Monsieur Felix Panneton was sauntering up the Champs-Élysées on his
way to the Arc de Triomphe, calculating the chances of his election to
the Senate. His candidature had not yet been announced. And Monsieur
Panneton reflected, like Bonaparte: “To act, to calculate, to act....”
Two lists had already been offered to the electors of the department.
The four retiring Senators, Laprat-Teulet, Goby, Mannequin and Ledru,
were presenting themselves for re-election. The Nationalist candidates
were the Comte de Brécé, Colonel Despautères, Monsieur Lerond the
ex-magistrate, and Lafolie the butcher.
It was difficult to say which of the two lists would win the day.
The retiring Senators found favour in the eyes of the peace-lovers
because of their long experience of legislation, and because they
were guardians of those liberal yet authoritative traditions which
dated back to the foundation of the Republic and were connected
with the legendary name of Gambetta. They won the public favour by
intelligently-rendered services and abundant promises, and they had a
large and well-disciplined body of supporters. These public men, who
had lived in stirring times, remained faithful to their doctrine with
a firmness that embellished the sacrifices which circumstances forced
them to make to the exigencies of public opinion. Opportunists in
former days, they now called themselves Radicals. At the time of the
Affair they had all four testified to their profound respect for the
court-martial, and in one of them this respect was mingled with genuine
emotion.
The ex-attorney Goby could never speak of military justice without
shedding tears. The oldest of them, Laprat-Teulet, a Republican who
had taken part in the great conflicts of the heroic days, spoke of the
Army in such loving and impassioned terms that, at any other period,
his hearers would have judged his expressions more applicable to
some poor orphan girl than to an institution so strong in men and in
millions. These four Senators had voted for the law of deprivation and
had expressed to the General Council the pious hope that the Government
would take stringent measures to check the Revisionist agitation.
These were the Dreyfusards of the department, and as there were no
others they were furiously opposed by the Nationalists. They blamed
Mannequin for being the brother-in-law of a councillor in the Court
of Appeal. As for Laprat-Teulet, who headed the list, he was greeted
with insults and venomous abuse that bespattered them all. Truth to
tell, he had done a stroke or two of business on his own account.
People recalled the time when, finding himself mixed up in the Panama
affair and threatened with arrest, he had grown a long beard that gave
him a venerable appearance and was wheeled about in a little chair by
his pious wife and his daughter, the latter dressed as a nun. Every
day, as part of this humble and saintly procession, he would pass by
beneath the elm-trees of the Mall and have himself put in the sun,
a poor paralytic who traced figures in the dust with the tip of his
walking-stick, while with cunning skill he prepared his defence, which
a verdict of “insufficient cause” had rendered useless. Since then he
had recovered, but the fury of the Nationalists was hot against him.
He was a Panamist, so they called him a Dreyfusard. “This man,” said
Ledru to himself, “will ruin the whole lot of us.” He mentioned his
apprehensions to Worms-Clavelin:
“Would it not be possible, monsieur le préfet, to make Laprat-Teulet,
a man who has rendered such signal service to the Republic and the
country, understand that the time has come for him to retire into
private life?”
The prefect replied that they must think twice before decapitating the
Republican list.
However, the newspaper _La Croix_, introduced into the department by
Madame Worms-Clavelin, carried on a ferocious campaign against the
retiring Senators. It supported the Republican list, which was cleverly
constructed. Monsieur de Brécé rallied the Royalists, who were fairly
strong in the department; Monsieur Lerond, as ex-magistrate and a
clerical advocate, was favoured by the clergy; and Colonel Despautères,
in himself an unimportant old man, represented the honour of the
Army. He had praised the forgers and was among the subscribers to
the fund for the widow of Colonel Henry. The butcher Lafolie pleased
the working-people, who were half peasants, living on the outskirts
of the town. It was believed that the Brécé list would obtain more
than two hundred votes and that it might go right through. Monsieur
Worms-Clavelin was uneasy, and when _La Croix_ published the manifesto
of the Nationalist candidates he became extremely anxious. It attacked
the President of the Republic, called the Senate a poultry-run and a
pigstye, and referred to the Cabinet as the “Ministry of Treason.” “If
these fellows get in, I’m done,” thought the prefect, and he remarked
gently to his wife:
“You were wrong, my dear, to favour the diffusion of _La Croix_ in the
department.”
“What else could I do?” she replied. “As a Jewess, I was obliged to
exaggerate my Catholic opinions. And up to now that has helped us a
good deal.”
“True,” replied the prefect; “but we have perhaps gone a little too
far.”
Monsieur Lacarelle, secretary to the prefecture, whose famous
resemblance to Vercingetorix inclined him to Nationalism, spoke in
favour of the Brécé list, and Monsieur Worms-Clavelin, a prey to gloomy
meditation, forgot his cigars and left them, with chewed ends and still
alight, on the arms of the chairs.
Just at this time Monsieur Felix Panneton called to see him.
Monsieur Felix Panneton, the younger brother of Monsieur Panneton de
La Barge, was an army contractor. No one could suspect his love of
the Army whose heads and feet he covered. He was a Nationalist, but a
Government-Nationalist. He was a Nationalist with Monsieur Loubet and
Monsieur Waldeck-Rousseau. He did not disguise the fact, and when he
was told that such a thing was impossible he replied:
“It isn’t impossible; it isn’t even difficult; the main thing was the
idea.”
Panneton the Nationalist remained loyal to the Government. “There is
plenty of time to change,” he thought, “and all those who broke too
soon with the Government have had cause to regret it. One is too apt to
forget that even a prostrate Ministry has time to deal you a kick and
break your jaw.” Such wisdom was the fruit of his common sense. He was
ambitious, but did his best to satisfy his ambition without sacrificing
his business or his pleasures, which were pictures and women. For the
rest, he was a very energetic person, always running to and fro between
his factories and Paris, where he had three or four addresses.
The idea of worming his way in between the Radicals and the pure
Nationalists having dawned upon him one day, he went to see Monsieur
Worms-Clavelin.
“The proposition I am about to make to you, monsieur le préfet,
cannot but be agreeable to you. I therefore feel certain beforehand
of your consent,” he said. “You are anxious for the success of the
Laprat-Teulet list. It is your duty to be so. I respect your feelings
in the matter, but I cannot second them. You are afraid of the success
of the Brécé list. Nothing more legitimate. In this connection I may
be useful to you. I am forming, with three of my friends, a list of
Nationalist candidates. The department is Nationalist but it is
moderate. My programme will be Nationalist and Republican. I shall
have the clergy against me, but the bishops will be on my side. Do not
contest my claim. Observe a benevolent neutrality toward me. I shall
not take many votes from the Laprat list, but, on the other hand, I
shall take a great many from the Brécé list. I will not disguise the
fact that I quite expect to go through on the third scrutiny. But this
will be to your advantage as well, because the extremists will be left
in the cart.”
“Monsieur Panneton,” replied Monsieur Worms-Clavelin, “you have long
been assured of my personal sympathies. I thank you for the interesting
communication which you have been kind enough to make. I will think it
over and act in conformity with the interest of the Republican Party,
endeavouring meanwhile to fathom the intentions of the Government.”
He offered Monsieur Panneton a cigar and in a friendly way asked him if
he had not just come from Paris, and what he thought of the new piece
at the Variétés. He asked this question because he knew that Panneton
was keeping one of the actresses there. Felix Panneton was supposed to
be a great lover of women. He was a big, ugly man of fifty, dark and
bald, with high shoulders and a reputation for wit.
Some days after his interview with Worms-Clavelin, he was walking up
the Champs-Élysées thinking of his candidature, which augured fairly
well, and of the importance of making a start as soon as possible. But
just at the moment of publishing the list, which he headed, one of
the candidates, Monsieur de Terremondre, had backed out. Monsieur de
Terremondre was too moderate to separate himself from the extremists.
Hearing their cries redoubled, he had gone back to them. “Just what
I expected,” thought Panneton. “It doesn’t much matter. I will put
Gromance in Terremondre’s place. Gromance will do the trick, Gromance
the landed proprietor—and every acre that he possesses mortgaged. But
that will do him no harm except in his own district. He is in Paris.
I’ll go and see him.”
He had reached this point in his reflections when he saw Madame de
Gromance coming towards him in a mink coat that came down to her feet.
Even under the thick fur she was still slim and dainty. He found her
delicious.
“I am delighted to see you, dear lady. How is Monsieur de Gromance?”
“Oh—quite well.”
When people asked her for news of her husband she was always afraid of
their doing so in an ill-bred spirit of irony.
“May I walk a little way with you, madame? I want to discuss some
serious matters with you. First——”
“Well?”
“That coat gives you a barbaric appearance, you look like a charming
little savage.”
“Are these the serious matters?”
“I’m coming to them. It is absolutely necessary for Monsieur de
Gromance to present himself as a candidate for the Senate. The
interests of his country demand it. Monsieur de Gromance is a
Nationalist, is he not?”
She looked at him with a touch of indignation.
“He certainly isn’t an Intellectual.”
“And is he a Republican?”
“Heavens, yes! I’ll explain. He’s a Royalist. So you understand——”
“Ah, dear lady, those are the best Republicans. We will put the name
of Monsieur de Gromance prominently upon our list of Republican
Nationalists.”
“And do you think that Dieudonné will get in?”
“Madame, I think so. We have the bishops with us and many senatorial
electors who, although Nationalists by conviction, uphold the
Government on account of their office or their interests. And in the
event of failure, which could only be an honourable failure, Monsieur
de Gromance can rely on the gratitude of the Government and the
Administration. I’ll tell you a great secret. Worms-Clavelin is on our
side.”
“Then I don’t see why Dieudonné——”
“Are you quite sure your husband will accept?”
“Go and see him yourself.”
“You are the only person with any influence over him.”
“Do you think so?”
“I am quite sure of it.”
“Then it’s settled.”
“No, it isn’t settled. There are very delicate details which we can’t
settle like this in the street. Come and see me and I will show you my
Baudouins. Come to-morrow.”
He whispered the address, the number of a house in a dull deserted
street in the Quartier de l’Europe. There, at a respectable distance
from his lawful and spacious domicile in the Champs-Élysées, he had a
small house, built in former days for a fashionable painter.
“Is there any special hurry?”
“I should say so. Just think, my dear madame, we have only three
weeks left for our electoral campaign and Brécé has been working the
department for six months.”
“But is it quite necessary that I should come and see your——?”
“My Baudouins? It is indispensable.”
“Is it really?”
“Listen and judge for yourself, dear lady. I do not deny that your
husband’s name has a certain prestige among the rural population,
especially in the parts where he is little known. But I cannot disguise
the fact that when I proposed to add his name to our list I met with
opposition. This opposition still exists. You must give me strength to
overcome it. I must draw from your—your friendship the irresistible
will to—— In short, I feel that if you do not give me your sympathy I
shall not have the necessary energy to——”
“But is it quite proper for me to go and see your——?”
“Oh, in Paris!”
“If I do, of course it will be for the sake of the country and the
Army. We must save France.”
“That is my opinion.”
“Remember me to Madame Panneton.”
“I will not forget, dear madame. Until to-morrow.”