round the ante-room, which was still full. Not a functionary or a
petitioner had moved. The three prefects were still talking together
in their corner. The two ladies by the table were leaning upon their
finger-tips, as if a little weary. The same people sat motionless and
silent in the red velvet chairs along the walls. Then Rougon left his
room, giving Merle orders to detain the prefect of the Somme and the
editor of the _Vœu National_.
Madame Rougon, who was not very well, had left on the previous evening
for the South of France, where she was going to stay for a month. She
had an uncle living in the neighbourhood of Pau. On the other hand,
Delestang had been in Italy for the last six weeks, on an important
mission connected with agriculture. And thus it came about that the
minister had invited Clorinde, who wanted to have a long talk with him,
to partake of _déjeuner_ at his official residence.
Patiently waiting for him, she was beguiling the time by glancing
through a law-treatise which she had found upon a table.
'You must be getting dreadfully hungry,' he said to her gaily as
he entered the drawing-room. 'I've had a tremendous lot to do this
morning.'
Then he gave her his arm and conducted her into the dining-room, an
immense apartment where the little table, laid for two, near a window,
seemed quite lost. A couple of tall footmen waited upon them. Rougon
and Clorinde, who both preserved a very serious demeanour, ate rapidly.
Their meal consisted of a few radishes, a slice of cold salmon, some
cutlets with mashed potatoes, and a little cheese. They took no
wine--Rougon drank nothing but water of a morning--and they scarcely
exchanged a dozen words. Then, when the two footmen had cleared the
table and brought in the coffee and liqueurs, Clorinde glanced at
Rougon and gave a slight twitch of her eyebrows which he perfectly
understood.
'That will do; you can go now,' he said to the footmen. 'I will ring if
I require anything.'
The servants left the room, and Clorinde, rising from her chair, tapped
her skirt to remove the crumbs which had fallen on it. She was wearing
that day a black silk dress, somewhat too large for her and laden with
flounces, a very elaborate dress which so enveloped her figure as to
make her look like a mere bundle.
'What a tremendous place this is!' she remarked, going to the end of
the room. 'It's the kind of place for a wedding feast, this dining-room
of yours.' Then she came back and said: 'I should very much like to
smoke a cigarette, do you know?'
'The deuce,' replied Rougon; 'there's no tobacco. I never smoke myself.'
But Clorinde winked and drew from her pocket a little tobacco pouch, of
red silk, embroidered with gold, and scarcely larger than a purse. She
rolled a cigarette with the tips of her tapering fingers, and then, as
they did not wish to ring, they began to search the room for matches.
At last they found three on a sideboard, and Clorinde carefully carried
them off. With her cigarette between her lips, she sat back in her
chair and began to sip her coffee, while gazing smilingly at Rougon.
'Well, I am entirely at your service now,' he remarked, with an
answering smile. 'You want to talk to me; so let us talk.'
Clorinde made a gesture as though to express that what she had to say
was of no consequence. 'Yes,' she rejoined; 'I have had a letter from
my husband. He is feeling very bored at Turin. Of course, he is much
pleased at having got this mission, thanks to you, but he doesn't want
to be forgotten while he is away. However, we can talk of all that
presently. There's no hurry about it.'
Then she again began to smoke and look at Rougon with her irritating
smile. The minister had gradually accustomed himself to seeing her,
without worrying about those questions which had formerly so disturbed
him. Clorinde had now become a feature of his daily life, and he
accepted her as though he understood her, as though her eccentricities
no longer caused him the faintest surprise. As a matter of fact,
however, he knew nothing certain about her even yet: she was as great a
mystery to him as she had been in the first days of their acquaintance.
She constantly varied, sometimes acting childishly, sometimes showing
herself very deep and knowing; for although, as a rule, she seemed
very foolish, she occasionally manifested singular shrewdness. And
now, too, she was very gentle, and now extremely spiteful. When she
surprised Rougon by some word or gesture which he could not understand,
he shrugged his shoulders with an expression of superiority, opining
that all women behaved in that fantastic way. He fancied that he thus
manifested a supreme contempt for the sex, but his manner merely
sharpened Clorinde's smile, a smile which had an expression of crafty
cruelty about it, revealing as it did her eager teeth between her ruby
lips.
'Why are you looking at me in that way?' Rougon asked her at length,
feeling disturbed by the steady gaze of her large eyes. 'Is there
anything about me which displeases you?'
Some hidden thought had just brought a gleam from the depths of
Clorinde's eyes, and her lips had assumed a hard expression. But she
quickly put on a charming smile again, and began to puff out little
whiffs of smoke while saying: 'Oh, dear no, you're very nice. I was
thinking about something, my dear fellow. Do you know that you have
been very lucky?'
'How's that?'
'Why, yes. Here you are on the pinnacle which you were so anxious to
reach. Everybody has helped to lift you to it, and events themselves
have worked for you.'
Rougon was about to reply when there came a knock at the door. Clorinde
instinctively hid her cigarette behind her skirts. It was a clerk with
an urgent telegram for his excellency. Rougon read the despatch with an
air of displeasure, and after telling the clerk what reply was to be
made to it, hastily closed the door with a bang and took his seat again.
'Yes,' he said, 'I have certainly had some devoted friends, and am now
trying to remember them. And you are right, too, in saying that I owe
something to events. It often happens that men are powerless, unless
they are helped by events.'
As he spoke these words in slow deliberate tones he glanced at
Clorinde, lowering his heavy eyelids so as to conceal the fact that he
was trying to penetrate her meaning. Why had she spoken of his luck? he
wondered. What did she know of the favourable events to which she had
referred? Had Du Poizat been saying anything to her? But when he saw
the smiling, dreamy look of her face, which had suddenly softened, he
felt sure that she knew nothing whatever upon the subject. He himself,
too, was trying to forget certain things, and did not care to stir up
the inner chambers of his memory. There was an hour of his life which
now seemed hazy and confused to him, and he was beginning to believe
that he really owed his high position solely to the devotion of his
friends.
'I didn't want anything,' he continued; 'I was driven into it in spite
of myself. Well, I suppose things have turned out for the best. If I
succeed in doing any good, I shall be quite satisfied.'
Then he finished his cup of coffee, while Clorinde rolled another
cigarette.
'Do you remember,' she inquired, 'my asking you, two years ago, when
you were leaving the Council of State, your reason for your sudden
whim? You were very reserved then, but surely you can speak out now.
Come, between ourselves, tell me frankly if you had a definite plan in
your mind.'
'One always has a plan,' he answered shrewdly. 'I felt that I was
falling, and preferred to jump down of my own accord.'
'And has your plan been realised? Have events happened just as you
anticipated?'
'Well, hardly that. Things never turn out exactly as one calculates.
One must be satisfied if one attains one's end somehow.' Then he paused
to offer Clorinde a glass of liqueur. 'Which will you have, curaçoa or
chartreuse?' She chose chartreuse; and, as Rougon was pouring it out,
there came another knock at the door. Clorinde again hid her cigarette
with a gesture of impatience, whilst Rougon got up angrily, still
holding the decanter. This time it was a letter bearing a large seal
which was brought for his inspection. When he had glanced at it, he put
it into his pocket.
'Very well,' he said. 'Don't let me be disturbed again.'
When he came back to Clorinde, the young woman was steeping her lips in
the chartreuse, slowly sipping it, while glancing upward at him with
glistening eyes. There was a tender look upon her face again.
Then, putting down her glass and leaning on the table, she said, in a
low voice: 'No, my dear fellow, you will never know all that was done
for you.'
Rougon drew his chair closer to hers and, in his turn, rested his
elbows on the table. 'Ah, you will tell me all about that now, won't
you?' he cried with animation. 'Don't let us have any more mysteries,
eh? Tell me all that you yourself did.'
She shook her head, however, while pressing her cigarette between her
lips.
'What, is it something dreadful?' Rougon asked. 'Are you afraid that I
shouldn't be able to repay you? Wait a moment, now; I'm going to try
to guess. You wrote to the Pope and you dropped a bit of consecrated
wafer into my water jug without letting me know?'
Clorinde seemed vexed by this jesting, and threatened to leave him if
he continued it. 'Don't scoff at religion,' she said. 'It will bring
you misfortune.'
Then, waving away the smoke which she was puffing from her lips and
which seemed to inconvenience Rougon, she continued in an expressive
tone: 'I saw a great many people indeed, and I won you several friends.'
She experienced a strong, an evil, inclination to tell him everything,
for she did not want him to remain ignorant of the fact that she had
done much for his advantage. Her confession would be a first instalment
towards the satisfaction of her patiently hoarded rancour. 'Yes, yes,'
she continued significantly; 'I won over to your side several men who
were strongly opposed to you. And I destroyed the influence of others.'
Rougon had turned very pale, for he understood her only too well. 'Ah!'
was all he said, as if to avoid the subject; but Clorinde defiantly
fixed her large black eyes upon him, and giving way he began to
question her. 'Monsieur de Marsy, eh?'
Clorinde nodded assent and then blew a whiff of smoke over her shoulder.
'Chevalier Rusconi?'
Again she nodded.
'Monsieur Lebeau, Monsieur de Salneuve, Monsieur Guyot-Laplanche?'
She nodded at each name, and then finished her glass of chartreuse in
little sips, with an expression of triumph on her face.
Rougon had risen from his seat. He walked to the end of the room as if
pondering, and then came back and stood behind Clorinde. She could hear
him panting. And all at once she turned sharply, fearing he was going
to kiss her hair. 'I know your thoughts,' said she, 'but remember, I
had no need to plead your cause with yourself.'
Then, as he looked at her, white with anger, she burst into a laugh.
'Oh! how simple you are!' she cried. 'If I just joke a little, you
believe all I say. Really, you are very amusing.'
Rougon stood there for a moment quite nonplussed. The ironical fashion
in which she contradicted herself made her more irritating and
provoking. Her whole person, her rippling laugh and glistening eyes,
confirmed her confessions and repeated them. However, just then there
came a third knock at the door.
'Well, I don't care, I shall stick to my cigarette this time,' said
Clorinde.
An usher came into the room, quite out of breath, and stammered that
the Minister of Justice wanted to speak to his excellency. Then he cast
a furtive glance at the lady he saw smoking.
'Say that I have gone out!' retorted Rougon. 'I am not at home to any
one, do you hear!'
When the usher had bowed and retired backwards from the room, Rougon
vented his anger and brought his fist down upon the table. He was
scarcely allowed to breathe! he cried. Why, on the previous day they
had pursued him even to his dressing-room where he had gone to shave.
Clorinde, however, rose from her chair and deliberately walked to the
door. 'Wait a moment,' she said; 'they sha'n't disturb us again.' And
then she quietly turned the key in the lock. 'There!' she resumed.
'They may knock as much as they like now.'
She began to roll a third cigarette as she stood near the window.
Rougon stepped up to her and whispered close to her neck: 'Clorinde.'
She stood still, and he continued in deeper tones: 'Clorinde, don't you
know that I love you?'
She remained perfectly unruffled. She shook her head, but so feebly
that it seemed as if she wished to encourage him, and he ended by
planting a rough kiss on the back of her neck, just beneath her hair.
Then, however, she swung herself round, and with scorn in her eyes and
her voice she cried: 'Ah! so you've got another attack, my friend? I
thought you were cured of that. What a strange man you are! You kiss a
woman after eighteen months' consideration!'
Rougon remained for a moment with downcast head, but then sprang
towards her, caught hold one of her hands and began to cover it with
kisses. She made no attempt to withdraw it, but continued to jeer at
him.
'Please don't bite my fingers. As long as you don't do that, I don't
mind. I should really never have believed it of you! You had become
so serious and steady when I went to see you in the Rue Marbeuf. And
now you're turned quite crazy again! Truly, you're a nice kind of
man! I can't keep up a passion as you do. It's all quite over with me.
Remember that I offered to be your wife, but you refused me then and
now it is too late.'
'Hear me,' he murmured, 'I will do anything, everything, you want.'
But the young woman shook her head, punishing him for his old contempt,
and enjoying, in so doing, a first instalment of her vengeance. She
had wanted to see him all-powerful in order that she might in her turn
treat him with contempt.
Then Rougon fell ignominiously at her feet and began to kiss her
skirts, grovelling there, humbling himself, he who could be so haughty
with others. As he gradually grew bolder, however, she said to him in
a quiet voice: 'Take care!' and as he disregarded her caution, she
suddenly touched his forehead with the burning end of her cigarette.
He recoiled with a faint cry, and she on her side darted away and
caught hold of the bell-rope which hung against the wall beside the
mantelpiece. 'I shall ring,' she said, 'and I shall say it was you who
locked the door!'
At this Rougon swung himself round, holding his hands to his temples,
and shaken by a violent tremor. Then for a moment he remained quite
still, feeling as though his head were going to split. He stiffened
himself in the hope of calming his feverishness. There was a ringing in
his ears, and his eyes were blinded by ruddy fires.
'I am a brute,' he murmured at last. 'It is folly.'
Clorinde laughed triumphantly, and began to point a moral. He did wrong
to despise women, said she. Later on, he would find that there were
such things as very clever women. Then she relapsed into a good-natured
playful tone. 'You are not vexed with me, are you? You must never try
to make love to me again, you know. I don't want you to do it. I don't
like to think of it.'
Rougon paced up and down, full of shame; while she let go of the
bell-rope, sat down at the table again, and compounded herself a glass
of sugar and water.
'Well, I got a letter from my husband yesterday,' she quietly resumed.
'I had so much to do this morning that I should probably have broken my
promise to come and lunch with you if I hadn't wanted to show you that
letter. See, here it is! It reminds you of your promises.'
Rougon took the letter and read it as he walked about the room. Then he
threw it on the table in front of Clorinde with a gesture expressive of
weariness.
'Well?' she asked.
He made no immediate reply, but stretched himself and yawned. 'He is a
simpleton,' he said at last.
Clorinde was greatly offended. For some time past she had not tolerated
any doubt of her husband's capabilities. She bent her head for a moment
and repressed the rebellious twitchings of her hands. She was gradually
emerging from her disciple-like submissiveness, draining, as it were,
from Rougon sufficient of his strength to enable her to confront him as
a formidable foe.
'If we were to show this letter, it would be all over with him,' said
the minister, impelled by Clorinde's disdain to avenge himself upon her
husband. 'Ah! it isn't so easy as you suppose to find a place that he's
fit for.'
'You are exaggerating, my friend,' replied Clorinde, after a short
pause. 'You used to say that he had a great future before him. He
possesses some sterling good qualities; and it isn't always the
sharpest men who go furthest!'
Rougon, however, still paced the room, and shrugged his shoulders.
'It is to your interest that he should join the ministry,' continued
Clorinde. 'You would have a supporter in him. If it is true, as is
reported, that the Minister of Commerce and Agriculture is in bad
health and wishes to retire, the opportunity is a splendid one. My
husband is quite competent to perform the duties of the office, and
his mission to Italy would make his selection quite natural. You know
that the Emperor is very fond of him, and that they get on very well
together. They have the same ideas on many subjects. A word from you
would settle the matter.'
Rougon took two or three more turns before replying. Then, halting in
front of Clorinde, he said: 'Well, after all, I am agreeable. He won't
be the only simpleton in office. But I'm doing this solely for your
sake, remember. I want to disarm you. I am afraid you haven't a good
heart. You're too vindictive, aren't you?'
He spoke playfully, and Clorinde laughed as she replied: 'Oh, yes,
indeed; I'm very vindictive. I remember things a long time.'
Then, as she was about to leave him, he detained her for a moment by
the door, and twice squeezed her fingers, but did not say another word.
Directly Clorinde had gone, Rougon returned to his private office. The
spacious room was empty. He sat down at the writing-table and rested
his elbows on his blotting-pad, breathing heavily in the surrounding
silence. His eyelids dropped, and a deep reverie lulled him to a state
of drowsiness for the next ten minutes. Then he suddenly started,
stretched himself, and rang the bell.
Merle made his appearance.
'The prefect of the Somme is still here, isn't he?' asked Rougon. 'Show
him in.'
Bracing up his short figure, the prefect entered the room with a pale,
smiling face. He greeted the minister with all due deference. Rougon,
who felt little energy, waited till he had finished. Then he asked him
to be seated.
'I must tell you why I have sent for you, Monsieur le préfet,' he
began. 'There are certain instructions which must be given by word
of mouth. You are not ignorant of the fact that the revolutionary
party is raising its head. We have been within an ace of a frightful
catastrophe. The country requires to be reassured, to feel that it can
rely upon the energetic protection of the Government. His Majesty the
Emperor, on his side, has come to the conclusion that some examples
must be made, for hitherto his kindness has been strangely abused.'
Rougon spoke slowly, reclining in his arm-chair and playing the while
with a large agate seal. The prefect expressed his approval of each
sentence by a brisk nod.
'Your department,' continued the minister, 'is one of the worst. The
republican ulcer----'
'I make every effort----' interposed the prefect.
'Don't interrupt me. It is necessary that strong repressive steps
should be taken there; and it was to express my views to you on the
subject that I wished to see you. We have been drawing up a list----'
Then he began to search among his papers, took up a bundle of
documents, and turned them over one by one.
'It is a return for the whole of France of the number of arrests
that are considered necessary. The number for each department is
proportionate to the blow which it is intended to strike. I want you
to understand our object thoroughly. In the Haute-Marne, for instance,
where the Republicans are in a very small minority, there are to be
only three arrests. In the Meuse, on the other hand, there will be
fifteen. As for your department, the Somme--isn't it?--well, for the
Somme, we think----'
He turned the papers over again, blinking his heavy eyelids; then
raised his head and looked the prefect in the face. 'Monsieur le
préfet, you have twelve arrests to make,' said he.
The pale little man bowed. 'Twelve arrests,' he repeated. 'I understand
your excellency perfectly.'
He seemed perplexed, however, as though affected by some slight
misgivings which he would have preferred to conceal. However, after a
few minutes' general conversation, just as the minister rose to dismiss
him, he made up his mind to ask: 'Could your excellency tell me the
persons who are to be arrested?'
'Oh! arrest anybody you like!' Rougon replied. 'I can't trouble myself
about the details. I should never get through the work if I did. Leave
Paris this evening and begin your arrests to-morrow. I advise you,
however, to strike high. Down in your department you have some lawyers
and merchants and druggists who busy themselves with politics. Just
lock all those fellows up. It will have a good effect.'
The prefect passed his hand across his brow in an anxious way.
He was already searching his memory, trying to think of certain
lawyers, merchants, and druggists. However, he still nodded his head
approvingly. But Rougon was not altogether pleased with his hesitating
demeanour. 'I won't conceal from you,' he said, 'that his Majesty is
by no means satisfied just now with the administrative staff. There
will probably soon be a great change amongst the prefects. We need very
devoted men in the present grave circumstances.'
This affected the prefect like a cut from a whip.
'Your excellency may rely on me,' he exclaimed. 'I have already fixed
upon my men. There is a druggist at Péronne, a cloth merchant and a
paper maker at Doullens; and, as for the lawyers, there's no lack of
them; there's a perfect plague of them. Oh, I assure your excellency
that I shall have no difficulty in making up the dozen. I am an old
servant of the Empire.'
For another moment he chattered on about devoting himself to the saving
of the country, and then took his leave with a very low bow. When he
had closed the door behind him, the minister swayed his heavy frame
with an air of doubt. He did not believe in little men. Then, without
sitting down again, he drew a red line through La Somme upon his list.
The names of more than two-thirds of the departments were already
scored out in the same way.
When Rougon again rang for Merle, he was annoyed to see that the
ante-room was as full as ever. He fancied he could recognise the two
ladies still standing by the table. 'I told you to send everybody
away!' he cried. 'I am going out, and cannot see anybody else.'
'The editor of the _Vœu National_ is there,' murmured the usher.
Rougon had forgotten the editor. He clasped his hands behind his back,
and ordered Merle to admit him. The journalist was a man of some forty
years of age, with a heavy face, and was very carefully dressed.
'Ah! here you are, sir!' said the minister roughly. 'Things cannot go
on like this, I warn you of it.'
Then he began to pace the room, inveighing hotly against the press. It
was demoralising everything, bringing about general disorganisation,
and inciting to disorder of every kind. The very robbers who stabbed
wayfarers on the high-roads were preferable to journalists, said he.
A man might recover from a knife-thrust, but pens were poisoned.
Then he went on to make even more odious comparisons; and gradually
worked himself into a state of excitement, gesticulating angrily, and
thundering forth his words. The editor, who had remained standing, bent
his head to the storm, while his face wore an expression of submissive
consternation.
'If your excellency would condescend to explain to me,' he at last
ventured to say; 'I don't quite understand----'