Dutocq. “Proscribe a thing and you recognize it.”
Bixiou. “Good! my little man.”
Poiret. “Dear me!”
Fleury. “True! when one refuses to pay one’s debts, that’s recognizing them.”
Thuillier. “You would make famous lawyers.”
Poiret. “I am as curious as Monsieur Phellion to know what grounds Monsieur Bixiou has for — ”
Bixiou [shouting across the office]. “Du Bruel! Will you bet?”
Du Bruel [appearing at the door]. “Heavens and earth, gentlemen, I’m very busy; I have something very difficult to do; I’ve got to write an obituary notice of Monsieur de la Billardiere. I do beg you to be quiet; you can laugh and bet afterwards.”
Bixiou. “That’s true, du Bruel; the praise of an honest man is a very difficult thing to write. I’d rather any day draw a caricature of him.”
Du Bruel. “Do come and help me, Bixiou.”
Bixiou [following him]. “I’m willing; though I can do such things much better when eating.”
Du Bruel. “Well, we will go and dine together afterwards. But listen, this is what I have written” [reads] “‘The Church and the Monarchy are daily losing many of those who fought for them in Revolutionary times.’”
Bixiou. “Bad, very bad; why don’t you say, ‘Death carries on its ravages amongst the few surviving defenders of the monarchy and the old and faithful servants of the King, whose heart bleeds under these reiterated blows?’” [Du Bruel writes rapidly.] “‘Monsieur le Baron Flamet de la Billardiere died this morning of dropsy, caused by heart disease.’ You see, it is just as well to show there are hearts in government offices; and you ought to slip in a little flummery about the emotions of the Royalists during the Terror, — might be useful, hey! But stay, — no! the petty papers would be sure to say the emotions came more from the stomach than the heart. Better leave that out. What are you writing now?”
Du Bruel [reading]. “‘Issuing from an old parliamentary stock in which devotion to the throne was hereditary, as was also attachment to the faith of our fathers, Monsieur de la Billardiere — ’”
Bixiou. “Better say Monsieur le Baron de la Billardiere.”
Du Bruel. “But he wasn’t baron in 1793.”
Bixiou. “No matter. Don’t you remember that under the Empire Fouche was telling an anecdote about the Convention, in which he had to quote Robespierre, and he said, ‘Robespierre called out to me, “Duc d’Otrante, go to the Hotel de Ville.”‘ There’s a precedent for you!”
Du Bruel. “Let me just write that down; I can use it in a vaudeville. — But to go back to what we were saying. I don’t want to put ‘Monsieur le baron,’ because I am reserving his honors till the last, when they rained upon him.”
Bixiou. “Oh! very good; that’s theatrical, — the finale of the article.”
Du Bruel [continuing]. “‘In appointing Monsieur de la Billardiere gentleman-in-ordinary — ’”
Bixiou. “Very ordinary!”
Du Bruel. “‘ — of the Bedchamber, the King rewarded not only the services rendered by the Provost, who knew how to harmonize the severity of his functions with the customary urbanity of the Bourbons, but the bravery of the Vendean hero, who never bent the knee to the imperial idol. He leaves a son, who inherits his loyalty and his talents.’”
Bixiou. “Don’t you think all that is a little too florid? I should tone down the poetry. ‘Imperial idol!’ ‘bent the knee!’ damn it, my dear fellow, writing vaudevilles has ruined your style; you can’t come down to pedestrial prose. I should say, ‘He belonged to the small number of those who.’ Simplify, simplify! the man himself was a simpleton.”
Du Bruel. “That’s vaudeville, if you like! You would make your fortune at the theatre, Bixiou.”
Bixiou. “What have you said about Quiberon?” [Reads over du Bruel’s shoulder.] “Oh, that won’t do! Here, this is what you must say: ‘He took upon himself, in a book recently published, the responsibility for all the blunders of the expedition to Quiberon, — thus proving the nature of his loyalty, which did not shrink from any sacrifice.’ That’s clever and witty, and exalts La Billardiere.”
Du Bruel. “At whose expense?”
Bixiou [solemn as a priest in a pulpit]. “Why, Hoche and Tallien, of course; don’t you read history?”
Du Bruel. “No. I subscribed to the Baudouin series, but I’ve never had time to open a volume; one can’t find matter for vaudevilles there.”
Phellion [at the door]. “We all want to know, Monsieur Bixiou, what made you think that the worthy and honorable Monsieur Rabourdin, who has so long done the work of this division for Monsieur de la Billardiere, — he, who is the senior head of all the bureaus, and whom, moreover, the minister summoned as soon as he heard of the departure of the late Monsieur de la Billardiere, — will not be appointed head of the division.”
Bixiou. “Papa Phellion, you know geography?”
Phellion [bridling up]. “I should say so!”
Bixiou. “And history?”
Phellion [affecting modesty]. “Possibly.”
Bixiou [looking fixedly at him]. “Your diamond pin is loose, it is coming out. Well, you may know all that, but you don’t know the human heart; you have gone no further in the geography and history of that organ than you have in the environs of the city of Paris.”
Poiret [to Vimeux]. “Environs of Paris? I thought they were talking of Monsieur Rabourdin.”
Bixiou. “About that bet? Does the entire bureau Rabourdin bet against me?”
All. “Yes.”
Bixiou. “Du Bruel, do you count in?”
Du Bruel. “Of course I do. We want Rabourdin to go up a step and make room for others.”
Bixiou. “Well, I accept the bet, — for this reason; you can hardly understand it, but I’ll tell it to you all the same. It would be right and just to appoint Monsieur Rabourdin” [looking full at Dutocq], “because, in that case, long and faithful service, honor, and talent would be recognized, appreciated, and properly rewarded. Such an appointment is in the best interests of the administration.” [Phellion, Poiret, and Thuillier listen stupidly, with the look of those who try to peer before them in the darkness.] “Well, it is just because the promotion would be so fitting, and because the man has such merit, and because the measure is so eminently wise and equitable that I bet Rabourdin will not be appointed. Yes, you’ll see, that appointment will slip up, just like the invasion from Boulogne, and the march to Russia, for the success of which a great genius has gathered together all the chances. It will fail as all good and just things do fail in this low world. I am only backing the devil’s game.”
Du Bruel. “Who do you think will be appointed?”
Bixiou. “The more I think about Baudoyer, the more sure I feel that he unites all the opposite qualities; therefore I think he will be the next head of this division.”
Dutocq. “But Monsieur des Lupeaulx, who sent for me to borrow my Charlet, told me positively that Monsieur Rabourdin was appointed, and that the little La Billardiere would be made Clerk of the Seals.”
Bixiou. “Appointed, indeed! The appointment can’t be made and signed under ten days. It will certainly not be known before New-Year’s day. There he goes now across the courtyard; look at him, and say if the virtuous Rabourdin looks like a man in the sunshine of favor. I should say he knows he’s dismissed.” [Fleury rushes to the window.] “Gentlemen, adieu; I’ll go and tell Monsieur Baudoyer that I hear from you that Rabourdin is appointed; it will make him furious, the pious creature! Then I’ll tell him of our wager, to cool him down, — a process we call at the theatre turning the Wheel of Fortune, don’t we, du Bruel? Why do I care who gets the place? simply because if Baudoyer does he will make me under-head-clerk” [goes out].
Poiret. “Everybody says that man is clever, but as for me, I can never understand a word he says” [goes on copying]. “I listen and listen; I hear words, but I never get at any meaning; he talks about the environs of
Paris when he discusses the human heart and” [lays down his pen and goes to the stove] “declares he backs the devil’s game when it is a question of Russia and Boulogne; now what is there so clever in that, I’d like to know? We must first admit that the devil plays any game at all, and then find out what game; possibly dominoes” [blows his nose].
Fleury [interrupting]. “Pere Poiret is blowing his nose; it must be eleven o’clock.”
Du Bruel. “So it is! Goodness! I’m off to the secretary; he wants to read the obituary.”
Poiret. “What was I saying?”
Thuillier. “Dominoes, — perhaps the devil plays dominoes.” [Sebastien enters to gather up the different papers and circulars for signature.]
Vimeux. “Ah! there you are, my fine young man. Your days of hardship are nearly over; you’ll get a post. Monsieur Rabourdin will be appointed. Weren’t you at Madame Rabourdin’s last night? Lucky fellow! they say that really superb women go there.”
Sebastien. “Do they? I didn’t know.”
Fleury. “Are you blind?”
Sebastien. “I don’t like to look at what I ought not to see.”
Phellion [delighted]. “Well said, young man!”
Vimeux. “The devil! well, you looked at Madame Rabourdin enough, any how; a charming woman.”
Fleury. “Pooh! thin as a rail. I saw her in the Tuileries, and I much prefer Percilliee, the ballet-mistress, Castaing’s victim.”
Phellion. “What has an actress to do with the wife of a government official?”
Dutocq. “They both play comedy.”
Fleury [looking askance at Dutocq]. “The physical has nothing to do with the moral, and if you mean — ”
Dutocq. “I mean nothing.”
Fleury. “Do you all want to know which of us will really be made head of this bureau?”
All. “Yes, tell us.”
Fleury. “Colleville.”
Thuillier. “Why?”
Fleury. “Because Madame Colleville has taken the shortest way to it — through the sacristy.”
Thuillier. “I am too much Colleville’s friend not to beg you, Monsieur Fleury, to speak respectfully of his wife.”
Phellion. “A defenceless woman should never be made the subject of conversation here — ”
Vimeux. “All the more because the charming Madame Colleville won’t invite Fleury to her house. He backbites her in revenge.”
Fleury. “She may not receive me on the same footing that she does Thuillier, but I go there — ”
Thuillier. “When? how? — under her windows?”
Though Fleury was dreaded as a bully in all the offices, he received Thuillier’s speech in silence. This meekness, which surprised the other clerks, was owing to a certain note for two hundred francs, of doubtful value, which Thuillier agreed to pass over to his sister. After this skirmish dead silence prevailed. They all wrote steadily from one to three o’clock. Du Bruel did not return.
About half-past three the usual preparations for departure, the brushing of hats, the changing of coats, went on in all the ministerial offices. That precious thirty minutes thus employed served to shorten by just so much the day’s labor. At this hour the over-heated rooms cool off; the peculiar odor that hangs about the bureaus evaporates; silence is restored. By four o’clock none but a few clerks who do their duty conscientiously remain. A minister may know who are the real workers under him if he will take the trouble to walk through the divisions after four o’clock, — a species of prying, however, that no one of his dignity would condescend to.
The various heads of divisions and bureaus usually encountered each other in the courtyards at this hour and exchanged opinions on the events of the day. On this occasion they departed by twos and threes, most of them agreeing in favor of Rabourdin; while the old stagers, like Monsieur Clergeot, shook their heads and said, “Habent sua sidera lites.” Saillard and Baudoyer were politely avoided, for nobody knew what to say to them about La Billardiere’s death, it being fully understood that Baudoyer wanted the place, though it was certainly not due to him.
When Saillard and his son-in-law had gone a certain distance from the ministry the former broke silence and said: “Things look badly for you, my poor Baudoyer.”
“I can’t understand,” replied the other, “what Elisabeth was dreaming of when she sent Godard in such a hurry to get a passport for Falleix; Godard tells me she hired a post-chaise by the advice of my uncle Mitral, and that Falleix has already started for his own part of the country.”
“Some matter connected with our business,” suggested Saillard.
“Our most pressing business just now is to look after Monsieur La Billardiere’s place,” returned Baudoyer, crossly.
They were just then near the entrance of the Palais-Royal on the rue Saint-Honore. Dutocq came up, bowing, and joined them.
“Monsieur,” he said to Baudoyer, “if I can be useful to you in any way under the circumstances in which you find yourself, pray command me, for I am not less devoted to your interests than Monsieur Godard.”
“Such an assurance is at least consoling,” replied Baudoyer; “it makes me aware that I have the confidence of honest men.”
“If you would kindly employ your influence to get me placed in your division, taking Bixiou as head of the bureau and me as under-head-clerk, you will secure the future of two men who are ready to do anything for your advancement.”
“Are you making fun of us, monsieur?” asked Saillard, staring at him stupidly.
“Far be it from me to do that,” said Dutocq. “I have just come from the printing-office of the ministerial journal (where I carried from the general-secretary an obituary notice of Monsieur de la Billardiere), and I there read an article which will appear to-night about you, which has given me the highest opinion of your character and talents. If it is necessary to crush Rabourdin, I’m in a position to give him the final blow; please to remember that.”
Dutocq disappeared.
“May I be shot if I understand a single word of it,” said Saillard, looking at Baudoyer, whose little eyes were expressive of stupid bewilderment. “I must buy the newspaper to-night.”
When the two reached home and entered the salon on the ground-floor, they found a large fire lighted, and Madame Saillard, Elisabeth, Monsieur Gaudron and the curate of Saint-Paul’s sitting by it. The curate turned at once to Monsieur Baudoyer, to whom Elisabeth made a sign which he failed to understand.
“Monsieur,” said the curate, “I have lost no time in coming in person to thank you for the magnificent gift with which you have adorned my poor church. I dared not run in debt to buy that beautiful monstrance, worthy of a cathedral. You, who are one of our most pious and faithful parishioners, must have keenly felt the bareness of the high altar. I am on my way to see Monseigneur the coadjutor, and he will, I am sure, send you his own thanks later.”
“I have done nothing as yet — ” began Baudoyer.
“Monsieur le cure,” interposed his wife, cutting him short. “I see I am forced to betray the whole secret. Monsieur Baudoyer hopes to complete the gift by sending you a dais for the coming Fete-Dieu. But the purchase must depend on the state of our finances, and our finances depend on my husband’s promotion.”
“God will reward those who honor him,” said Monsieur Gaudron, preparing, with the curate, to take leave.
“But will you not,” said Saillard to the two ecclesiastics, “do us the honor to take pot luck with us?”
“You can stay, my dear vicar,” said the curate to Gaudron; “you know I am engaged to dine with the curate of Saint-Roch, who, by the bye, is to bury Monsieur de la Billardiere to-morrow.”
“Monsieur le cure de Saint-Roch might say a word for us,” began Baudoyer. His wife pulled the skirt of his coat violently.
“Do hold your tongue, Baudoyer,” she said, leading him aside and whispering in his ear. “You have given a monstrance to the church, that cost five thousand francs. I’ll explain it all later.”
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br /> The miserly Baudoyer make a sulky grimace, and continued gloomy and cross for the rest of the day.
“What did you busy yourself about Falleix’s passport for? Why do you meddle in other people’s affairs?” he presently asked her.
“I must say, I think Falleix’s affairs are as much ours as his,” returned Elisabeth, dryly, glancing at her husband to make him notice Monsieur Gaudron, before whom he ought to be silent.
“Certainly, certainly,” said old Saillard, thinking of his co-partnership.
“I hope you reached the newspaper office in time?” remarked Elisabeth to Monsieur Gaudron, as she helped him to soup.
“Yes, my dear lady,” answered the vicar; “when the editor read the little article I gave him, written by the secretary of the Grand Almoner, he made no difficulty. He took pains to insert it in a conspicuous place. I should never have thought of that; but this young journalist has a wide-awake mind. The defenders of religion can enter the lists against impiety without disadvantage at the present moment, for there is a great deal of talent in the royalist press. I have every reason to believe that success will crown your hopes. But you must remember, my dear Baudoyer, to promote Monsieur Colleville; he is an object of great interest to his Eminence; in fact, I am desired to mention him to you.”
“If I am head of the division, I will make him head of one of my bureaus, if you want me to,” said Baudoyer.
The matter thus referred to was explained after dinner, when the ministerial organ (bought and sent up by the porter) proved to contain among its Paris news the following articles, called items: —
“Monsieur le Baron de la Billardiere died this morning, after a
long and painful illness. The king loses a devoted servant, the
Church a most pious son. Monsieur de la Billardiere’s end has
fitly crowned a noble life, consecrated in dark and troublesome
times to perilous missions, and of late years to arduous civic
duties. Monsieur de la Billardiere was provost of a department,
where his force of character triumphed over all the obstacles that
Works of Honore De Balzac Page 780