Part 17

The dinner, however, was now at an end, though a few ladies were still nibbling biscuits as they leant back in their chairs. No one moved; but the Emperor, who had hitherto preserved silence, suddenly raised his voice, and the guests at either end of the table, who had completely forgotten his Majesty's presence, suddenly strained their ears to catch his remarks. He was replying to a dissertation from M. Beulin-d'Orchère against the practice of divorcing married people, which at that time did not prevail in France. And after pausing and glancing at the very low bodice of the young American lady who sat on his right hand, his Majesty said in a drawling voice: 'In America I never knew of any but plain wives being divorced.'

At this a laugh ran through the guests. The remark seemed one of such fine and delicate wit that M. La Rouquette pondered over it in the hope of being able to discover some hidden meaning. The young American lady, however, appeared to think it a compliment, for she bowed to the Emperor in pleased confusion. Their Majesties now rose from their seats. There was a loud rustling and tramping round the table; and the ushers and footmen, standing gravely in line against the wall, alone preserved an attitude of decorum amidst the scramble of all these people who had dined so well. However, the procession was formed anew; their Majesties at the head, followed by the guests in double file, with the various couples parted by the ladies' spreading trains. They passed through the Guard Room with somewhat panting dignity, while behind them, in the full light of the crystal chandeliers, over the litter of the disordered table, there resounded the big drum of the military band, which was finishing the last figure of a quadrille.

Coffee was served that evening in the Gallery of the Maps. One of the prefects of the palace presented the Emperor's cup on a silver-gilt salver. Several of the guests, however, had already gone off to the smoking-room, while the Empress had retired with a few ladies to her private drawing-room on the left of the gallery. It was whispered that she had expressed much displeasure at the peculiar manner in which Clorinde had behaved during dinner. During the yearly visits to Compiègne she tried to introduce something like homely decorum into the habits of the Court, with a taste for innocent amusements and rural pleasure; and she displayed a strong personal antipathy to certain eccentricities.

M. de Plouguern had taken Clorinde aside to preach her a little sermon, in the hope of worming a confession out of her. But the young woman affected great surprise. How had she compromised herself with Count de Marsy? They had only joked together, nothing more.

'Well, look there, then,' said the old senator. And forthwith he pushed back a door which already stood ajar, and showed her Madame de Llorentz storming away at M. de Marsy in a little adjacent _salon_, which he had previously seen them enter. Wild with rage, the beautiful blonde was assailing Marsy in the most unmeasured language, quite regardless of the fact that the loud voice in which she was speaking might bring about a terrible scandal. The Count, although a little pale, was smiling and trying to appease her, talking to her rapidly in low soft tones. Sounds of the quarrel had, however, reached the gallery, and the guests who heard them prudently retired from the neighbourhood of the little room.

'Do you want her to publish those famous letters all over the château?' asked M. de Plouguern, who had begun to pace up and down again, after giving his arm to Clorinde.

'It would be fine fun!' she exclaimed with a loud laugh.

Then the old senator, squeezing her arm like some young gallant, began to scold her again. She must leave all eccentric behaviour to Madame de Combelot, he told her. And he went on to say that her Majesty appeared very much annoyed with her. At this Clorinde, who cherished a sincere devotion for the Empress, seemed quite astonished. What had she done that could have displeased her?

Then, as they reached the entrance of her Majesty's private drawing-room, they stopped for a moment and peeped through the doorway, which had been left open. A circle of ladies had gathered round a large table, and the Empress was patiently teaching them ring puzzles, while a few gentlemen stood behind the chairs and gravely followed the lesson.

In the meantime Rougon had been disputing with Delestang at the end of the gallery. He had not ventured to speak to him about his wife, but was reproaching him for the indifference with which he had allowed himself to be stowed away in a room which overlooked the courtyard of the château, and he tried to induce him to claim one with a view over the park. However, Clorinde came towards them leaning on M. de Plouguern's arm.

'Oh, don't bother me any more about your Marsy!' she said loudly enough to be heard. 'I won't speak to him again this evening. There! will that satisfy you?'

This remark quieted everybody. Just at that moment M. de Marsy came out of the little room looking quite gay. He stopped to joke for a moment with Chevalier Rusconi, and then entered the private drawing-room, where soon afterwards the Empress and the ladies could be heard laughing at some story he was telling them. Ten minutes later, Madame de Llorentz also reappeared. She looked weary and her hands were trembling. Observing, however, the curious glances which took note of her slightest gestures, she boldly remained in the gallery conversing with the various guests.

There was a growing feeling of weariness among the company, who began to yawn slightly behind their handkerchiefs. The evening was the most trying time. The newly-invited guests, not knowing how to amuse themselves, went up to the windows and gazed into the darkness. M. Beulin-d'Orchère continued his dissertation against divorce laws in a corner of the room; while the novelist, who felt greatly bored, asked one of the academicians in a whisper if it was permissible to go to bed. Every now and then, however, the Emperor made his appearance and lounged through the gallery with a cigarette between his lips.

'It was impossible to arrange anything for this evening,' M. de Combelot explained to the little group in which Rougon and his friends were gathered. 'To-morrow, after the stag-hunt, the offal will be given to the hounds by torchlight. Then on the day after to-morrow the artistes of the Comédie Française are coming to play _Les Plaideurs_. There is a talk, too, of some _tableaux vivants_ and a charade, which will be performed towards the end of the week.'

Then he gave them details. His wife was going to take a part, and the rehearsals would soon begin. He also spoke at length about an excursion which the Court had made two days previously to a druidical monolith, in the neighbourhood of which some excavations were being carried on. The Empress had insisted upon getting down into the pit which had been dug.

'And do you know,' continued the chamberlain, in tones of emotion, 'the workmen were lucky enough to turn up two skulls in her Majesty's presence. No one was expecting such a thing, and it caused great satisfaction.'

So saying, he stroked that black beard of his which had been the source of so much of his success among the ladies. There was a somewhat sawny look about his handsome face, of which he was evidently vain, and he lisped as he spoke.

'But I was told,' said Clorinde, 'that the actors of the Vaudeville were coming down to perform their new piece. The women wear the most wonderful dresses, and it's excruciatingly funny, I hear.'

M. de Combelot assumed a prudish expression. 'Yes,' he said, 'it was talked of for a moment.'

'Well?'

'The idea has been abandoned. The Empress doesn't like that kind of piece.'

At this moment there was a general stir in the gallery. All the men had come down from the smoking-room again, and the Emperor was going to play his game at table quoits. Madame de Combelot, who prided herself upon being a very skilful player, had just asked him to give her her revenge, for she recollected having been beaten by him during the previous season. As she spoke to him she assumed an air of such humble tenderness and such a meaning smile, that his Majesty, ill at ease and rather alarmed, was obliged to turn his eyes away from her.

The game began. A large number of guests gathered round and admiringly criticised the play. Standing at the end of the long table, which was covered with a green cloth, the young woman threw her first quoit, which alighted near the white point representing the pin. Then the Emperor, showing even greater skill, dislodged it with his own quoit, which slipped into its place. The spectators softly applauded. However, it was Madame de Combelot who won in the end.

'What have we been playing for, sire?' she boldly inquired.

The Emperor smiled, but made no reply. Then he turned round and said: 'Monsieur Rougon, will you have a game with me?'

Rougon bowed and took up the quoits, while apologising for his unskilfulness at the game.

A thrill of excitement ran through the spectators, who stood on either side of the table. Was Rougon really coming into favour again? The latent hostility which had encompassed him ever since his arrival now melted, and the guests bent forward and watched his quoits with an air of sympathy. M. La Rouquette, feeling still more perplexed than he had been before dinner, drew his sister aside to ask her what was the true state of affairs, but she was apparently unable to give him any satisfactory information, for he returned to the table making a gesture of perplexity.

'Ah, very good!' murmured Clorinde, as Rougon made a skilful cast.

She darted meaning glances at those friends of the great man who were present. The opportunity seemed a favourable one for helping him back into the Emperor's good graces. She commenced the onset herself, and for a moment or two there was a burst of laudatory remarks.

'The deuce!' exclaimed Delestang, who could think of nothing else to say, though he was anxious to obey the mute command of his wife's eyes.

'And you pretended that you were a very poor player,' said Chevalier Rusconi delightedly. 'Ah, sire, pray don't play for France with him.'

'But Monsieur Rougon would treat France very well, I'm sure,' interposed M. Beulin-d'Orchère, with a meaning expression on his dog-like face.

It was a direct hint. The Emperor deigned to smile; and he even laughed good-naturedly when Rougon, quite embarrassed by the compliments, modestly explained: 'Well, I used to play at pitch and toss when I was a boy.'

On hearing his Majesty laugh, all the company did likewise; and for a moment the gallery rang with merriment. Clorinde, with her sharp wits, had realised that by admiring Rougon, who was in fact a very poor player, one really flattered the Emperor, who was incontestably his superior. M. de Plouguern, however, had not yet come forward, feeling a touch of jealousy at Rougon's success. So Clorinde went up to him and nudged his elbow as if by accident. He understood, her meaning, and warmly praised his colleague's next throw. Then M. La Rouquette made up his mind to risk everything, and exclaimed: 'Yes, that was beautiful, a delightfully soft throw!'

As the Emperor won the game, Rougon asked for his revenge, and the quoits were again gliding over the green cloth with a faint rustling sound like that of dry leaves, when a lady-attendant appeared at the door of the drawing-room, holding the Prince Imperial in her arms. The child who was then some twenty months old, was dressed in a plain white robe. His hair was in disorder and his eyes were heavy with sleep. When he awoke of an evening in this way he was generally brought to the Empress for a moment so that she might kiss him. He looked at the light with the serious expression characteristic of little children.

However, an old man, a great dignitary of the Empire, came forward, dragging his gouty legs. And bending down, with a senile tremor of his head, he took hold of the baby-prince's soft little hand and kissed it, saying in quavering accents as he did so: 'Monseigneur, monseigneur----'

But the child, alarmed by the other's parchment-like visage, hastily recoiled, clinging to the lady who carried him, and venting cries of fear. Still the old man did not let go his hold; he continued to protest his devotion, and it was necessary to release the little hand, which he held tightly to his lips, from his adoring grasp.

'Go away, take him off!' cried the Emperor impatiently, to the lady-attendant.

His Majesty had just lost the second game, and the deciding one began. Rougon, taking the praises which he received in serious earnest, exerted all his skill. Clorinde was now of opinion that he played too well, and, just as he was going to pick up his quoits, she whispered in his ear: 'I hope you do not mean to win.'

Rougon smiled. But all at once a loud bark was heard. It came from Nero, the Emperor's favourite pointer, which, taking advantage of an open door, had just bounded into the gallery. His Majesty ordered the dog to be taken away, and a servant had already caught hold of its collar when the aged dignitary again sprang forward and exclaimed: 'My beautiful Nero! my beautiful Nero!'

He almost knelt upon the carpet in order to take the dog in his tremulous arms. He pressed its head to his breast and kissed it as he said: 'I beg of you, sire, do not send him away. How handsome he is!'

The Emperor consented that the dog should remain, and the old man went on with his caresses. Unlike the little prince, Nero showed no sign of fear, but licked the withered hands that fondled him.

Rougon, meantime, was blundering in his play. He had just thrown a quoit so clumsily that the leaden disc, faced with cloth, flew into the corsage of a lady who, with a deal of blushing, drew it from amidst her lace. The Emperor won the game, and the company delicately gave him to understand that he had gained a real victory. His Majesty seemed quite affected by it, and went off with Rougon, chatting to him as though he wanted to console him for his defeat. They strolled to the end of the gallery, leaving the body of the room free for a little dance which was just then being arranged.

The Empress, who had left the private drawing-room, was trying to relieve the increasing boredom of her guests. She had proposed a game of 'Consequences,' but it was getting late, and the company seemed to prefer a dance. All the ladies were now assembled in the Gallery of the Maps, and a messenger was sent to the smoking-room to summon such gentlemen as were still hiding there. As the dancers took up their positions for a quadrille, M. de Combelot obligingly seated himself at the piano-organ, the handle of which he gravely began to turn.[10]

'Monsieur Rougon,' said the Emperor, 'I have heard some talk of a work you are engaged upon; a comparison of the English constitution with our own. I might be able to supply you with some useful documents.'

'Your Majesty is very kind. But I am contemplating another design; a very great one indeed.'

Rougon, finding his sovereign so kindly disposed, was desirous of profiting by it, and he thereupon unfolded his plan, his dream of reclaiming and cultivating the Landes, of clearing several square leagues of soil, founding a town, and conquering, as it were, a new country. As he spoke, the Emperor looked at him, and in his eyes, usually so expressionless, there now shone a glistening light. For a time, however, he said nothing, merely nodding every now and then. But when Rougon at last finished, he rejoined: 'Yes, perhaps--it is to be thought over.' Then, turning towards Clorinde, her husband, and M. de Plouguern, who stood in a group near at hand, he said: 'Monsieur Delestang, come and give us your opinion. I have retained the most pleasant recollection of my visit to your model farm of La Chamade.'

Delestang stepped forward; however, the little group which was clustering round the Emperor now had to retreat into one of the window-recesses. A waltz was being danced, and as Madame de Combelot passed by, reclining in M. La Rouquette's arms, she had just swept her long train round his Majesty's silk stockings. At the piano M. de Combelot seemed to be quite enjoying the music he was calling forth, for he turned the handle more rapidly than ever, swaying his handsome head, and every now and then glancing towards the body of the instrument, as though surprised at the deep notes which came from it at certain turns he gave.

'I have bred some magnificent calves this year, by a fresh crossing of strains,' said Delestang. 'Unfortunately, when your Majesty visited me, the stalls and folds were under repair.'

Thereupon the Emperor began to speak slowly and spasmodically of agriculture, cattle-breeding, and manures. He had entertained great esteem for Delestang ever since his visit to La Chamade; and was particularly pleased with the system which the latter had introduced whereby his farm-hands lived in common, shared certain profits, and became entitled to old-age pensions. Napoleon and Clorinde's husband had ideas in common, certain humanitarian principles which enabled them to grasp each other's thoughts at a word.

'Has Monsieur Rougon spoken to you about his plan?' the Emperor asked.

'Oh, yes!' answered Delestang. 'It is a magnificent scheme, and affords a chance of experimenting on a very grand scale.'

He evinced genuine enthusiasm. He was greatly interested in pig-breeding, he said. The best breeds were dying out in France. Then he remarked that he was perfecting a new plan for the improvement of meadow-lands; but to make it fully successful, large tracts of country would be necessary. However, if Rougon should succeed, he would join him and put his system to trial. Then, all at once he stopped short, for he had just noticed that his wife's eyes were earnestly fixed upon him. Ever since he had begun to express his approval of Rougon's scheme, she had been biting her lips, looking pale and wrathful. 'Come, my dear,' she said to him, motioning towards the piano-organ.

M. de Combelot's fingers had now grown cramped, and he was opening and shutting his hands to remove the stiffness. Nevertheless, with the smile of a martyr he got ready to begin a polka when Delestang hastened forward and offered to take his place; an offer which he accepted politely, as though giving up a post of honour. Then Delestang turned the handle, and the polka began. But somehow the music now sounded differently; he lacked the chamberlain's flexible, supple wrist.

Rougon, however, was anxious to get some definite expression of opinion from the Emperor. His Majesty, who really seemed impressed, asked him if he contemplated establishing some large industrial colonies over yonder, and added that he should be glad to grant a strip of land, water supply, and tools to each family. Moreover, he promised to show Rougon some plans of his own, which he had noted down on paper, for the establishment of a place of the kind, where the houses would be of uniform construction, and every want would be provided for.

'Certainly, I quite enter into your Majesty's ideas,' said Rougon, though, truth to tell, Napoleon's vague socialism made him impatient. 'We can do nothing without your Majesty's assistance and authority. It will doubtless be necessary to expropriate certain villages, and it will have to be stated that this is done for the public good. I shall also have to launch a company to provide the requisite funds. A word from your Majesty will be necessary----'

The Emperor's eyes grew dim; but he went on nodding. Finally, in an indistinct voice, he said: 'We will see--we will talk about it.'

Then he walked away, passing with heavy steps through the quadrille party. Rougon put on a cheerful countenance, as though he felt sure of obtaining a favourable answer. Clorinde, however, was radiant. By degrees a report spread among the grave, staid men who did not dance that Rougon was going to leave Paris, and place himself at the head of a great undertaking in the south of France. Then they all came to congratulate him, and he was smiled upon from one end of the gallery to the other. Not a trace remained of the hostility which had been shown him when he first arrived. Now that he was voluntarily going into exile, they all felt that they could shake hands with him without risk of compromising themselves. This was genuine relief for many of the guests. M. La Rouquette, quitting the dancing party, discussed the matter with Chevalier Rusconi, with the delight of a man completely set at his ease. 'It's the right thing he's doing! He will make a great success down there!' said the young deputy. 'Rougon is an extremely able man, but in politics he is deficient in tact.'

Then he waxed quite emotional over the Emperor's kindness. His Majesty, he said, showed as much regard for his old servants as if they were old mistresses. He felt affection for them even after the most violent ruptures. It was some secret softening of the heart, no doubt, that had prompted him to invite Rougon to Compiègne. And La Rouquette cited other incidents which did honour to his Majesty's kindness of nature. He had given four hundred thousand francs to pay the debts of a general who had been ruined by a ballet girl; he had bestowed eight hundred thousand upon one of his old accomplices at Strasburg and Boulogne as a wedding present, and had laid out nearly a million for the benefit of the widow of a high functionary.

'His purse is at every one's disposal,' he said in conclusion. 'He only allowed himself to be chosen Emperor in order that he might be able to benefit his friends. It makes me shrug my shoulders when I hear Republicans reproaching him for his big civil list.[11] He would exhaust ten civil lists in doing good. All the money he gets comes back to France again.'

While chatting in an undertone after this fashion, La Rouquette and Chevalier Rusconi continued to watch the Emperor. He was just completing his round of the gallery. He adroitly threaded his way through the dancers, silently crossing the clear spaces which their respect opened out for him. Whenever he passed behind a lady who was sitting down, he slightly inclined his neck and cast an oblique glance at her bare shoulders.

'And he has such a mind, too!' said Chevalier Rusconi in a whisper. 'He is an extraordinary man!'

The Emperor was now quite close to them. For a moment he lingered where he stood, hesitating and gloomy. Then he seemed inclined to approach Clorinde, who was looking very merry and beautiful, but she suddenly fixed her eyes on him so boldly that he seemed frightened, for he went on again, holding his left arm behind his back, and twisting the ends of his waxed moustache with his right hand. At last, seeing M. Beulin-d'Orchère in front of him, he approached him sideways and said: 'You are not dancing.'

The judge confessed that he could not dance, that he had never danced in his life. Then the Emperor replied encouragingly: 'Oh, that doesn't matter! That needn't keep you from dancing now.'

Those were his last words for the evening. He quietly made his way to the door, and disappeared.

'Yes, indeed, he is an extraordinary man,' said M. La Rouquette, repeating Chevalier Rusconi's phrase. 'They think a great deal of him abroad, don't they?'

The Chevalier, with diplomatic reserve, nodded vaguely. He admitted, however, that the eyes of Europe were fixed upon the Emperor. A word spoken at the Tuileries made neighbouring thrones tremble.

'He is a prince who knows how to hold his tongue,' he added with a smile, the subtle irony of which escaped the young deputy.