Part 26

The President of the Tribunal of Commerce turned quite scarlet. He almost choked with joy. His friends pressed round him to congratulate him, while Rougon made a mental note of this cross--which he had so opportunely thought of bestowing--so that he might not forget to mention the matter to his colleague. It was the betrayed husband that he was decorating. Du Poizat smiled with admiration.

There were now some fifty people in the drawing-room. They still waited on; but the faces of many of them were beginning to show signs of weariness.

'Time is flying; we might perhaps make a start,' said the minister.

But the prefect bent towards him, and explained that the deputy, M. Kahn's former opponent, had not yet arrived. Presently, however, this gentleman made his appearance, perspiring profusely. His watch had stopped, he said, and he had been quite put out of his reckoning. Then, wishing to let the company know of his visit on the previous evening, he went on to remark, in a loud voice: 'As I was saying to your excellency last night----' And afterwards he walked off alongside of Rougon and informed him that he intended to return to Paris on the following morning. The Easter recess had terminated on the previous Tuesday, and the Chamber was again sitting. He had considered it his duty, however, to remain for a few days longer at Niort in order to welcome his excellency to the department.

All the guests trooped into the courtyard of the prefecture, where ten carriages, drawn up on either side of the steps, were awaiting them. The minister, the deputy, the prefect and the mayor got into the first barouche. The others installed themselves as hierarchically as they could. There were two more barouches as well as three victorias, and some waggonettes with seats for six or eight persons. The procession formed up in the Rue de la Préfecture, and started off at a gentle trot. The ladies' ribbons streamed in the air, and here and there their skirts protruded out of the carriages, while the gentlemen's black hats shone brightly in the sun. The procession had to pass through a considerable section of the town; and, owing to the rough pavement of the narrow streets, the vehicles jolted dreadfully as they passed on with a crash like that of iron. And at every door and every window were townsfolk who bowed in silence while looking for his excellency, and experiencing much surprise when they saw his plain frock-coat beside the prefect's gold-laced uniform.

On leaving the town, the procession passed along a wide promenade planted with magnificent trees. It was a warm, pleasant, April day, with a clear sky full of sunlight. The road, which was straight and level, lay between gardens gay with blossoming lilacs and apricot trees. Presently, however, cultivated fields spread out, dotted here and there with copses.

'That's a spinning mill, isn't it?' asked Rougon, towards whom the prefect had just bent. 'A mill which belongs to you, I believe,' he continued, addressing the mayor, and calling his attention to a red brick building on the river bank. 'I have heard of your new system of wool carding. I will try to find time to go and inspect all those wonders.'

Then he began to ask some questions respecting the motive power of the river. In his opinion, said he, hydraulic power, under favourable conditions, possessed enormous advantages. He quite astonished the mayor by the amount of technical knowledge he displayed. Meantime the other carriages followed on in somewhat irregular fashion. Snatches of conversation, bristling with figures, could be heard amidst the jog-trot of the horses. Then a rippling laugh attracted everyone's attention. It came from the head-master's wife, whose sun-shade had just flown away and fallen on to a heap of stones.

'You have a farm about here, haven't you?' said Rougon, turning to the deputy with a smile. 'That's it on the hill, if I'm not mistaken. What splendid meadows! I know that you interest yourself in cattle-breeding, and won several prizes at the last shows.'

Then they began to talk about cattle. Steeped in the sunshine, the meadows looked like soft green velvet. Wild flowers were springing up all over them. Athwart the curtains of tall poplar trees one had glimpses of charming bits of landscape. However, an old woman leading an ass came along and was obliged to stop at the roadside to let the procession pass. The ass, frightened by the sight of so many carriages with panels gleaming in the sunshine, began to bray; but the gaily dressed ladies and begloved gentlemen remained perfectly serious.

The procession now climbed a slight hill on the left, and then descended again. They had reached the scene of the ceremony. It was a sort of _cul-de-sac_, a hollow gap walled in by hills on three sides. Nothing broke upon the prospect save the gaping ruins of a couple of windmills. And in this hollow, in the centre of a patch of grass land, a tent of grey canvas, with a wide crimson border, had been set up; its four sides were decorated with trophies of flags. A thousand sight-seers, middle-class folks and peasants whose curiosity had induced them to walk over, had taken up position in the shade on the right-hand side, where one of the hills rose up like an amphitheatre. A detachment of the seventy-eighth regiment was ranged in front of the tent, opposite the Niort firemen, whose fine bearing was much noticed; while a gang of navvies in new blouses, with engineers in frock-coats at their head, stood waiting at the edge of the patch of grass. As soon as the carriages appeared, the Niort Philharmonic Society, composed of amateur instrumentalists, began to play the overture to 'La Dame Blanche.'

'Long live his excellency! cried a few persons whose voices were drowned by the sound of the instruments.

Rougon alighted from his carriage, raised his eyes, and looked about the hollow in which he found himself, vexed to find the spot so small, so shut in, for this seemed to detract from the impressiveness of the ceremony. He stood for a moment on the grass, waiting for some one to receive him. At last M. Kahn hastened up. He had left the prefecture immediately after _déjeuner_, and had just been to examine the mine which his excellency was to fire, to see if all were right. It was he who conducted the minister into the tent; and then the guests followed. There was some little confusion for a moment; and Rougon began to ask for particulars. 'It is yonder, then, in that cutting, that the tunnel is to commence?'

'Exactly,' replied M. Kahn. 'The first mine has been laid in that reddish rock where your excellency sees a flag flying.'

The hill-side at the end of the hollow had been broken up by picks till its rocky base was disclosed to view. Several uprooted trees were lying about amongst the excavations, and the cutting was strewn with foliage. M. Kahn pointed out the course the line would take. It was marked by a double row of stakes stretching away amid grass and paths and thickets. It was a pretty piece of quiet country that they were going to rip up.

However, the guests and officials had by this time collected in the tent. Some curious sight-seers in the rear were bending forward to glance through the openings, and the instrumentalists of the Philharmonic Society was just finishing the overture to 'La Dame Blanche.'

'Monsieur le ministre,' suddenly exclaimed a shrill voice which vibrated amidst the silence, 'it is my privilege to be the first to thank your excellency for having so kindly accepted the invitation which we ventured to address to you. The department of Deux-Sèvres will ever preserve a grateful recollection----'

It was Du Poizat who had begun to speak. He stood some three yards away from Rougon; and at the finish of certain sentences they slightly bowed to one another. The prefect went on speaking for a good quarter of an hour. He reminded the minister of the brilliant fashion in which he had represented the department in the Legislative Assembly. The town of Niort had then inscribed his name in its annals as that of a benefactor, and longed for any occasion upon which it might show its gratitude. Every now and then the prefect's voice was quite lost in the air, and only his gestures, an even, regular working of his right arm, could be seen; and then the crowd ranged on the hill-side gave their attention to the gold embroidery on his sleeve, which flashed brightly in the sunshine.

Afterwards, however, M. Kahn stepped into the middle of the tent. He had a very deep voice, and seemed to bark out some of his words. The hill-side gave an echo which repeated snatches of sentences upon which he lingered too complacently. He spoke of all the long efforts, studies and toilsome steps which had devolved upon him during nearly four years in his struggle to obtain a new line for the district. Now, every kind of prosperity would rain down upon the department. The fields would be fertilised; the factories would double their output; and commerce would make its way into the humblest villages. To hear him talk, it might have been supposed that Deux-Sèvres was about to become a sort of fairy-land, with rivers of milk and enchanted groves, where tables laden with good things would await every passer-by. All at once, however, he affected an exaggerated modesty. They owed him, said he, no gratitude whatever. He himself could never have carried out such a vast scheme without the high patronage of which he was so proud. Then, turning towards Rougon, he called him 'the illustrious minister, the promoter and supporter of every useful and noble idea.' In conclusion, he dwelt upon the financial advantages of the scheme. At the Bourse, he said, people were fighting for the shares. Happy were those who had been able to invest their money in an enterprise with which his Excellency, the Minister of the Interior had been willing to connect his name!

'Hear! hear!' cried some of the guests.

The mayor and several of the officials grasped M. Kahn's hand. He affected to be greatly moved. Outside there were bursts of cheering, and the bandsmen of the Philharmonic Society considered it proper to strike up a quick march. Thereupon the mayor's assessor sprang forward and sent a fireman to silence them. In the meantime, the chief surveyor of bridges and highways was hesitating and repeating that he had prepared no speech for the occasion. However, as the prefect continued to press him, he gave way. At this M. Kahn seemed very uneasy, and murmured to Du Poizat: 'You've made a mistake. He's sure to say something nasty.'

The chief surveyor was a tall, lean man, who considered himself endowed with great powers of irony. He spoke slowly, and gave a twist to his mouth every time he delivered himself of one of his epigrammatic thrusts. He commenced his speech by overwhelming M. Kahn with praises. Then the unpleasant remarks began; and he briefly criticised the projected railway with all the contempt of a government engineer for the plans and designs of a private one. He referred to the opposition scheme of the Western Company, which had contemplated carrying the line past Thouars, and he laid stress, without seeming to do so maliciously, upon the fact that the loop in M. Kahn's plan would benefit the blast-furnaces at Bressuire. There was nothing obviously bitter in what he said, but amidst his pleasant sentences there was many a little stab which could be felt only by the initiated. He became, however, more cruel towards the end of his speech, when he seemed to regret that 'the illustrious minister' should have run the risk of compromising himself by countenancing an undertaking whose financial prospects were a source of disquietude to all men of experience. Enormous sums of money would be wanted, he said, as well as the greatest integrity and most perfect disinterestedness. Then, in conclusion, he gave his mouth a twist and spoke in this fashion: 'That these fears, however, are quite chimerical we can have no doubt, when we see at the head of the undertaking a man whose wealth and high commercial probity are so well known throughout the department.'

A murmur of approval ran through the audience; though a few people glanced at M. Kahn, who with pale lips was endeavouring to smile. Rougon had listened with his eyes half closed, as though he were inconvenienced by the brightness of the light. When he opened them again they were black and stern. His original intention had been to make a very brief speech indeed; but he now felt that he had to defend one of his own band. With three steps he reached the edge of the tent, and there, with a sweeping gesture that seemed to call upon all France to listen to him, he began: 'Gentlemen, let me in imagination overleap these hills which surround us and embrace the whole empire at one glance, and thus exalt the ceremony which has brought us together by making it a festival of industrial and commercial labour. At this very moment, while I am now addressing you, from the north to the south of the country canals are being excavated, railway lines are being laid down, mountains are being tunnelled, bridges are being built----'

Perfect silence had fallen all around. Not a sound broke upon the speaker's words save the rustling of the trees or the grating of some river-lock in the distance. The firemen striving to bear themselves as martially as the soldiers beneath the hot sun, cast side-long glances at the minister, without turning their necks. The spectators on the hill-side, however, were taking their ease. Ladies had spread their handkerchiefs on the ground and were sitting on them; and two gentlemen, whom the sun was reaching, had just opened their wives' parasols. And Rougon's voice gradually grew louder and louder. He seemed ill at ease in that little hollow. It was as if the narrow valley did not afford him sufficient space for his gesticulations. As he threw his hands energetically in front of him, it seemed as if he desired to sweep away all obstructions and open out a wider horizon. Twice he gazed into the air as if seeking space, but nothing met his eyes on the hill tops save the gutted ruins of the windmills which were splitting in the sun.

He had taken up M. Kahn's text and was enlarging upon it. It was not, he said, the department of Deux-Sèvres alone that was about to enter upon an era of wonderful prosperity, but the whole of France, thanks to the branch line from Niort to Angers. For ten minutes he recounted the innumerable advantages which would rain down upon the people. He even went so far as to allude to the hand of God. Then he began to reply to what had been said by the chief surveyor, though he in no way discussed it or even referred to it. He simply said the direct opposite of what the surveyor had said, dwelling for a long time upon M. Kahn's devotion, and praising his great modesty and disinterestedness and nobility of mind. The financial aspect of the matter, he said, caused him no uneasiness whatever; and he smiled and seemed to be sweeping up big piles of gold with a rapid movement of his hands.

An outburst of cheering quite drowned his voice.

'One word in conclusion, gentlemen,' he said, after wiping his lips with his handkerchief. That one word lasted for a quarter of an hour. He was growing excited, and went further than he had meant to do. Indeed, in his peroration, while speaking of the grandeur of the reign, and extolling the Emperor's great ability, he even hinted that his Majesty would bestow his patronage in a special manner upon the branch line from Niort to Angers. It was as if the undertaking had become a State affair.

However, three great bursts of cheers rang out. A flight of crows, skimming aloft across the cloudless sky, took fright with much noisy croaking. Immediately the minister's speech had finished, the Philharmonic Society had begun to play again, a signal being given from the tent; while all the ladies sprang up, anxious to miss nothing of the ceremony. The guests were smiling around Rougon with delighted faces. The mayor, the public prosecutor, and the colonel of the seventy-eighth infantry were wagging their heads approvingly while listening to the deputy, who expressed his admiration of his excellency in tones which, although subdued, were yet loud enough to reach the minister's ears. However, it was the chief surveyor of bridges and highways who manifested the greatest enthusiasm. He displayed an extraordinary amount of obsequiousness, and seemed quite thunderstruck by the great man's magnificent language.

'Would your excellency do me the honour to follow me?' now asked M. Kahn, whose fat face was perspiring with pleasure.

The concluding part of the ceremony was at hand. His excellency was about to fire the first mine. Orders had just been given to the gang of navvies in new blouses. The men preceded the minister and M. Kahn into the cutting and drew themselves up in two lines at the far end. Then a foreman who held a piece of lighted rope presented it to Rougon. The officials, who had remained in the tent, craned their heads forward. Everyone waited anxiously. The Philharmonic Society was still playing.

'Will it make very much noise?' the head-master's wife inquired, with an uneasy smile, of one of the public prosecutor's assessors.

'That depends upon the nature of the rock,' hastily interposed the President of the Tribunal of Commerce, who at once entered upon various mineralogical explanations.

'I shall stuff up my ears,' murmured the eldest of the three daughters of the conservator of rivers and forests.

Rougon felt that he was looking very foolish, standing in the midst of all these people with the burning rope in his hand. Up above, on the hill crests, the ruined windmills were creaking louder than ever in the warm sunlight. Then he hastened to light the fuse, the end of which, lying between two stones, was pointed out to him by the foreman. One of the navvies immediately blew a long blast on a horn, and all the gang hurried off, while M. Kahn hastily pulled his excellency back into the tent, manifesting much anxious solicitude for his safety.

'Well, why doesn't it go off?' stammered the registrar, who was blinking nervously, and would very much have liked to close his ears, as the ladies were doing.

The explosion did not take place for a couple of minutes. It had been considered prudent to have a very long fuse. The expectation of the company turned almost to anguish; every eye was fixed upon the red rock; some spectators fancied they could see it moving, and timid ones expressed a fear of being struck by the fragments. At last there was a low reverberation, and the rock split, while a number of fragments, twice the size of a man's fist, shot up into the air amidst the smoke. Then everybody went away; and on all sides one could hear the same question repeated, 'Don't you smell the powder?'

In the evening the prefect gave a dinner, which the officials and functionaries attended. For the ball which followed he had issued five hundred invitations. It was a splendid affair. The great drawing-room was decorated with evergreens; and in each corner a small chandelier had been fixed, making with the central one five chandeliers in all, whose tapers flooded the room with brilliant light. Niort could remember no such scene of magnificence. The light that streamed from the six windows quite illuminated the Place de la Préfecture, where more than two thousand inquisitive sight-seers had gathered together, straining their eyes in their eagerness to catch a glimpse of the dancers. The orchestra also could be so distinctly heard that children got up galops on the footways. From nine o'clock the ladies were fanning themselves, refreshments were being carried round, and quadrilles were following upon waltzes and polkas. In ceremonious fashion Du Poizat stood by the door, smilingly receiving the late arrivals.

'Doesn't your excellency dance?' the head-master's wife boldly asked of Rougon. She had just arrived, and was wearing a dress of tarlatan, spangled with gold stars.

Rougon excused himself, with a smile. He was standing in front of one of the windows, surrounded by a group of guests, and, while joining in a conversation on the desirability of a new land survey, he kept on glancing outside. In the bright light which the candles cast upon the houses on the opposite side of the square, he had just caught sight of Madame Correur and Mademoiselle Herminie Billecoq at one of the windows of the Hôtel de Paris. They were standing there, leaning and watching the ball, as though they were in a box at a theatre. Their faces glistened, and every now and then their bare throats rippled with laughter as some amusing incident attracted their notice.

However, the head-master's wife had gone all round the drawing-room, looking somewhat disconsolate, and never heeding the admiration which her sweeping train excited among the younger men. She was evidently looking for some one, as she thus stepped smilingly and languidly along.

'Hasn't Monsieur le Commissaire central arrived?' she at last asked Du Poizat, who was inquiring after her husband's health. 'I promised him a waltz.'

'Oh, he's sure to come,' the prefect answered. 'I am surprised that he is not here already. He had to go away on official business to-day; but he told me that he would be back by six o'clock.'

After the _déjeuner_ at the prefecture, about noon, Gilquin had set out from Niort on horseback to go and arrest notary Martineau. Coulonges was some twelve miles away. He calculated upon arriving there at two o'clock, and upon being able to get away by four, or perhaps a little later, which would leave him plenty of time to attend the banquet, to which he had been invited. Consequently, he did not hurry his horse, but jogged along, while reflecting that he would make the running at the ball in the evening with that pretty blonde, the head-master's wife, whose only fault in his eyes was that she was rather too slim. When he reached Coulonges, he dismounted at the Golden Lion, where a corporal and two gendarmes ought to have been waiting for him. By arranging matters in this way, he had anticipated that his arrival would not be noticed; and he could hire a carriage, he thought, and carry the notary off without any of the neighbours being any the wiser. The gendarmes, however, were not there. Gilquin waited for them till five o'clock, swearing, and drinking grog, and looking at his watch every quarter of an hour. He should never be able to get back to Niort in time for the banquet, he muttered. He was just having his horse saddled, when the corporal at last made his appearance, followed by his two men. There had been some misunderstanding.

'Well, well, don't waste time in apologising!' cried the commissary angrily. 'We've got no time for that! It's already a quarter-past five. Let us get hold of our man as quickly as possible. We must be on our way back in another ten minutes.'

Generally speaking, Gilquin was a good-natured individual. He prided himself upon the urbanity with which he discharged his official duties. That day he had even arranged an elaborate scheme, by which he hoped to spare Madame Correur's brother any violent emotion. It had been his intention to enter the house alone, while the gendarmes waited with the carriage near the garden-gate, in a little lane which looked on to the open country. But his three hours' waiting at the Golden Lion had so exasperated him that he forgot all these fine precautions. He walked through the village, and rang loudly at the street-door of the notary's house. One of the gendarmes was posted at this door, and the other was directed to go round and keep a watch on the garden-wall. The corporal went in with the commissary. Ten or a dozen scared villagers watched them from a distance.