IN WHICH THE INTELLIGENT READER SEES THAT HE HAS GUESSED CORRECTLY,
DESPITE ALL THE AUTHOR’S PRECAUTIONS.
After the explosion, Quiquendone immediately became the peaceable,
phlegmatic, and Flemish town it formerly was.
After the explosion, which indeed did not cause a very lively
sensation, each one, without knowing why, mechanically took his way
home, the burgomaster leaning on the counsellor’s arm, the advocate
Schut going arm in arm with Custos the doctor, Frantz Niklausse walking
with equal familiarity with Simon Collaert, each going tranquilly,
noiselessly, without even being conscious of what had happened, and
having already forgotten Virgamen and their revenge. The general
returned to his confections, and his aide-de-camp to the barley-sugar.
Thus everything had become calm again; the old existence had been
resumed by men and beasts, beasts and plants; even by the tower of
Oudenarde gate, which the explosion—these explosions are sometimes
astonishing—had set upright again!
And from that time never a word was spoken more loudly than another,
never a discussion took place in the town of Quiquendone. There were no
more politics, no more clubs, no more trials, no more policemen! The
post of the Commissary Passauf became once more a sinecure, and if his
salary was not reduced, it was because the burgomaster and the
counsellor could not make up their minds to decide upon it.
From time to time, indeed, Passauf flitted, without any one suspecting
it, through the dreams of the inconsolable Tatanémance.
As for Frantz’s rival, he generously abandoned the charming Suzel to
her lover, who hastened to wed her five or six years after these
events.
And as for Madame Van Tricasse, she died ten years later, at the proper
time, and the burgomaster married Mademoiselle Pélagie Van Tricasse,
his cousin, under excellent conditions—for the happy mortal who should
succeed him.