tea in the private apartments of the Empress. This was a favour which
was usually granted to men of interesting and witty conversation.
He found M. Beulin-d'Orchère and M. de Plouguern already there. The
latter was relating a somewhat improper story in carefully-chosen
words, and his narrative achieved enormous success. Only a few of the
hunting-party had as yet returned. Madame de Combelot came in, saying
that she felt dreadfully tired, and when the company asked her how
matters had gone off, she replied with an affectation of semi-technical
jargon: 'Oh, the animal beat us off for more than four hours. For a
time he unharboured in the open. But at last he turned to bay near the
Red Pool, and the death was superb.'
Then Chevalier Rusconi mentioned another incident with some uneasiness.
'Madame Delestang's horse bolted,' he said. 'She disappeared in the
direction of Pierrefonds, and nothing has since been seen or heard of
her.'
He was at once overwhelmed with questions, and the Empress seemed much
distressed. He said that Clorinde had kept up a tremendous pace all the
time, and had excited the admiration of the most experienced riders.
All at once, however, her horse had bolted down a side lane.
'She had been dreadfully whipping the poor animal,' interposed M.
La Rouquette, who was burning to get a word in. 'Monsieur de Marsy
galloped off to her assistance, and he, also, has not been seen since.'
At this, Madame de Llorentz, who sat behind her Majesty, rose from
her seat. She fancied that some of the company were looking at her
and smiling, and she became quite livid. The conversation had turned
upon the dangers of hunting. One day, said one of the guests, the stag
had run into a farm-yard, and had then turned and charged the hounds
so suddenly that a lady had her leg broken amidst the confusion. Then
the company began to indulge in various suppositions. If M. de Marsy
had succeeded in checking Madame Delestang's horse, they had, perhaps,
both dismounted for a few minutes' rest; there were a large number of
shelter places, huts and sheds and pavilions, in the forest. However,
it seemed to Madame de Llorentz that this suggestion prompted more
smiling, and that the others were stealthily eyeing her jealous anger.
As for Rougon, he kept silent, but beat a feverish tattoo on his knees
with his finger tips.
The Empress had given orders that Clorinde should be asked to come
and have some tea as soon as she returned. And all at once there was
a chorus of exclamations. The young woman appeared on the threshold,
with a flushed, smiling, radiant face. She thanked her Majesty for
the concern which she showed about her, and then calmly continued: 'I
am so sorry. You really shouldn't have made yourselves uneasy. I made
a bet with Monsieur de Marsy that I would be in at the death before
he was. And so I should if it hadn't been for that provoking horse
of mine.' Then she added gaily: 'Well, we neither of us lost, after
all.' However, they made her tell them her adventure in detail, which
she did, without the least sign of confusion. After a mad gallop of
ten minutes or so, her horse had fallen, she said, but she herself
had sustained no hurt. Then, as she was trembling a little from the
excitement, M. de Marsy had taken her for a moment into a shed.
'Ah, we guessed that!' exclaimed M. La Rouquette. 'You said a shed,
didn't you? I myself mentioned a pavilion.'
'It must have been a very uncomfortable place,' said M. de Plouguern
mischievously.
Clorinde, without ceasing to smile, replied slowly: 'Oh, dear no, I
assure you. There was some straw, and I sat down. It was a big shed
full of spiders' webs. It was growing dark, too. Oh! it was very
droll.' Then, looking in Madame de Llorentz's face, and speaking with
still more deliberation, she added: 'Monsieur de Marsy was extremely
kind to me.'
While Clorinde had been narrating this story, Madame de Llorentz had
kept two fingers closely pressed to her lips, and on hearing the
conclusion she shut her eyes as if dazed by anger. She remained thus
for another minute; and then, feeling that she could contain herself
no further, she left the room. M. de Plouguern, curious as to her
intentions, slipped away after her. As for Clorinde, when she saw
Madame de Llorentz disappear, an involuntary expression of victory
appeared upon her face.
The conversation now turned upon other subjects. M. Beulin-d'Orchère
began to speak of a scandalous lawsuit which was exciting a deal of
public interest. It was a wife's application for a judicial separation
from her husband; and he gave certain particulars of the affair in
such delicately couched language that Madame de Combelot did not fully
understand him, but asked for explanations. Chevalier Rusconi then
afforded the company much pleasure by softly singing some popular
Piedmontese love songs, which he afterwards translated into French.
In the middle of one of these songs Delestang entered the room. He
had just returned from the forest, which he had been scouring for the
last two hours in search of his wife. His strange appearance excited a
general smile. The Empress seemed to have taken a sudden friendship for
Clorinde, for she had made her sit beside her and was talking to her
about horses. Pyrame, the horse which the young woman had been riding,
was a hard goer, said the Empress; and she promised that she should
have César on the following day.
On Clorinde's arrival, Rougon had gone to one of the windows, feigning
great interest in some lights which were gleaming in the distance to
the left of the park. As he stood there no one could detect the slight
quivering of his features. He remained thus, looking out into the
darkness, for a long time, only turning when M. de Plouguern came back
into the room and stepped up to him.
Rougon remained quite impassive as the other whispered in his ear, in
a voice feverish with satisfied curiosity: 'There has been a terrible
scene! I followed her out of the room. She met Marsy at the end of
the corridor. They both went into a room together, and I heard Marsy
telling her roundly that she bored him to death. She rushed out again
like a mad woman, and went off towards the Emperor's study. I feel sure
that she went to lay those famous letters on his desk.'
Just at that moment Madame de Llorentz reappeared. She was very pale;
some of her hair strayed over her brow, and she panted. However, she
resumed her seat behind the Empress with the despairing calmness of one
who has just performed on herself some terrible operation which may
have a fatal result.
'I'm sure she has taken the letters,' said M. de Plouguern, examining
her.
Then, as Rougon did not seem to understand him, he left him; and,
stooping behind Clorinde, began to tell her his story. She listened to
him with delight, her eyes sparkling. It was not until the approach
of the dinner-hour, when the company quitted the Empress's private
room, that she appeared conscious of Rougon's presence. Then she took
his arm and said to him, as Delestang followed on behind: 'Well now,
you see----If you had been more amiable this morning, I shouldn't have
nearly broken my legs.'
That evening the offal of the stag was distributed by torchlight to the
hounds in the courtyard. As the guests left the dining-room, instead
of immediately returning to the Gallery of the Maps, they dispersed
through the reception rooms in the front part of the château, where the
windows were all wide open. The Emperor took up position on the central
balcony, which afforded accommodation for a score of other personages.
Down below, on either side of the courtyard, a row of footmen, in full
livery and with hair powdered, was ranged from the steps to the gate.
Each held a long staff surmounted by a blazing cresset, in which tow
had been steeped in spirits of wine. The lofty greenish flames seemed
to dance in the air, glaring through the darkness without illuminating
it, brightening nothing except the scarlet waistcoats, to which they
lent a purplish tinge. Behind the footmen, on both sides of the
courtyard, there were numerous middle-class people of Compiègne, whose
dim faces swarmed in the darkness, the flaring tow every now and then
revealing some hideous verdurous countenance. In the centre, in front
of the steps of the château, the offal of the stag lay in a heap. Over
it was stretched the skin of the animal, the head and antlers lying in
front. At the other end, near the gate, were the hounds in charge of
the huntsmen; and some dog-keepers, in green livery and white cotton
stockings, were waving torches. In the bright ruddy glow, broken by
clouds of smoke which rolled away towards the town, the hounds could be
seen crowding together, and panting heavily with distended mouths.
The Emperor remained standing. Every now and then a sudden flash of
torchlight showed up his blank impenetrable face. Clorinde had watched
his every movement during dinner without detecting anything more than
a melancholy weariness, the moodiness of an invalid who suffers in
silence. Only once had she fancied that she saw him casting a faint
side-glance at M. de Marsy. And there on the balcony he still remained
moody, stooping a little and twisting his moustache, while behind him
the guests rose upon tip-toe in order to get a better view.
'Come, Firmin!' he said, almost impatiently. Then the huntsmen
sounded the 'Royale.' The hounds threw tongue, straining their necks
and rearing on their hind legs with uproarious efforts. And, as the
keeper held up the stag's head in sight of the maddened pack, Firmin,
the chief huntsman, who stood upon the steps, let his whip drop; the
hounds, which had been waiting for this signal, bounded in three
great leaps across the courtyard, quivering and panting with hungry
excitement. Firmin, however, had picked up his whip again; and the
hounds, suddenly checked within a few yards of the offal, squatted upon
the pavement, while their backs shook with excitement and their throats
seemed like to burst with barks of desire. But they were obliged to
retreat--to return across the courtyard and assume their previous
position by the gate.
'Oh, the poor animals!' said Madame de Combelot, with an air of languid
compassion.
'Splendid!' cried M. La Rouquette.
Chevalier Rusconi applauded loudly. Several of the ladies were leaning
forward in their excitement, while their lips quivered and their hearts
throbbed with desire to see the hounds devour their prey. Would they
not be allowed to have the bones at once? they asked.
'No, not just yet,' said several voices.
Firmin had again twice dropped and then raised his whip. The hounds
were exasperated and foamed at the mouth. But the third time, Firmin
did not raise his whip again. The valet rushed away, carrying off the
stag's head and skin, while the dogs leapt forward and seized the
offal. Their furious barking subsided into a low quivering growl of
enjoyment. Bones could be heard cracking. Then general satisfaction was
expressed upon the balcony and at the windows. The ladies smiled in
chilly fashion and clenched their white teeth, and the men looked on
with glistening eyes, while twisting the tooth-picks they had brought
from the dining-room. In the courtyard came sudden brilliance. The
huntsmen sounded a flourish on their horns; the dog-keepers waved their
torches, and a blaze of coloured lights arose, setting the night aflare
and then raining sanguineously on the placid heads of the townsfolk on
either hand.
The Emperor, however, turned his back upon the scene, and on noticing
Rougon close to him, he seemed to awake from the moody reverie in which
he had been absorbed since dinner. 'Monsieur Rougon,' he said, 'I have
been thinking about that scheme of yours. There are difficulties in the
way--many difficulties.' Then, after a momentary pause, he opened his
lips to speak again, but closed them without saying anything. However,
as he went away, he added: 'You must remain in Paris, Monsieur Rougon.'
Clorinde, who heard him, made a gesture of triumph. The Emperor's
remark immediately spread through the company, and the guests once more
became grave and anxious, as Rougon slowly made his way through their
midst, towards the Gallery of the Maps.
Down below in the courtyard, the hounds were finishing their bones.
They flung themselves wildly atop of one another in order to reach the
prey. With their writhing backs, white and black, all jumbled together,
they were like a living wave, surging and struggling and roaring
hungrily. Their jaws snapped, and they bolted mouthful after mouthful
in their feverish eagerness to devour all. Quarrels, brief and sudden,
ended in a loud howl. One large hound, a magnificent creature, finding
himself too far away from the quarry, stepped back and then sprang into
the very middle of the pack. He forced his way through the others, and
soon gulped down a great strip of the stag's entrails.
VIII
RECALLED TO POWER
Some weeks went by. Rougon had relapsed into his life of lassitude
and ennui. He never referred to the Emperor's order that he should
remain in Paris. He only spoke of his disappointment and of the alleged
obstacles which stood in the way of his clearing some portion of the
Landes. Upon this topic he talked continually. What obstacles could
there possibly be? he asked. For his part, he could see none. He even
went so far as to show some irritation against the Emperor, from whom
it was impossible, he complained, to obtain any explanations. Perhaps,
however, his Majesty felt afraid lest he should be obliged to come
forward with a subvention for the proposed expedition.
As the days went by, Clorinde's visits to the Rue Marbeuf increased in
frequency. She seemed every afternoon to expect some great news from
Rougon, and she gazed at him in surprise on finding him so silent.
Ever since her visit to Compiègne she had been living in the hope
of a sudden triumph. She had pictured a series of dramatic scenes:
furious anger on the part of the Emperor, M. de Marsy's utter fall and
disgrace, and the great man's immediate restoration to power. She no
doubt imagined that her feminine wiles would have this result; and so
her astonishment was unbounded when, at the end of a month, she still
saw the Count in office. She began to feel contempt for the Emperor,
who seemed incapable of avenging himself. What could he be thinking
about in the everlasting silence he preserved?
However, Clorinde had not yet abandoned all hope. She had an intuition
that some unforeseen turn of the wheel of chance would bring round
the triumph she desired, for M. de Marsy's influence was certainly
shaken. Rougon now treated her with all the watchful attention of a
jealous husband. Ever since his strange outbreaks at Compiègne, he had
exercised a most fatherly surveillance over her, had plied her with
moral dissertations, and expressed his desire to see her every day.
The young woman smiled, feeling certain now that he would not leave
Paris. Towards the middle of December, however, after weeks of drowsy
listlessness, he again reverted to his great scheme. He had consulted
some bankers, and had hopes of doing without the Emperor's assistance.
And once more he buried himself in maps and plans and technical
treatises. Gilquin, he said, had already enrolled more than five
hundred workmen who were willing to go out with him. They would form
the first instalment of his future people. At this Clorinde, feeling
quite provoked, again set the whole coterie of friends in motion.
It was a tremendous undertaking. Each of them took some special
_rôle_; and whispered councils were held in the corners of Rougon's
own drawing-room on Sunday and Thursday evenings. They portioned out
the various difficult matters, and every day they scattered through
Paris, invincibly determined upon gaining some influence or other to
their cause. No assistance was too insignificant for their acceptance;
the most trifling help might be useful. They availed themselves of
everything, they drew whatever advantage they could from the most
trivial incidents, and worked and worked from the first thing in the
morning until the last thing at night. They enlisted their friends as
accomplices, and their friends enlisted others. All Paris seemed to
share in the intrigue. In the most out-of-the-way districts people
began to yearn for Rougon's triumph, without being able to say why. The
little band, though it only comprised some ten or twelve persons, was
influencing the whole city.
'We are the coming government,' said Du Poizat, in all seriousness;
and, establishing a parallel between themselves and the men who had
made the Second Empire, he added: 'I shall be Rougon's Marsy.'
A pretender by himself was a mere name. A band of supporters was
needed to establish a government. Twenty stout fellows of ambition are
stronger than a mere principle, and when they can combine a principle
with their ambition they become invincible. Such were Du Poizat's
views. He himself spent his time in perambulating Paris, often calling
at newspaper offices, where he smoked his cigar and did what he could
to undermine M. de Marsy's reputation. He always had some secret little
story to relate about the minister, whom he accused of ingratitude
and egotism. Then, when he had managed to bring in Rougon's name, he
would drop vague hints and promises of the rewards and presents and
subventions which the latter would shower down upon every one should he
be in the position to do so. In this way Du Poizat contrived to supply
numerous suggestions, anecdotes, and quotations to the newspapers,
which continually brought the great man under the notice of the public.
Two journals published an account of a visit to the house in the Rue
Marbeuf, and others spoke of Rougon's famous work on the English
constitution and that of 1852. Thus, after a hostile silence of two
years, a murmur of eulogy arose, and Rougon's popularity seemed to be
reviving. Du Poizat, too, devoted himself to other intrigues, very
secret ones, such as the purchase of certain persons' support by a kind
of gambling on the prospects of Rougon's return to office.
'Let us only think of him,' he often said, with that frankness of his
which was distasteful to the more affected members of the band. 'Later
on, he will think of us.'
M. Beulin-d'Orchère was not a very subtle intriguer. When he unearthed
a scandalous affair to the detriment of M. de Marsy it was immediately
hushed up. He showed greater shrewdness in hinting that he might
very well become Minister of Justice if ever his brother-in-law
should return to power, an intimation which brought all his brother
judges over to his side. M. Kahn meanwhile had put himself at the
head of another company of auxiliaries, financiers, deputies, and
functionaries, who helped to swell the army of malcontents. He had
a docile lieutenant in M. Béjuin, and even availed himself of the
services of M. de Combelot and M. La Rouquette, without those gentlemen
having the faintest idea of the object for which he made them work. For
his part, he acted in the official world, even its highest spheres,
carrying his propaganda into the Tuileries, and covertly labouring for
days at a time in order that some remark or other might be repeated
from mouth to mouth till it reached the Emperor himself.
But it was the women who manifested the most passionate enthusiasm.
There were some terribly strange underplots, some complicated intrigues
among them, whose full scope was never known. Madame Correur began to
call pretty Madame Bouchard 'her little pet,' and took her, she said,
on a visit to the country; so that for a week M. Bouchard was left to
lead a bachelor's life, and M. d'Escorailles had to spend his evenings
at the minor theatres. Du Poizat, however, met the two ladies one day
in the company of some gentlemen who wore decorations, but he said
nothing about having done so. Madame Correur now rented two flats:
one in the Rue Blanche, and the other in the Rue Mazarine. The latter
was very elegantly furnished, and Madame Bouchard would go there of
an afternoon, taking the key from the doorkeeper of the house. It was
said that the young woman had made an effectual conquest of a very high
functionary.
Then, too, the minor members of the band bestirred themselves, doing
all they could. Colonel Jobelin betook himself regularly to a café
on the boulevards to catch his old army friends, whom he catechised
between their games of piquet; and when he had enlisted the sympathies
of half a dozen, he rubbed his hands gleefully in the evening and
declared that the whole army had joined the good cause. M. Bouchard
devoted himself to a like task in the government offices, and gradually
instilled a strong feeling of enmity against M. de Marsy into the
clerks. He even won over the messengers, and made the whole staff sigh
for the golden age of which he hinted the advent. M. d'Escorailles, on
his side, devoted himself to the wealthy young men he knew, extolling
Rougon's broad views, his tolerance of certain misdemeanours, and his
love of daring. Even the Charbonnels, as they sat on the benches of the
Luxembourg garden, whither they went each afternoon while awaiting the
issue of their interminable lawsuit, found a means of enlisting the
sympathy and support of the petty cits residing in the neighbourhood of
the Odéon.
Clorinde was not content with being the guiding spirit of the band,
but engaged in very elaborate operations of her own, of which she
never spoke. She was to be seen more frequently than ever, hurrying
through streets of questionable repute, carelessly dressed and tightly
hugging her big official-looking portfolio, which was now so split at
the seams that it was only kept together by means of string. She also
gave her husband extraordinary commissions to perform, and he did her
bidding with the docility of a sheep, never seeking to understand her
even. Then, too, she sent Luigi Pozzo about carrying letters; asked
M. de Plouguern to give her his escort, and then kept him waiting in
the street for her by the hour. At one moment she even thought of
getting the Italian government to interfere in Rougon's favour. Her
correspondence with her mother, who was still living at Turin, had
become extremely active. She had dreams of turning Europe topsy-turvy,
and would go twice a day to Chevalier Rusconi's to meet his diplomatic
acquaintances. In this strange campaign of hers, she also frequently
remembered her beauty, and would go out on certain afternoons most
superbly arrayed. And when her friends, quite surprised by the change,
told her that she looked lovely, 'I have need to be,' she replied, with
an air of resigned weariness.
On her return from Compiègne, Du Poizat, having heard of her adventure
at the hunt, had tried to find out on what terms she was with M.
de Marsy. He had some vague idea of betraying Rougon in favour of
the Count were Clorinde likely to become the latter's all-powerful
mistress. She, however, with considerable irritation, denied the truth
of any such supposition. He must think her very silly to suspect her
of such a connection, she said. She even gave him to understand that
she should never see M. de Marsy again. In her earlier days she might
possibly have thought of becoming his wife. Now, however, she had other
schemes in her head.
'There are often many ways of getting at what you want,' she sometimes
said, 'but there is never more than one of them that is pleasant. I
myself have a craving to satisfy.'