THE BARRICADE.
He was abruptly roused from sleep by the noise of a discharge of
musketry; and, in spite of Rosanette's entreaties, Frederick was fully
determined to go and see what was happening. He hurried down to the
Champs-Elysees, from which shots were being fired. At the corner of the
Rue Saint-Honore some men in blouses ran past him, exclaiming:
"No! not that way! to the Palais-Royal!"
Frederick followed them. The grating of the Convent of the Assumption
had been torn away. A little further on he noticed three paving-stones
in the middle of the street, the beginning of a barricade, no doubt;
then fragments of bottles and bundles of iron-wire, to obstruct the
cavalry; and, at the same moment, there rushed suddenly out of a lane a
tall young man of pale complexion, with his black hair flowing over his
shoulders, and with a sort of pea-coloured swaddling-cloth thrown round
him. In his hand he held a long military musket, and he dashed along on
the tips of his slippers with the air of a somnambulist and with the
nimbleness of a tiger. At intervals a detonation could be heard.
On the evening of the day before, the spectacle of the wagon containing
five corpses picked up from amongst those that were lying on the
Boulevard des Capucines had charged the disposition of the people; and,
while at the Tuileries the aides-de-camp succeeded each other, and M.
Mole, having set about the composition of a new Cabinet, did not come
back, and M. Thiers was making efforts to constitute another, and while
the King was cavilling and hesitating, and finally assigned the post of
commander-in-chief to Bugeaud in order to prevent him from making use of
it, the insurrection was organising itself in a formidable manner, as if
it were directed by a single arm.
Men endowed with a kind of frantic eloquence were engaged in haranguing
the populace at the street-corners, others were in the churches ringing
the tocsin as loudly as ever they could. Lead was cast for bullets,
cartridges were rolled about. The trees on the boulevards, the urinals,
the benches, the gratings, the gas-burners, everything was torn off and
thrown down. Paris, that morning, was covered with barricades. The
resistance which was offered was of short duration, so that at eight
o'clock the people, by voluntary surrender or by force, had got
possession of five barracks, nearly all the municipal buildings, the
most favourable strategic points. Of its own accord, without any effort,
the Monarchy was melting away in rapid dissolution, and now an attack
was made on the guard-house of the Chateau d'Eau, in order to liberate
fifty prisoners, who were not there.
Frederick was forced to stop at the entrance to the square. It was
filled with groups of armed men. The Rue Saint-Thomas and the Rue
Fromanteau were occupied by companies of the Line. The Rue de Valois
was choked up by an enormous barricade. The smoke which fluttered about
at the top of it partly opened. Men kept running overhead, making
violent gestures; they vanished from sight; then the firing was again
renewed. It was answered from the guard-house without anyone being seen
inside. Its windows, protected by oaken window-shutters, were pierced
with loop-holes; and the monument with its two storys, its two wings,
its fountain on the first floor and its little door in the centre, was
beginning to be speckled with white spots under the shock of the
bullets. The three steps in front of it remained unoccupied.
At Frederick's side a man in a Greek cap, with a cartridge-box over his
knitted vest, was holding a dispute with a woman with a Madras
neckerchief round her shoulders. She said to him:
"Come back now! Come back!"
"Leave me alone!" replied the husband. "You can easily mind the porter's
lodge by yourself. I ask, citizen, is this fair? I have on every
occasion done my duty--in 1830, in '32, in '34, and in '39! To-day
they're fighting again. I must fight! Go away!"
And the porter's wife ended by yielding to his remonstrances and to
those of a National Guard near them--a man of forty, whose simple face
was adorned with a circle of white beard. He loaded his gun and fired
while talking to Frederick, as cool in the midst of the outbreak as a
horticulturist in his garden. A young lad with a packing-cloth thrown
over him was trying to coax this man to give him a few caps, so that he
might make use of a gun he had, a fine fowling-piece which a "gentleman"
had made him a present of.
"Catch on behind my back," said the good man, "and keep yourself from
being seen, or you'll get yourself killed!"
The drums beat for the charge. Sharp cries, hurrahs of triumph burst
forth. A continual ebbing to and fro made the multitude sway backward
and forward. Frederick, caught between two thick masses of people, did
not move an inch, all the time fascinated and exceedingly amused by the
scene around him. The wounded who sank to the ground, the dead lying at
his feet, did not seem like persons really wounded or really dead. The
impression left on his mind was that he was looking on at a show.
In the midst of the surging throng, above the sea of heads, could be
seen an old man in a black coat, mounted on a white horse with a velvet
saddle. He held in one hand a green bough, in the other a paper, and he
kept shaking them persistently; but at length, giving up all hope of
obtaining a hearing, he withdrew from the scene.
The soldiers of the Line had gone, and only the municipal troops
remained to defend the guard-house. A wave of dauntless spirits dashed
up the steps; they were flung down; others came on to replace them, and
the gate resounded under blows from iron bars. The municipal guards did
not give way. But a wagon, stuffed full of hay, and burning like a
gigantic torch, was dragged against the walls. Faggots were speedily
brought, then straw, and a barrel of spirits of wine. The fire mounted
up to the stones along the wall; the building began to send forth smoke
on all sides like the crater of a volcano; and at its summit, between
the balustrades of the terrace, huge flames escaped with a harsh noise.
The first story of the Palais-Royal was occupied by National Guards.
Shots were fired through every window in the square; the bullets
whizzed, the water of the fountain, which had burst, was mingled with
the blood, forming little pools on the ground. People slipped in the mud
over clothes, shakos, and weapons. Frederick felt something soft under
his foot. It was the hand of a sergeant in a grey great-coat, lying on
his face in the stream that ran along the street. Fresh bands of people
were continually coming up, pushing on the combatants at the
guard-house. The firing became quicker. The wine-shops were open; people
went into them from time to time to smoke a pipe and drink a glass of
beer, and then came back again to fight. A lost dog began to howl. This
made the people laugh.
Frederick was shaken by the impact of a man falling on his shoulder with
a bullet through his back and the death-rattle in his throat. At this
shot, perhaps directed against himself, he felt himself stirred up to
rage; and he was plunging forward when a National Guard stopped him.
"'Tis useless! the King has just gone! Ah! if you don't believe me, go
and see for yourself!"
This assurance calmed Frederick. The Place du Carrousel had a tranquil
aspect. The Hotel de Nantes stood there as fixed as ever; and the houses
in the rear; the dome of the Louvre in front, the long gallery of wood
at the right, and the waste plot of ground that ran unevenly as far as
the sheds of the stall-keepers were, so to speak, steeped in the grey
hues of the atmosphere, where indistinct murmurs seemed to mingle with
the fog; while, at the opposite side of the square, a stiff light,
falling through the parting of the clouds on the facade of the
Tuileries, cut out all its windows into white patches. Near the Arc de
Triomphe a dead horse lay on the ground. Behind the gratings groups
consisting of five or six persons were chatting. The doors leading into
the chateau were open, and the servants at the thresholds allowed the
people to enter.
Below stairs, in a kind of little parlour, bowls of _cafe au lait_ were
handed round. A few of those present sat down to the table and made
merry; others remained standing, and amongst the latter was a
hackney-coachman. He snatched up with both hands a glass vessel full of
powdered sugar, cast a restless glance right and left, and then began to
eat voraciously, with his nose stuck into the mouth of the vessel.
At the bottom of the great staircase a man was writing his name in a
register.
Frederick was able to recognise him by his back.
"Hallo, Hussonnet!"
"Yes, 'tis I," replied the Bohemian. "I am introducing myself at court.
This is a nice joke, isn't it?"
"Suppose we go upstairs?"
And they reached presently the Salle des Marechaux. The portraits of
those illustrious generals, save that of Bugeaud, which had been pierced
through the stomach, were all intact. They were represented leaning on
their sabres with a gun-carriage behind each of them, and in formidable
attitudes in contrast with the occasion. A large timepiece proclaimed it
was twenty minutes past one.
Suddenly the "Marseillaise" resounded. Hussonnet and Frederick bent over
the balusters. It was the people. They rushed up the stairs, shaking
with a dizzying, wave-like motion bare heads, or helmets, or red caps,
or else bayonets or human shoulders with such impetuosity that some
people disappeared every now and then in this swarming mass, which was
mounting up without a moment's pause, like a river compressed by an
equinoctial tide, with a continuous roar under an irresistible impulse.
When they got to the top of the stairs, they were scattered, and their
chant died away. Nothing could any longer be heard but the tramp of all
the shoes intermingled with the chopping sound of many voices. The crowd
not being in a mischievous mood, contented themselves with looking about
them. But, from time to time, an elbow, by pressing too hard, broke
through a pane of glass, or else a vase or a statue rolled from a
bracket down on the floor. The wainscotings cracked under the pressure
of people against them. Every face was flushed; the perspiration was
rolling down their features in large beads. Hussonnet made this remark:
"Heroes have not a good smell."
"Ah! you are provoking," returned Frederick.
And, pushed forward in spite of themselves, they entered an apartment in
which a dais of red velvet rose as far as the ceiling. On the throne
below sat a representative of the proletariat in effigy with a black
beard, his shirt gaping open, a jolly air, and the stupid look of a
baboon. Others climbed up the platform to sit in his place.
"What a myth!" said Hussonnet. "There you see the sovereign people!"
The armchair was lifted up on the hands of a number of persons and
passed across the hall, swaying from one side to the other.
"By Jove, 'tis like a boat! The Ship of State is tossing about in a
stormy sea! Let it dance the cancan! Let it dance the cancan!"
They had drawn it towards a window, and in the midst of hisses, they
launched it out.
"Poor old chap!" said Hussonnet, as he saw the effigy falling into the
garden, where it was speedily picked up in order to be afterwards
carried to the Bastille and burned.
Then a frantic joy burst forth, as if, instead of the throne, a future
of boundless happiness had appeared; and the people, less through a
spirit of vindictiveness than to assert their right of possession, broke
or tore the glasses, the curtains, the lustres, the tapers, the tables,
the chairs, the stools, the entire furniture, including the very albums
and engravings, and the corbels of the tapestry. Since they had
triumphed, they must needs amuse themselves! The common herd ironically
wrapped themselves up in laces and cashmeres. Gold fringes were rolled
round the sleeves of blouses. Hats with ostriches' feathers adorned
blacksmiths' heads, and ribbons of the Legion of Honour supplied
waistbands for prostitutes. Each person satisfied his or her caprice;
some danced, others drank. In the queen's apartment a woman gave a gloss
to her hair with pomatum. Behind a folding-screen two lovers were
playing cards. Hussonnet pointed out to Frederick an individual who was
smoking a dirty pipe with his elbows resting on a balcony; and the
popular frenzy redoubled with a continuous crash of broken porcelain and
pieces of crystal, which, as they rebounded, made sounds resembling
those produced by the plates of musical glasses.
Then their fury was overshadowed. A nauseous curiosity made them rummage
all the dressing-rooms, all the recesses. Returned convicts thrust their
arms into the beds in which princesses had slept, and rolled themselves
on the top of them, to console themselves for not being able to embrace
their owners. Others, with sinister faces, roamed about silently,
looking for something to steal, but too great a multitude was there.
Through the bays of the doors could be seen in the suite of apartments
only the dark mass of people between the gilding of the walls under a
cloud of dust. Every breast was panting. The heat became more and more
suffocating; and the two friends, afraid of being stifled, seized the
opportunity of making their way out.
In the antechamber, standing on a heap of garments, appeared a girl of
the town as a statue of Liberty, motionless, her grey eyes wide open--a
fearful sight.
They had taken three steps outside the chateau when a company of the
National Guards, in great-coats, advanced towards them, and, taking off
their foraging-caps, and, at the same time, uncovering their skulls,
which were slightly bald, bowed very low to the people. At this
testimony of respect, the ragged victors bridled up. Hussonnet and
Frederick were not without experiencing a certain pleasure from it as
well as the rest.
They were filled with ardour. They went back to the Palais-Royal. In
front of the Rue Fromanteau, soldiers' corpses were heaped up on the
straw. They passed close to the dead without a single quiver of emotion,
feeling a certain pride in being able to keep their countenance.
The Palais overflowed with people. In the inner courtyard seven piles of
wood were flaming. Pianos, chests of drawers, and clocks were hurled out
through the windows. Fire-engines sent streams of water up to the roofs.
Some vagabonds tried to cut the hose with their sabres. Frederick urged
a pupil of the Polytechnic School to interfere. The latter did not
understand him, and, moreover, appeared to be an idiot. All around, in
the two galleries, the populace, having got possession of the cellars,
gave themselves up to a horrible carouse. Wine flowed in streams and
wetted people's feet; the mudlarks drank out of the tail-ends of the
bottles, and shouted as they staggered along.
"Come away out of this," said Hussonnet; "I am disgusted with the
people."
All over the Orleans Gallery the wounded lay on mattresses on the
ground, with purple curtains folded round them as coverlets; and the
small shopkeepers' wives and daughters from the quarter brought them
broth and linen.
"No matter!" said Frederick; "for my part, I consider the people
sublime."
The great vestibule was filled with a whirlwind of furious individuals.
Men tried to ascend to the upper storys in order to put the finishing
touches to the work of wholesale destruction. National Guards, on the
steps, strove to keep them back. The most intrepid was a chasseur, who
had his head bare, his hair bristling, and his straps in pieces. His
shirt caused a swelling between his trousers and his coat, and he
struggled desperately in the midst of the others. Hussonnet, who had
sharp sight, recognised Arnoux from a distance.
Then they went into the Tuileries garden, so as to be able to breathe
more freely. They sat down on a bench; and they remained for some
minutes with their eyes closed, so much stunned that they had not the
energy to say a word. The people who were passing came up to them and
informed them that the Duchesse d'Orleans had been appointed Regent, and
that it was all over. They were experiencing that species of comfort
which follows rapid _denouements_, when at the windows of the attics in
the chateau appeared men-servants tearing their liveries to pieces. They
flung their torn clothes into the garden, as a mark of renunciation. The
people hooted at them, and then they retired.
The attention of Frederick and Hussonnet was distracted by a tall fellow
who was walking quickly between the trees with a musket on his shoulder.
A cartridge-box was pressed against his pea-jacket; a handkerchief was
wound round his forehead under his cap. He turned his head to one side.
It was Dussardier; and casting himself into their arms:
"Ah! what good fortune, my poor old friends!" without being able to say
another word, so much out of breath was he with fatigue.
He had been on his legs for the last twenty-four hours. He had been
engaged at the barricades of the Latin Quarter, had fought in the Rue
Rabuteau, had saved three dragoons' lives, had entered the Tuileries
with Colonel Dunoyer, and, after that, had repaired to the Chamber, and
then to the Hotel de Ville.
"I have come from it! all goes well! the people are victorious! the
workmen and the employers are embracing one another. Ha! if you knew
what I have seen! what brave fellows! what a fine sight it was!"
And without noticing that they had no arms:
"I was quite certain of finding you there! This has been a bit rough--no
matter!"
A drop of blood ran down his cheek, and in answer to the questions put
to him by the two others:
"Oh! 'tis nothing! a slight scratch from a bayonet!"
"However, you really ought to take care of yourself."
"Pooh! I am substantial! What does this signify? The Republic is
proclaimed! We'll be happy henceforth! Some journalists, who were
talking just now in front of me, said they were going to liberate Poland
and Italy! No more kings! You understand? The entire land free! the
entire land free!"
And with one comprehensive glance at the horizon, he spread out his arms
in a triumphant attitude. But a long file of men rushed over the terrace
on the water's edge.
"Ah, deuce take it! I was forgetting. I must be off. Good-bye!"
He turned round to cry out to them while brandishing his musket:
"Long live the Republic!"
From the chimneys of the chateau escaped enormous whirlwinds of black
smoke which bore sparks along with them. The ringing of the bells sent
out over the city a wild and startling alarm. Right and left, in every
direction, the conquerors discharged their weapons.
Frederick, though he was not a warrior, felt the Gallic blood leaping in
his veins. The magnetism of the public enthusiasm had seized hold of
him. He inhaled with a voluptuous delight the stormy atmosphere filled
with the odour of gunpowder; and, in the meantime, he quivered under the
effluvium of an immense love, a supreme and universal tenderness, as if
the heart of all humanity were throbbing in his breast.
Hussonnet said with a yawn:
"It would be time, perhaps, to go and instruct the populace."
Frederick followed him to his correspondence-office in the Place de la
Bourse; and he began to compose for the Troyes newspaper an account of
recent events in a lyric style--a veritable tit-bit--to which he
attached his signature. Then they dined together at a tavern. Hussonnet
was pensive; the eccentricities of the Revolution exceeded his own.
After leaving the cafe, when they repaired to the Hotel de Ville to
learn the news, the boyish impulses which were natural to him had got
the upper hand once more. He scaled the barricades like a chamois, and
answered the sentinels with broad jokes of a patriotic flavour.
They heard the Provisional Government proclaimed by torchlight. At last,
Frederick got back to his house at midnight, overcome with fatigue.
"Well," said he to his man-servant, while the latter was undressing him,
"are you satisfied?"
"Yes, no doubt, Monsieur; but I don't like to see the people dancing to
music."
Next morning, when he awoke, Frederick thought of Deslauriers. He
hastened to his friend's lodgings. He ascertained that the advocate had
just left Paris, having been appointed a provincial commissioner. At the
_soiree_ given the night before, he had got into contact with
Ledru-Rollin, and laying siege to him in the name of the Law Schools,
had snatched from him a post, a mission. However, the doorkeeper
explained, he was going to write and give his address in the following
week.
After this, Frederick went to see the Marechale. She gave him a chilling
reception. She resented his desertion of her. Her bitterness disappeared
when he had given her repeated assurances that peace was restored.
All was quiet now. There was no reason to be afraid. He kissed her, and
she declared herself in favour of the Republic, as his lordship the
Archbishop of Paris had already done, and as the magistracy, the Council
of State, the Institute, the marshals of France, Changarnier, M. de
Falloux, all the Bonapartists, all the Legitimists, and a considerable
number of Orleanists were about to do with a swiftness indicative of
marvellous zeal.
The fall of the Monarchy had been so rapid that, as soon as the first
stupefaction that succeeded it had passed away, there was amongst the
middle class a feeling of astonishment at the fact that they were still
alive. The summary execution of some thieves, who were shot without a
trial, was regarded as an act of signal justice. For a month Lamartine's
phrase was repeated with reference to the red flag, "which had only gone
the round of the Champ de Mars, while the tricoloured flag," etc.; and
all ranged themselves under its shade, each party seeing amongst the
three colours only its own, and firmly determined, as soon as it would
be the most powerful, to tear away the two others.
As business was suspended, anxiety and love of gaping drove everyone
into the open air. The careless style of costume generally adopted
attenuated differences of social position. Hatred masked itself;
expectations were openly indulged in; the multitude seemed full of
good-nature. The pride of having gained their rights shone in the
people's faces. They displayed the gaiety of a carnival, the manners of
a bivouac. Nothing could be more amusing than the aspect of Paris during
the first days that followed the Revolution.
Frederick gave the Marechale his arm, and they strolled along through
the streets together. She was highly diverted by the display of rosettes
in every buttonhole, by the banners hung from every window, and the
bills of every colour that were posted upon the walls, and threw some
money here and there into the collection-boxes for the wounded, which
were placed on chairs in the middle of the pathway. Then she stopped
before some caricatures representing Louis Philippe as a pastry-cook, as
a mountebank, as a dog, or as a leech. But she was a little frightened
at the sight of Caussidiere's men with their sabres and scarfs. At other
times it was a tree of Liberty that was being planted. The clergy vied
with each other in blessing the Republic, escorted by servants in gold
lace; and the populace thought this very fine. The most frequent
spectacle was that of deputations from no matter what, going to demand
something at the Hotel de Ville, for every trade, every industry, was
looking to the Government to put a complete end to its wretchedness.
Some of them, it is true, went to offer it advice or to congratulate it,
or merely to pay it a little visit, and to see the machine performing
its functions. One day, about the middle of the month of March, as they
were passing the Pont d'Arcole, having to do some commission for
Rosanette in the Latin Quarter, Frederick saw approaching a column of
individuals with oddly-shaped hats and long beards. At its head, beating
a drum, walked a negro who had formerly been an artist's model; and the
man who bore the banner, on which this inscription floated in the wind,
"Artist-Painters," was no other than Pellerin.
He made a sign to Frederick to wait for him, and then reappeared five
minutes afterwards, having some time before him; for the Government was,
at that moment, receiving a deputation from the stone-cutters. He was
going with his colleagues to ask for the creation of a Forum of Art, a
kind of Exchange where the interests of AEsthetics would be discussed.
Sublime masterpieces would be produced, inasmuch as the workers would
amalgamate their talents. Ere long Paris would be covered with gigantic
monuments. He would decorate them. He had even begun a figure of the
Republic. One of his comrades had come to take it, for they were closely
pursued by the deputation from the poulterers.
"What stupidity!" growled a voice in the crowd. "Always some humbug,
nothing strong!"
It was Regimbart. He did not salute Frederick, but took advantage of the
occasion to give vent to his own bitterness.
The Citizen spent his days wandering about the streets, pulling his
moustache, rolling his eyes about, accepting and propagating any dismal
news that was communicated to him; and he had only two phrases: "Take
care! we're going to be run over!" or else, "Why, confound it! they're
juggling with the Republic!" He was discontented with everything, and
especially with the fact that we had not taken back our natural
frontiers.
The very name of Lamartine made him shrug his shoulders. He did not
consider Ledru-Rollin "sufficient for the problem," referred to Dupont
(of the Eure) as an old numbskull, Albert as an idiot, Louis Blanc as an
Utopist, and Blanqui as an exceedingly dangerous man; and when Frederick
asked him what would be the best thing to do, he replied, pressing his
arm till he nearly bruised it:
"To take the Rhine, I tell you! to take the Rhine, damn it!"
Then he blamed the Reactionaries. They were taking off the mask. The
sack of the chateau of Neuilly and Suresne, the fire at Batignolles, the
troubles at Lyons, all the excesses and all the grievances, were just
now being exaggerated by having superadded to them Ledru-Rollin's
circular, the forced currency of bank-notes, the fall of the funds to
sixty francs, and, to crown all, as the supreme iniquity, a final blow,
a culminating horror, the duty of forty-five centimes! And over and
above all these things, there was again Socialism! Although these
theories, as new as the game of goose, had been discussed sufficiently
for forty years to fill a number of libraries, they terrified the
wealthier citizens, as if they had been a hailstorm of aerolites; and
they expressed indignation at them by virtue of that hatred which the
advent of every idea provokes, simply because it is an idea--an odium
from which it derives subsequently its glory, and which causes its
enemies to be always beneath it, however lowly it may be.
Then Property rose in their regard to the level of Religion, and was
confounded with God. The attacks made on it appeared to them a
sacrilege; almost a species of cannibalism. In spite of the most humane
legislation that ever existed, the spectre of '93 reappeared, and the
chopper of the guillotine vibrated in every syllable of the word
"Republic," which did not prevent them from despising it for its
weakness. France, no longer feeling herself mistress of the situation,
was beginning to shriek with terror, like a blind man without his stick
or an infant that had lost its nurse.
Of all Frenchmen, M. Dambreuse was the most alarmed. The new condition
of things threatened his fortune, but, more than anything else, it
deceived his experience. A system so good! a king so wise! was it
possible? The ground was giving way beneath their feet! Next morning he
dismissed three of his servants, sold his horses, bought a soft hat to
go out into the streets, thought even of letting his beard grow; and he
remained at home, prostrated, reading over and over again newspapers
most hostile to his own ideas, and plunged into such a gloomy mood that
even the jokes about the pipe of Flocon[F] had not the power to make him
smile.
As a supporter of the last reign, he was dreading the vengeance of the
people so far as concerned his estates in Champagne when Frederick's
lucubration fell into his hands. Then it occurred to his mind that his
young friend was a very useful personage, and that he might be able, if
not to serve him, at least to protect him, so that, one morning, M.
Dambreuse presented himself at Frederick's residence, accompanied by
Martinon.
[F] This is another political allusion. Flocon was a well-known member
of the Ministry of the day.--TRANSLATOR.
This visit, he said, had no object save that of seeing him for a little
while, and having a chat with him. In short, he rejoiced at the events
that had happened, and with his whole heart adopted "our sublime motto,
_Liberty, Equality, and Fraternity_," having always been at bottom a
Republican. If he voted under the other _regime_ with the Ministry, it
was simply in order to accelerate an inevitable downfall. He even
inveighed against M. Guizot, "who has got us into a nice hobble, we must
admit!" By way of retaliation, he spoke in an enthusiastic fashion about
Lamartine, who had shown himself "magnificent, upon my word of honour,
when, with reference to the red flag----"
"Yes, I know," said Frederick. After which he declared that his
sympathies were on the side of the working-men.
"For, in fact, more or less, we are all working-men!" And he carried his
impartiality so far as to acknowledge that Proudhon had a certain amount
of logic in his views. "Oh, a great deal of logic, deuce take it!"
Then, with the disinterestedness of a superior mind, he chatted about
the exhibition of pictures, at which he had seen Pellerin's work. He
considered it original and well-painted.
Martinon backed up all he said with expressions of approval; and
likewise was of his opinion that it was necessary to rally boldly to the
side of the Republic. And he talked about the husbandman, his father,
and assumed the part of the peasant, the man of the people. They soon
came to the question of the elections for the National Assembly, and the
candidates in the arrondissement of La Fortelle. The Opposition
candidate had no chance.
"You should take his place!" said M. Dambreuse.
Frederick protested.
"But why not?" For he would obtain the suffrages of the Extremists owing
to his personal opinions, and that of the Conservatives on account of
his family; "And perhaps also," added the banker, with a smile, "thanks
to my influence, in some measure."
Frederick urged as an obstacle that he did not know how to set about it.
There was nothing easier if he only got himself recommended to the
patriots of the Aube by one of the clubs of the capital. All he had to
do was to read out, not a profession of faith such as might be seen
every day, but a serious statement of principles.
"Bring it to me; I know what goes down in the locality; and you can, I
say again, render great services to the country--to us all--to myself."
In such times people ought to aid each other, and, if Frederick had need
of anything, he or his friends----
"Oh, a thousand thanks, my dear Monsieur!"
"You'll do as much for me in return, mind!"
Decidedly, the banker was a decent man.
Frederick could not refrain from pondering over his advice; and soon he
was dazzled by a kind of dizziness.
The great figures of the Convention passed before his mental vision. It
seemed to him that a splendid dawn was about to rise. Rome, Vienna and
Berlin were in a state of insurrection, and the Austrians had been
driven out of Venice. All Europe was agitated. Now was the time to make
a plunge into the movement, and perhaps to accelerate it; and then he
was fascinated by the costume which it was said the deputies would
wear. Already he saw himself in a waistcoat with lapels and a
tricoloured sash; and this itching, this hallucination, became so
violent that he opened his mind to Dambreuse.
The honest fellow's enthusiasm had not abated.
"Certainly--sure enough! Offer yourself!"
Frederick, nevertheless, consulted Deslauriers.
The idiotic opposition which trammelled the commissioner in his province
had augmented his Liberalism. He at once replied, exhorting Frederick
with the utmost vehemence to come forward as a candidate. However, as
the latter was desirous of having the approval of a great number of
persons, he confided the thing to Rosanette one day, when Mademoiselle
Vatnaz happened to be present.
She was one of those Parisian spinsters who, every evening when they
have given their lessons or tried to sell little sketches, or to dispose
of poor manuscripts, return to their own homes with mud on their
petticoats, make their own dinner, which they eat by themselves, and
then, with their soles resting on a foot-warmer, by the light of a
filthy lamp, dream of a love, a family, a hearth, wealth--all that they
lack. So it was that, like many others, she had hailed in the Revolution
the advent of vengeance, and she delivered herself up to a Socialistic
propaganda of the most unbridled description.
The enfranchisement of the proletariat, according to the Vatnaz, was
only possible by the enfranchisement of woman. She wished to have her
own sex admitted to every kind of employment, to have an enquiry made
into the paternity of children, a different code, the abolition, or at
least a more intelligent regulation, of marriage. In that case every
Frenchwoman would be bound to marry a Frenchman, or to adopt an old
man. Nurses and midwives should be officials receiving salaries from the
State.
There should be a jury to examine the works of women, special editors
for women, a polytechnic school for women, a National Guard for women,
everything for women! And, since the Government ignored their rights,
they ought to overcome force by force. Ten thousand citizenesses with
good guns ought to make the Hotel de Ville quake!
Frederick's candidature appeared to her favourable for carrying out her
ideas. She encouraged him, pointing out the glory that shone on the
horizon. Rosanette was delighted at the notion of having a man who would
make speeches at the Chamber.
"And then, perhaps, they'll give you a good place?"
Frederick, a man prone to every kind of weakness, was infected by the
universal mania. He wrote an address and went to show it to M.
Dambreuse.
At the sound made by the great door falling back, a curtain gaped open a
little behind a casement, and a woman appeared at it He had not time to
find out who she was; but, in the anteroom, a picture arrested his
attention--Pellerin's picture--which lay on a chair, no doubt
provisionally.
It represented the Republic, or Progress, or Civilisation, under the
form of Jesus Christ driving a locomotive, which was passing through a
virgin forest. Frederick, after a minute's contemplation, exclaimed:
"What a vile thing!"
"Is it not--eh?" said M. Dambreuse, coming in unexpectedly just at the
moment when the other was giving utterance to this opinion, and fancying
that it had reference, not so much to the picture as to the doctrine
glorified by the work. Martinon presented himself at the same time. They
made their way into the study, and Frederick was drawing a paper out of
his pocket, when Mademoiselle Cecile, entering suddenly, said,
articulating her words in an ingenuous fashion:
"Is my aunt here?"
"You know well she is not," replied the banker. "No matter! act as if
you were at home, Mademoiselle."
"Oh! thanks! I am going away!"
Scarcely had she left when Martinon seemed to be searching for his
handkerchief.
"I forgot to take it out of my great-coat--excuse me!"
"All right!" said M. Dambreuse.
Evidently he was not deceived by this manoeuvre, and even seemed to
regard it with favour. Why? But Martinon soon reappeared, and Frederick
began reading his address.
At the second page, which pointed towards the preponderance of the
financial interests as a disgraceful fact, the banker made a grimace.
Then, touching on reforms, Frederick demanded free trade.
"What? Allow me, now!"
The other paid no attention, and went on. He called for a tax on yearly
incomes, a progressive tax, a European federation, and the education of
the people, the encouragement of the fine arts on the liberal scale.
"When the country could provide men like Delacroix or Hugo with incomes
of a hundred thousand francs, where would be the harm?"
At the close of the address advice was given to the upper classes.
"Spare nothing, ye rich; but give! give!"
He stopped, and remained standing. The two who had been listening to him
did not utter a word. Martinon opened his eyes wide; M. Dambreuse was
quite pale. At last, concealing his emotion under a bitter smile:
"That address of yours is simply perfect!" And he praised the style
exceedingly in order to avoid giving his opinion as to the matter of the
address.
This virulence on the part of an inoffensive young man frightened him,
especially as a sign of the times.
Martinon tried to reassure him. The Conservative party, in a little
while, would certainly be able to take its revenge. In several cities
the commissioners of the provisional government had been driven away;
the elections were not to occur till the twenty-third of April; there
was plenty of time. In short, it was necessary for M. Dambreuse to
present himself personally in the Aube; and from that time forth,
Martinon no longer left his side, became his secretary, and was as
attentive to him as any son could be.
Frederick arrived at Rosanette's house in a very self-complacent mood.
Delmar happened to be there, and told him of his intention to stand as a
candidate at the Seine elections. In a placard addressed to the people,
in which he addressed them in the familiar manner which one adopts
towards an individual, the actor boasted of being able to understand
them, and of having, in order to save them, got himself "crucified for
the sake of art," so that he was the incarnation, the ideal of the
popular spirit, believing that he had, in fact, such enormous power over
the masses that he proposed by-and-by, when he occupied a ministerial
office, to quell any outbreak by himself alone; and, with regard to the
means he would employ, he gave this answer: "Never fear! I'll show them
my head!"
Frederick, in order to mortify him, gave him to understand that he was
himself a candidate. The mummer, from the moment that his future
colleague aspired to represent the province, declared himself his
servant, and offered to be his guide to the various clubs.
They visited them, or nearly all, the red and the blue, the furious and
the tranquil, the puritanical and the licentious, the mystical and the
intemperate, those that had voted for the death of kings, and those in
which the frauds in the grocery trade had been denounced; and everywhere
the tenants cursed the landlords; the blouse was full of spite against
broadcloth; and the rich conspired against the poor. Many wanted
indemnities on the ground that they had formerly been martyrs of the
police; others appealed for money in order to carry out certain
inventions, or else there were plans of phalansteria, projects for
cantonal bazaars, systems of public felicity; then, here and there a
flash of genius amid these clouds of folly, sudden as splashes, the law
formulated by an oath, and flowers of eloquence on the lips of some
soldier-boy, with a shoulder-belt strapped over his bare, shirtless
chest. Sometimes, too, a gentleman made his appearance--an aristocrat of
humble demeanour, talking in a plebeian strain, and with his hands
unwashed, so as to make them look hard. A patriot recognised him; the
most virtuous mobbed him; and he went off with rage in his soul. On the
pretext of good sense, it was desirable to be always disparaging the
advocates, and to make use as often as possible of these expressions:
"To carry his stone to the building," "social problem," "workshop."
Delmar did not miss the opportunities afforded him for getting in a
word; and when he no longer found anything to say, his device was to
plant himself in some conspicuous position with one of his arms akimbo
and the other in his waistcoat, turning himself round abruptly in
profile, so as to give a good view of his head. Then there were
outbursts of applause, which came from Mademoiselle Vatnaz at the lower
end of the hall.
Frederick, in spite of the weakness of orators, did not dare to try the
experiment of speaking. All those people seemed to him too unpolished or
too hostile.
But Dussardier made enquiries, and informed him that there existed in
the Rue Saint-Jacques a club which bore the name of the "Club of
Intellect." Such a name gave good reason for hope. Besides, he would
bring some friends there.
He brought those whom he had invited to take punch with him--the
bookkeeper, the traveller in wines, and the architect; even Pellerin had
offered to come, and Hussonnet would probably form one of the party, and
on the footpath before the door stood Regimbart, with two individuals,
the first of whom was his faithful Compain, a rather thick-set man
marked with small-pox and with bloodshot eyes; and the second, an
ape-like negro, exceedingly hairy, and whom he knew only in the
character of "a patriot from Barcelona."
They passed though a passage, and were then introduced into a large
room, no doubt used by a joiner, and with walls still fresh and
smelling of plaster. Four argand lamps were hanging parallel to each
other, and shed an unpleasant light. On a platform, at the end of the
room, there was a desk with a bell; underneath it a table, representing
the rostrum, and on each side two others, somewhat lower, for the
secretaries. The audience that adorned the benches consisted of old
painters of daubs, ushers, and literary men who could not get their
works published.
In the midst of those lines of paletots with greasy collars could be
seen here and there a woman's cap or a workman's linen smock. The bottom
of the apartment was even full of workmen, who had in all likelihood
come there to pass away an idle hour, and who had been introduced by
some speakers in order that they might applaud.
Frederick took care to place himself between Dussardier and Regimbart,
who was scarcely seated when he leaned both hands on his walking-stick
and his chin on his hands and shut his eyes, whilst at the other end of
the room Delmar stood looking down at the assembly. Senecal appeared at
the president's desk.
The worthy bookkeeper thought Frederick would be pleased at this
unexpected discovery. It only annoyed him.
The meeting exhibited great respect for the president. He was one who,
on the twenty-fifth of February, had desired an immediate organisation
of labour. On the following day, at the Prado, he had declared himself
in favour attacking the Hotel de Ville; and, as every person at that
period took some model for imitation, one copied Saint-Just, another
Danton, another Marat; as for him, he tried to be like Blanqui, who
imitated Robespierre. His black gloves, and his hair brushed back, gave
him a rigid aspect exceedingly becoming.
He opened the proceedings with the declaration of the Rights of Man and
of the Citizen--a customary act of faith. Then, a vigorous voice struck
up Beranger's "Souvenirs du Peuple."
Other voices were raised:
"No! no! not that!"
"'La Casquette!'" the patriots at the bottom of the apartment began to
howl.
And they sang in chorus the favourite lines of the period:
"Doff your hat before my cap--
Kneel before the working-man!"
At a word from the president the audience became silent.
One of the secretaries proceeded to inspect the letters.
Some young men announced that they burned a number of the _Assemblee
Nationale_ every evening in front of the Pantheon, and they urged on all
patriots to follow their example.
"Bravo! adopted!" responded the audience.
The Citizen Jean Jacques Langreneux, a printer in the Rue Dauphin, would
like to have a monument raised to the memory of the martyrs of
Thermidor.
Michel Evariste Nepomucene, ex-professor, gave expression to the wish
that the European democracy should adopt unity of language. A dead
language might be used for that purpose--as, for example, improved
Latin.
"No; no Latin!" exclaimed the architect.
"Why?" said the college-usher.
And these two gentlemen engaged in a discussion, in which the others
also took part, each putting in a word of his own for effect; and the
conversation on this topic soon became so tedious that many went away.
But a little old man, who wore at the top of his prodigiously high
forehead a pair of green spectacles, asked permission to speak in order
to make an important communication.
It was a memorandum on the assessment of taxes. The figures flowed on in
a continuous stream, as if they were never going to end. The impatience
of the audience found vent at first in murmurs, in whispered talk. He
allowed nothing to put him out. Then they began hissing; they catcalled
him. Senecal called the persons who were interrupting to order. The
orator went on like a machine. It was necessary to catch him by the
shoulder in order to stop him. The old fellow looked as if he were
waking out of a dream, and, placidly lifting his spectacles, said:
"Pardon me, citizens! pardon me! I am going--a thousand excuses!"
Frederick was disconcerted with the failure of the old man's attempts to
read this written statement. He had his own address in his pocket, but
an extemporaneous speech would have been preferable.
Finally the president announced that they were about to pass on to the
important matter, the electoral question. They would not discuss the big
Republican lists. However, the "Club of Intellect" had every right, like
every other, to form one, "with all respect for the pachas of the Hotel
de Ville," and the citizens who solicited the popular mandate might set
forth their claims.
"Go on, now!" said Dussardier.
A man in a cassock, with woolly hair and a petulant expression on his
face, had already raised his hand. He said, with a stutter, that his
name was Ducretot, priest and agriculturist, and that he was the author
of a work entitled "Manures." He was told to send it to a horticultural
club.
Then a patriot in a blouse climbed up into the rostrum. He was a
plebeian, with broad shoulders, a big face, very mild-looking, with long
black hair. He cast on the assembly an almost voluptuous glance, flung
back his head, and, finally, spreading out his arms:
"You have repelled Ducretot, O my brothers! and you have done right; but
it was not through irreligion, for we are all religious."
Many of those present listened open-mouthed, with the air of catechumens
and in ecstatic attitudes.
"It is not either because he is a priest, for we, too, are priests! The
workman is a priest, just as the founder of Socialism was--the Master of
us all, Jesus Christ!"
The time had arrived to inaugurate the Kingdom of God. The Gospel led
directly to '89. After the abolition of slavery, the abolition of the
proletariat. They had had the age of hate--the age of love was about to
begin.
"Christianity is the keystone and the foundation of the new edifice----"
"You are making game of us?" exclaimed the traveller in wines. "Who has
given me such a priest's cap?"
This interruption gave great offence. Nearly all the audience got on
benches, and, shaking their fists, shouted: "Atheist! aristocrat! low
rascal!" whilst the president's bell kept ringing continuously, and the
cries of "Order! order!" redoubled. But, aimless, and, moreover,
fortified by three cups of coffee which he had swallowed before coming
to the meeting, he struggled in the midst of the others:
"What? I an aristocrat? Come, now!"
When, at length, he was permitted to give an explanation, he declared
that he would never be at peace with the priests; and, since something
had just been said about economical measures, it would be a splendid one
to put an end to the churches, the sacred pyxes, and finally all creeds.
Somebody raised the objection that he was going very far.
"Yes! I am going very far! But, when a vessel is caught suddenly in a
storm----"
Without waiting for the conclusion of this simile, another made a reply
to his observation:
"Granted! But this is to demolish at a single stroke, like a mason
devoid of judgment----"
"You are insulting the masons!" yelled a citizen covered with plaster.
And persisting in the belief that provocation had been offered to him,
he vomited forth insults, and wished to fight, clinging tightly to the
bench whereon he sat. It took no less than three men to put him out.
Meanwhile the workman still remained on the rostrum. The two secretaries
gave him an intimation that he should come down. He protested against
the injustice done to him.
"You shall not prevent me from crying out, 'Eternal love to our dear
France! eternal love all to the Republic!'"
"Citizens!" said Compain, after this--"Citizens!"
And, by dint of repeating "Citizens," having obtained a little silence,
he leaned on the rostrum with his two red hands, which looked like
stumps, bent forward his body, and blinking his eyes:
"I believe that it would be necessary to give a larger extension to the
calf's head."
All who heard him kept silent, fancying that they had misunderstood his
words.
"Yes! the calf's head!"
Three hundred laughs burst forth at the same time. The ceiling shook.
At the sight of all these faces convulsed with mirth, Compain shrank
back. He continued in an angry tone:
"What! you don't know what the calf's head is!"
It was a paroxysm, a delirium. They held their sides. Some of them even
tumbled off the benches to the ground with convulsions of laughter.
Compain, not being able to stand it any longer, took refuge beside
Regimbart, and wanted to drag him away.
"No! I am remaining till 'tis all over!" said the Citizen.
This reply caused Frederick to make up his mind; and, as he looked about
to the right and the left to see whether his friends were prepared to
support him, he saw Pellerin on the rostrum in front of him.
The artist assumed a haughty tone in addressing the meeting.
"I would like to get some notion as to who is the candidate amongst all
these that represents art. For my part, I have painted a picture."
"We have nothing to do with painting pictures!" was the churlish remark
of a thin man with red spots on his cheek-bones.
Pellerin protested against this interruption.
But the other, in a tragic tone:
"Ought not the Government to make an ordinance abolishing prostitution
and want?"
And this phrase having at once won to his side the popular favour, he
thundered against the corruption of great cities.
"Shame and infamy! We ought to catch hold of wealthy citizens on their
way out of the Maison d'Or and spit in their faces--unless it be that
the Government countenances debauchery! But the collectors of the city
dues exhibit towards our daughters and our sisters an amount of
indecency----"
A voice exclaimed, some distance away:
"This is blackguard language! Turn him out!"
"They extract taxes from us to pay for licentiousness! Thus, the high
salaries paid to actors----"
"Help!" cried Pellerin.
He leaped from the rostrum, pushed everybody aside, and declaring that
he regarded such stupid accusations with disgust, expatiated on the
civilising mission of the player. Inasmuch as the theatre was the focus
of national education, he would record his vote for the reform of the
theatre; and to begin with, no more managements, no more privileges!
"Yes; of any sort!"
The actor's performance excited the audience, and people moved backwards
and forwards knocking each other down.
"No more academies! No more institutes!"
"No missions!"
"No more bachelorships! Down with University degrees!"
"Let us preserve them," said Senecal; "but let them be conferred by
universal suffrage, by the people, the only true judge!"
Besides, these things were not the most useful. It was necessary to take
a level which would be above the heads of the wealthy. And he
represented them as gorging themselves with crimes under their gilded
ceilings; while the poor, writhing in their garrets with famine,
cultivated every virtue. The applause became so vehement that he
interrupted his discourse. For several minutes he remained with his eyes
closed, his head thrown back, and, as it were, lulling himself to sleep
over the fury which he had aroused.
Then he began to talk in a dogmatic fashion, in phrases as imperious as
laws. The State should take possession of the banks and of the insurance
offices. Inheritances should be abolished. A social fund should be
established for the workers. Many other measures were desirable in the
future. For the time being, these would suffice, and, returning to the
question of the elections: "We want pure citizens, men entirely fresh.
Let some one offer himself."
Frederick arose. There was a buzz of approval made by his friends. But
Senecal, assuming the attitude of a Fouquier-Tinville, began to ask
questions as to his Christian name and surname, his antecedents, life,
and morals.
Frederick answered succinctly, and bit his lips. Senecal asked whether
anyone saw any impediment to this candidature.
"No! no!"
But, for his part, he saw some. All around him bent forward and strained
their ears to listen. The citizen who was seeking for their support had
not delivered a certain sum promised by him for the foundation of a
democratic journal. Moreover, on the twenty-second of February, though
he had had sufficient notice on the subject, he had failed to be at the
meeting-place in the Place de Pantheon.
"I swear that he was at the Tuileries!" exclaimed Dussardier.
"Can you swear to having seen him at the Pantheon?"
Dussardier hung down his head. Frederick was silent. His friends,
scandalised, regarded him with disquietude.
"In any case," Senecal went on, "do you know a patriot who will answer
to us for your principles?"
"I will!" said Dussardier.
"Oh! this is not enough; another!"
Frederick turned round to Pellerin. The artist replied to him with a
great number of gestures, which meant:
"Ah! my dear boy, they have rejected myself! The deuce! What would you
have?"
Thereupon Frederick gave Regimbart a nudge.
"Yes, that's true; 'tis time! I'm going."
And Regimbart stepped upon the platform; then, pointing towards the
Spaniard, who had followed him:
"Allow me, citizens, to present to you a patriot from Barcelona!"
The patriot made a low bow, rolled his gleaming eyes about, and with his
hand on his heart:
"Ciudadanos! mucho aprecio el honor that you have bestowed on me!
however great may be vuestra bondad, mayor vuestra atencion!"
"I claim the right to speak!" cried Frederick.
"Desde que se proclamo la constitution de Cadiz, ese pacto fundamental
of las libertades Espanolas, hasta la ultima revolucion, nuestra patria
cuenta numerosos y heroicos martires."
Frederick once more made an effort to obtain a hearing:
"But, citizens!----"
The Spaniard went on: "El martes proximo tendra lugar en la iglesia de
la Magdelena un servicio funebre."
"In fact, this is ridiculous! Nobody understands him!"
This observation exasperated the audience.
"Turn him out! Turn him out!"
"Who? I?" asked Frederick.
"Yourself!" said Senecal, majestically. "Out with you!"
He rose to leave, and the voice of the Iberian pursued him:
"Y todos los Espanoles descarien ver alli reunidas las disputaciones de
los clubs y de la milicia nacional. An oracion funebre en honour of the
libertad Espanola y del mundo entero will be prononciado por un miembro
del clero of Paris en la sala Bonne Nouvelle. Honour al pueblo frances
que llamaria yo el primero pueblo del mundo, sino fuese ciudadano de
otra nacion!"
"Aristo!" screamed one blackguard, shaking his fist at Frederick, as the
latter, boiling with indignation, rushed out into the yard adjoining the
place where the meeting was held.
He reproached himself for his devotedness, without reflecting that,
after all, the accusations brought against him were just.
What fatal idea was this candidature! But what asses! what idiots! He
drew comparisons between himself and these men, and soothed his wounded
pride with the thought of their stupidity.
Then he felt the need of seeing Rosanette. After such an exhibition of
ugly traits, and so much magniloquence, her dainty person would be a
source of relaxation. She was aware that he had intended to present
himself at a club that evening. However, she did not even ask him a
single question when he came in. She was sitting near the fire, ripping
open the lining of a dress. He was surprised to find her thus occupied.
"Hallo! what are you doing?"
"You can see for yourself," said she, dryly. "I am mending my clothes!
So much for this Republic of yours!"
"Why do you call it mine?"
"Perhaps you want to make out that it's mine!"
And she began to upbraid him for everything that had happened in France
for the last two months, accusing him of having brought about the
Revolution and with having ruined her prospects by making everybody that
had money leave Paris, and that she would by-and-by be dying in a
hospital.
"It is easy for you to talk lightly about it, with your yearly income!
However, at the rate at which things are going on, you won't have your
yearly income long."
"That may be," said Frederick. "The most devoted are always
misunderstood, and if one were not sustained by one's conscience, the
brutes that you mix yourself up with would make you feel disgusted with
your own self-denial!"
Rosanette gazed at him with knitted brows.
"Eh? What? What self-denial? Monsieur has not succeeded, it would seem?
So much the better! It will teach you to make patriotic donations. Oh,
don't lie! I know you have given them three hundred francs, for this
Republic of yours has to be kept. Well, amuse yourself with it, my good
man!"
Under this avalanche of abuse, Frederick passed from his former
disappointment to a more painful disillusion.
He withdrew to the lower end of the apartment. She came up to him.
"Look here! Think it out a bit! In a country as in a house, there must
be a master, otherwise, everyone pockets something out of the money
spent. At first, everybody knows that Ledru-Rollin is head over ears in
debt. As for Lamartine, how can you expect a poet to understand
politics? Ah! 'tis all very well for you to shake your head and to
presume that you have more brains than others; all the same, what I say
is true! But you are always cavilling; a person can't get in a word with
you! For instance, there's Fournier-Fontaine, who had stores at
Saint-Roch! do you know how much he failed for? Eight hundred thousand
francs! And Gomer, the packer opposite to him--another Republican, that
one--he smashed the tongs on his wife's head, and he drank so much
absinthe that he is going to be put into a private asylum. That's the
way with the whole of them--the Republicans! A Republic at twenty-five
percent. Ah! yes! plume yourself upon it!"
Frederick took himself off. He was disgusted at the foolishness of this
girl, which revealed itself all at once in the language of the populace.
He felt himself even becoming a little patriotic once more.
The ill-temper of Rosanette only increased. Mademoiselle Vatnaz
irritated him with her enthusiasm. Believing that she had a mission,
she felt a furious desire to make speeches, to carry on disputes,
and--sharper than Rosanette in matters of this sort--overwhelmed her
with arguments.
One day she made her appearance burning with indignation against
Hussonnet, who had just indulged in some blackguard remarks at the
Woman's Club. Rosanette approved of this conduct, declaring even that
she would take men's clothes to go and "give them a bit of her mind, the
entire lot of them, and to whip them."
Frederick entered at the same moment.
"You'll accompany me--won't you?"
And, in spite of his presence, a bickering match took place between
them, one of them playing the part of a citizen's wife and the other of
a female philosopher.
According to Rosanette, women were born exclusively for love, or in
order to bring up children, to be housekeepers.
According to Mademoiselle Vatnaz, women ought to have a position in the
Government. In former times, the Gaulish women, and also the Anglo-Saxon
women, took part in the legislation; the squaws of the Hurons formed a
portion of the Council. The work of civilisation was common to both. It
was necessary that all should contribute towards it, and that fraternity
should be substituted for egoism, association for individualism, and
cultivation on a large scale for minute subdivision of land.
"Come, that is good! you know a great deal about culture just now!"
"Why not? Besides, it is a question of humanity, of its future!"
"Mind your own business!"
"This is my business!"
They got into a passion. Frederick interposed. The Vatnaz became very
heated, and went so far as to uphold Communism.
"What nonsense!" said Rosanette. "How could such a thing ever come to
pass?"
The other brought forward in support of her theory the examples of the
Essenes, the Moravian Brethren, the Jesuits of Paraguay, the family of
the Pingons near Thiers in Auvergne; and, as she gesticulated a great
deal, her gold chain got entangled in her bundle of trinkets, to which
was attached a gold ornament in the form of a sheep.
Suddenly, Rosanette turned exceedingly pale.
Mademoiselle Vatnaz continued extricating her trinkets.
"Don't give yourself so much trouble," said Rosanette. "Now, I know your
political opinions."
"What?" replied the Vatnaz, with a blush on her face like that of a
virgin.
"Oh! oh! you understand me."
Frederick did not understand. There had evidently been something taking
place between them of a more important and intimate character than
Socialism.
"And even though it should be so," said the Vatnaz in reply, rising up
unflinchingly. "'Tis a loan, my dear--set off one debt against the
other."
"Faith, I don't deny my own debts. I owe some thousands of francs--a
nice sum. I borrow, at least; I don't rob anyone."
Mademoiselle Vatnaz made an effort to laugh.
"Oh! I would put my hand in the fire for him."
"Take care! it is dry enough to burn."
The spinster held out her right hand to her, and keeping it raised in
front of her:
"But there are friends of yours who find it convenient for them."
"Andalusians, I suppose? as castanets?"
"You beggar!"
The Marechale made her a low bow.
"There's nobody so charming!"
Mademoiselle Vatnaz made no reply. Beads of perspiration appeared on her
temples. Her eyes fixed themselves on the carpet. She panted for breath.
At last she reached the door, and slamming it vigorously: "Good night!
You'll hear from me!"
"Much I care!" said Rosanette. The effort of self-suppression had
shattered her nerves. She sank down on the divan, shaking all over,
stammering forth words of abuse, shedding tears. Was it this threat on
the part of the Vatnaz that had caused so much agitation in her mind?
Oh, no! what did she care, indeed, about that one? It was the golden
sheep, a present, and in the midst of her tears the name of Delmar
escaped her lips. So, then, she was in love with the mummer?