her with a laugh: 'There's something you want me to do for you?'
'Yes,' she replied candidly.
But she quickly reassumed her expression of admiring wonder. Politics
were much more interesting than novels, she declared. However, whenever
Rougon turned his back for a moment, she would open her eyes quite
widely, and a momentary gleam would flash from them, suggesting some
old feeling of bitterness which still lived on. She often let her hands
linger in his, as though she still felt too weak for what she was
contemplating, and was waiting till she had drained away sufficient of
his strength to be able to throttle him.
However, his increasing lassitude at this juncture was really a source
of much uneasiness to her. He seemed to be falling fast asleep amidst
his boredom. She had made, at first, full allowance for all possible
pretence which there might be in his demeanour, but was at length
forced to believe that he really did feel discouraged. His movements
had grown sluggish, and his voice languid; and sometimes he seemed so
listless and indifferent that the young woman felt quite alarmed, and
seriously wondered if he were not going to abide by his relegation to
the Senate as a played-out politician.
Towards the end of September, however, Rougon seemed very thoughtful.
At last, in one of his customary conversations with Clorinde, he told
her that he was maturing a great scheme. He was growing weary of Paris,
and needed fresh air. Then all at once he spoke out. It was a great
scheme of an altogether fresh life: a voluntary exile to the Landes
of Gascony, the clearing of several square leagues of ground, and the
founding of a new town amidst the conquered territory. Clorinde turned
quite pale as she listened to him.
'But your position here!' she cried; 'your prospects!'
'Bah! castles in the air!' he said disdainfully. 'I have come to the
conclusion that I am not cut out for politics.'
Then he reverted to his pet idea of being a great landowner, with herds
of cattle which he would rule in all sovereignty. But his ambition was
now greater. In the Landes of Gascony he would be like the conquering
king of a new territory. He would have a people under him. He gave
Clorinde all kinds of particulars. For the last fortnight, without
saying a word to anyone, he had been reading technical treatises. And
in imagination he had been reclaiming marshes, clearing the soil of
stones with the aid of powerful machines, checking the advance of the
sandhills by plantations of pines, and dowering France with a tract of
wondrously fertile country. All his dormant activity, all his latent
giant's strength, awoke within him at the thought of this undertaking.
He clenched his fists as though he were already face to face with
rebellious rocks. In imagination he turned the whole soil over at a
single stroke; carried houses completely built on his shoulders, and
dropped them as his fancy listed on the banks of some river, whose bed
he had hollowed out by a single kick of his foot. It all seemed so
easy, and it would give him the work he so much desired. The Emperor,
no doubt, still retained sufficient good-will towards him to let him
reclaim those waste lands. And erect, bracing up his big form, and with
his cheeks aglow, he burst into a proud laugh: 'It is a magnificent
idea!' he cried. 'I shall give my name to the town, and I, too, shall
found a little Empire!'
Clorinde imagined that it was all a mere caprice, a whim born of the
boredom in which he was struggling. But when they subsequently met,
Rougon again spoke of his scheme with even greater enthusiasm than
before. Each time she came to see him, she found him amidst a litter
of maps strewn over the desk, the chairs, and the carpet alike. One
afternoon she was not able to see him, as he was conferring with two
engineers. Thereupon she began to feel really alarmed. Could he really
mean to give her the slip like that and go off and found this town
of his in the wilderness? Wasn't it rather some new stratagem he was
arranging? However, she relinquished her endeavours to ascertain the
truth, and thought it best to give the alarm to the whole band.
There was great consternation. Du Poizat flew into a passion. For more
than a year now he had been living by shifts, and on his last journey
to La Vendée his father had hastily taken a pistol from a drawer on his
venturing to ask him for ten thousand francs to float a magnificent
speculation. So now the ex-sub-prefect was half-starving again just as
in 1848. M. Kahn showed equal anger. His blast-furnaces at Bressuire
were being threatened with speedy ruin, and he felt that he would be
lost if he could not obtain the railway grant within the next six
months. All the others, M. Béjuin, the colonel, the Bouchards, and the
Charbonnels, were similarly upset. Things could not possibly be allowed
to end like that, they cried. Really, such conduct on Rougon's part was
not reasonable. They must talk to him about it.
A fortnight, however, went by. Clorinde, whose ideas were approved by
the whole band, had come to the conclusion that it would be hazardous
to make an open attack on the great man. They must wait for a fitting
opportunity. This they did, and one Sunday evening, towards the middle
of October, when they were all assembled in the drawing-room in the Rue
Marbeuf, Rougon smilingly remarked to them: 'You'd never guess what I
received to-day.'
Then he took a pink card from behind the timepiece and showed it to
them. 'An invitation to Compiègne, from the Emperor,' he said.
At this moment his valet quietly opened the door, and told him that the
gentleman he was expecting had arrived. Rougon excused himself and left
the room. Clorinde had risen to her feet and stood there listening.
Then, as silence fell, she exclaimed, energetically: 'He must go to
Compiègne!'
The friends glanced round suspiciously; but they were quite alone.
Madame Rougon had gone off some minutes previously. And so in low
voices, and with their eyes fixed on the doors, they began to speak
their minds. The ladies were gathered in a circle in front of the
fire-place, where a huge log was smouldering. M. Bouchard and the
colonel were busy with their everlasting piquet, while the other men
had wheeled their chairs into a corner to isolate themselves. Clorinde
alone remained standing in the middle of the room, her head bent as if
deep in thought.
'He was expecting somebody, then?' began Du Poizat. 'Who can it be, I
wonder?'
The others shrugged their shoulders, as if to say that they did not
know.
'Something to do with this idiotic scheme of his, perhaps,' continued
the ex-sub-prefect. 'One of these evenings, you'll see, I shall tell
him plainly what I think of him.'
'Hush!' exclaimed M. Kahn, raising his finger to his lips.
Du Poizat had raised his voice in an alarming way. For a moment they
all strained their ears to listen. Then M. Kahn himself said in a very
low tone: 'There is no doubt but what he has pledged himself to us.'
'Say, rather, that he has contracted a debt,' interposed the colonel,
laying down his cards.
'Yes, yes; a debt; that is the word,' declared M. Bouchard. 'We didn't
mince matters that last day at the Council of State.'
All the others nodded assent. There was a general lamentation. Rougon
had ruined them. M. Bouchard added, that if it had not been for his
fidelity, he would have got his promotion long ago; and, to hear the
colonel talk, anyone would have imagined that he had been offered a
commander's cross, and a post for his son Auguste, on the part of M.
de Marsy, and that he had simply refused them out of friendship for
Rougon. M. d'Escorailles' parents, said pretty Madame Bouchard, were
much disappointed at seeing their son remain a mere auditor when for
the last six months they had been expecting his promotion to higher
rank. Even those who said nothing, Delestang, M. Béjuin, Madame
Correur, and the Charbonnels, bit their lips and raised their eyes
to heaven with the expression of martyrs whose patience was at last
beginning to fail them.
'Well, the long and the short of it is that we are being defrauded,'
cried Du Poizat. 'But he shall not go away; I answer for that! Is there
any sense in a man setting off and struggling with stones when there
are such serious interests to keep him in Paris? Are you willing that I
should speak to him?'
Clorinde now awoke from her reverie. She waved her hand to obtain
silence; and after opening the door to see that there was no one
outside, she repeated: 'I tell you that he must go to Compiègne!'
Then, as every face turned towards her, she checked all questions with
another wave of her hand: 'Hush! not here!'
She told them, however, that she and her husband had also been invited
to Compiègne, and she made some mention of M. de Marsy and Madame de
Llorentz without consenting to enter into further details. However,
they would push the great man into power in spite of himself, she said;
they would compromise him, if he drove them to it. M. Beulin-d'Orchère
and the whole judicial bench secretly supported him; and M. La
Rouquette had confessed that the Emperor, amidst all the hatred
expressed against Rougon by those who surrounded him, had kept absolute
silence on the matter. Whenever the great man's name was mentioned in
his presence, he became serious and lowered his eyes.
'It is not we alone who are concerned,' M. Kahn now declared. 'If we
succeed, the whole country will owe us thanks.'
Then, raising their voices, they all began to sing the praises of the
master of the house. A buzz of conversation in an adjoining room had
just become audible. Du Poizat was so carried away by curiosity, that
he pushed the door open as though he were going out, and then closed it
again with sufficient deliberation to take a look at the man who was
speaking with Rougon. It was Gilquin, wearing a heavy overcoat in good
condition, and holding in his hand a stout cane with a knob of yellow
metal. He was saying in his full voice, with exaggerated familiarity:
'Don't send any more, you understand, to the Rue Virginie at Grenelle.
I'm at Batignolles now, Passage Guttin. Well, you can reckon upon me.
Good-bye for the present.'
Then he shook hands with Rougon.
When the latter returned to the drawing-room he apologised for his
absence, but gave Du Poizat a keen glance: 'A good fellow, whom you
know, Du Poizat, don't you?' said he. 'He is going to enlist some
colonists for my new world in the Landes. By the way, I mean to take
you all with me; so you had better get your things together. Kahn shall
be my Prime Minister. Delestang and his wife shall have the portfolio
of Foreign Affairs. Béjuin shall be Postmaster. And I won't forget the
ladies. Madame Bouchard shall be Queen of Beauty, and I'll give the
keys of our store-rooms to Madame Charbonnel.'
In this wise he playfully rattled on, while his friends, very ill at
ease, were wondering if he had perchance heard them through some chink
or other. When he proceeded to say that he would decorate the colonel
with all the orders in his gift, the latter almost lost his temper.
Clorinde, however, was looking at the invitation to Compiègne which she
had taken from off the mantelpiece.
'Do you mean to go?' she asked, with an appearance of unconcern.
'Oh, no doubt,' replied Rougon, surprised at the question. 'I mean to
take advantage of the opportunity to get the Emperor to give me my
department.'
Just then ten o'clock struck, and Madame Rougon returned to the room
and served tea.
VII
AT COURT
Towards seven o'clock on the evening of her arrival at Compiègne,
Clorinde was engaged in conversation with M. de Plouguern near one
of the windows in the Gallery of the Maps. They were waiting for
the Emperor and Empress before entering the dining-room. The second
batch of the season's guests had scarcely been more than three hours
at the château, and all of them had not yet come down from their
rooms. Clorinde occupied herself by briefly criticising them as they
entered the gallery, one by one. The ladies, in low dresses, and
wearing flowers in their hair, put on smiles as soon as they reached
the threshold; while the gentlemen, wearing white cravats, black
knee-breeches, and silk stockings, preserved a solemn air.
'Ah; here comes the Chevalier!' muttered Clorinde. 'He looks very nice,
doesn't he? But just look at M. Beulin-d'Orchère, godfather! Doesn't he
look as though he were going to bark? And, good heavens, what legs!'
M. de Plouguern began to grin, much amused by this backbiting.
Chevalier Rusconi came up and bowed to Clorinde, with the languid
gallantry of a handsome Italian; then he made the round of the ladies,
swaying to and fro with a series of gentle rhythmical reverences. A few
yards away, Delestang, looking very serious, was examining the huge
maps of the Forest of Compiègne, which covered the walls of the gallery.
'Whereabouts in the train were you?' Clorinde continued. 'I looked out
for you at the station, so that we might travel together. Just fancy,
I was squeezed up with a whole crowd of men.' Then she stopped, and
stifled a laugh with her fingers. 'How demure Monsieur La Rouquette
looks!' said she.
'Yes, indeed; he's like a simpering schoolgirl,' rejoined the senator
sarcastically.
Just at that moment a loud rustling was heard by the door, which was
thrown wide open to admit a lady wearing a dress which was so lavishly
adorned with bows and flowers and lace, that she had to press it down
with both hands in order to get through. It was Madame de Combelot,
Clorinde's sister-in-law. The latter stared at her, and murmured: 'Good
gracious!'
Then, as M. de Plouguern glanced at her own dress of simple tarlatan,
worn over an ill-cut under-skirt of rose-silk, she continued, with an
air of complete unconcern: 'Ah! I don't care about dress, godfather!
People must take me, you know, as I am.'
Delestang, however, had quitted the maps, and after joining his sister,
led her to his wife. The two women were not particularly fond of each
other, and exchanged rather stiff greetings. Then Madame de Combelot
walked off, dragging her satin train, which looked like a strip of
flower garden, through the clusters of silent men, who stepped back
out of the way of this flood of lace flounces. Clorinde, as soon as
she was alone again with M. de Plouguern, referred playfully to the
lady's great passion for the Emperor. And when the old senator had told
her that there was no reciprocal feeling on the Emperor's part, she
continued: 'Well, there's no great merit in that; she's so dreadfully
lean. I have been told that some men consider her good-looking, but I
don't know why. She has absolutely no figure at all.'
While talking in this strain, Clorinde none the less kept her eyes upon
the door. 'Ah! this time it must surely be Monsieur Rougon,' she said
as it opened again. But, almost immediately, she resumed with a flash
in her eyes: 'Ah, no! it is Monsieur de Marsy.'
The minister, looking quite irreproachable in his black dress-coat and
knee-breeches, stepped up to Madame de Combelot with a smile, and while
he was paying compliments to her, he glanced round at the assembled
guests, blinking his eyes as though he recognised no one. But, as they
began to bow to him, he inclined his head with an expression of great
amiability. Several men approached him, and he soon became the centre
of a group. His pale face, with its subtle cunning air, towered over
the shoulders clustering round him.
'By the way,' said Clorinde, pushing M. de Plouguern into a
window-recess, 'I have been relying upon you for some information. What
do you know about Madame de Llorentz's famous letters?'
'Only what all the world knows,' replied the old senator.
Then he began to speak of the famous three letters which had been
written, it was said, by Count de Marsy to Madame de Llorentz nearly
five years previously, a short time before the Emperor's marriage.
Madame de Llorentz, who had just lost her husband, a general of Spanish
origin, was then at Madrid, looking after her deceased husband's
affairs. It was the heyday of her connection with Marsy, who, to amuse
her, and yielding to his own sportive proclivities, had sent her some
very piquant details concerning certain august personages with whom
he was living on intimate terms. And it was asserted that Madame de
Llorentz, who was an extremely jealous beauty, had carefully preserved
these letters, and kept them hanging over M. de Marsy's head as an
ever-ready means of vengeance, should he presume to wander in his
affections.
'She allowed herself to be talked over,' continued M. de Plouguern,
'when Marsy had to marry the Wallachian princess; but, after consenting
to their spending a month's honeymoon together, she gave him to
understand that if he did not return to her feet, she would some day
lay the three terrible letters on the Emperor's desk. So he has taken
up his fetters again, and lavishes the most loving attention upon her
in the hope that he may get her to give these letters up.'
Clorinde laughed heartily; the story amused her, and she began to
ask all sorts of questions. If the Count should deceive Madame de
Llorentz, would she really carry her threat into execution? Where
did she keep those letters? Was it really in the bosom of her dress,
stitched between two pieces of satin ribbon, as some people said? M.
de Plouguern, however, could give no further information. No one but
Madame de Llorentz herself had ever read the letters; but he knew a
young man who had vainly made himself her humble slave for nearly six
months in the hope of being able to get a copy of them.
'But look at Marsy,' he continued, 'he never takes his eyes off you.
Ah! I had forgotten; you have made a conquest of him. Is it true that,
at the last soirée at the ministry, he remained talking to you for
nearly an hour?'
The young woman made no reply. Indeed she was not listening, but stood
majestic and motionless under M. de Marsy's steady gaze. Then slowly
raising her head and looking at him in her turn, she waited for him
to bow to her. He thereupon stepped up, and she smiled upon him very
sweetly. They did not, however, exchange a word. The Count went back to
the group he had left, in which M. La Rouquette now was talking very
loudly, perpetually speaking of him as 'His Excellency.'
The gallery had gradually filled. There were nearly a hundred persons
present: high functionaries, generals, foreign diplomatists, five
deputies, three prefects, two painters, a novelist, and a couple of
academicians, to say nothing of the court officials, the chamberlains,
and the aides-de-camp and equerries. A subdued murmur of voices arose
amid the glare of the chandeliers. Those who were familiar with the
château paced slowly up and down, while those who had been asked
there for the first time remained where they stood, too timid to
venture among the ladies. The want of ease which for the first hour
or so prevailed among these guests, many of whom were unacquainted
with one another, but who found themselves suddenly assembled in the
ante-chamber of the Imperial dining-room, gave to their faces an
expression of sullen reserve. Every now and then there were sudden
intervals of silence, and heads turned anxiously round. The very
furniture of the spacious apartment, the pier tables with straight
legs, and the square chairs, all in the stiff First Empire style,
seemed to impart additional solemnity to this spell of waiting.
'Here he comes at last!' murmured Clorinde.
Rougon had just entered and stood still for a moment, blinking. He
had donned his expression of good natured simplicity; his back was
slightly bent, and his face had a sleepy look. He noticed at a glance
the faint tremor of hostility which thrilled some of the guests at his
appearance. However, in quiet fashion, shaking hands here and there,
he steered his way so as to come face to face with M. de Marsy. They
bowed to one another, and seemed delighted to meet; and they began to
talk in very friendly fashion, though they kept their eyes on each
other like foes who respected each other's strength. An empty space had
been cleared around them. The ladies watched their slightest gestures
with interest; while the men, affecting great discretion, pretended to
look in another direction, though every now and then they cast furtive
glances at them. Much whispering went on in different corners of the
room. What secret plan had the Emperor got in his head? Why had he
brought those two men together? M. La Rouquette felt sorely perplexed,
but fancied he could scent some very grave business. So he went up to
M. de Plouguern, and began to question him. But the old senator gave
rein to his jocosity. 'Oh,' said he, 'perhaps Rougon is going to upset
Marsy, so it is as well to treat him deferentially. On the other hand,
perhaps the Emperor merely wanted to see them together, in the hope
that something amusing might happen.'
However, the whispering ceased, and there was a general stir. Two
officers of the household went from group to group saying something in
low tones. Then the guests, who had suddenly become serious again, made
their way towards the door on the left, where they formed themselves
into a double line, the men on one side and the ladies on the other. M.
de Marsy posted himself near the door, keeping Rougon by his side; and
the rest of the company ranged themselves in the order of their rank.
Then, keeping perfect silence, they continued waiting for another three
minutes.
At last the folding-doors were thrown wide open. The Emperor, in full
dress, and wearing the red ribbon of the Legion of Honour across his
chest, came into the room first, followed by the chamberlain on duty,
M. de Combelot. He smiled slightly as he stopped before M. de Marsy
and Rougon, swaying slightly, and slowly twisting his long moustache,
as, in an embarrassed tone, he said: 'You must tell Madame Rougon how
extremely sorry we were to hear that she was ill. We should have much
liked to see her here with you. We must hope that she will very soon be
well again. There are a great many colds about just now.'
Then he passed on. After taking a few steps, however, he stopped to
shake hands with a general, asking him after his son, whom he called
'my little friend Gaston.' Gaston was of the same age as the Prince
Imperial, but was already much more vigorous. The guests bowed as the
Emperor passed them. When he had got to the end of the line, M. de
Combelot presented to him one of the two academicians, who had come
to Court for the first time. The Emperor spoke of a recent work which
this writer had issued, and declared that certain passages of it had
afforded him the greatest pleasure.
By this time the Empress Eugénie had also entered the room, attended
by Madame de Llorentz. She was dressed very simply in a blue silk gown
with a tunic of white lace, and she advanced with slow steps, smiling
towards the ladies and graciously inclining her bare neck, from which
a diamond heart was suspended by a ribbon of blue velvet. The ladies
curtsied to her with much rustling and spreading of their skirts, from
which rose strong perfumes. Madame de Llorentz presented a young woman,
who seemed deeply moved; whereas Madame de Combelot put on an air of
affectionate familiarity.