Part 32

'You quite surprise me!' said the colonel. 'It is ridiculous to carry modesty to that extent. You don't stand in need of anyone's help, my dear friend. You have succeeded through your own merits.'

Then they all began to sound Delestang's praises. His model farm at La Chamade was something unparalleled, they asserted; it had long ago proved that he possessed all the qualifications of an able administrator and statesman. He had a quick eye, a clear mind, and a hand that was energetic without being rough. And besides, had not the Emperor himself manifested the greatest appreciation of him all along? His Majesty and himself were in accord upon almost every point.

'Pooh!' M. Kahn ended by saying; 'it is you who keep Rougon up. If you weren't his friend and didn't support him in the council, he would have come to grief a fortnight ago!'

Delestang, however, went on with his protestations. He himself might indeed be of some service, but it was only right to give everyone his due. That very evening, at the Ministry of Justice, in discussing a very complicated financial question, Rougon had given proof of extraordinary lucidity of mind.

'Oh yes, I daresay,' said M. La Rouquette scornfully; 'the cunning of a smart attorney.'

Clorinde had not yet opened her lips. The visitors kept glancing at her as though they expected her to say something. But for some time she rolled her head on her pillow, as though she were trying to rub the nape of her neck.

'That's right; scold him,' she said at last, speaking of her husband, though not mentioning him by name. 'He will have to be beaten into taking his real place.'

'The position of Minister for Agriculture and Commerce is quite a secondary one,' remarked M. Kahn in order to precipitate matters.

This was touching a sore spot. Clorinde was annoyed at her husband being shelved to what she considered a minor post. And she now sharply sprang into a sitting posture, and let fall the words that everyone had been waiting for: 'He can go to the office of the Interior as soon as ever we wish it,' said she.

Delestang tried to speak, but all the company rushed towards him amid an outburst of delight. Then at last he seemed to give in, a rosy flush suffused his cheeks, his handsome face fairly beamed with pleasure. Madame Correur and Madame Bouchard whispered to each other that he was remarkably good looking, and the latter, with that perverted taste which makes some women admire baldness, cast loving glances at his bare skull. Then M. Kahn, the colonel and the others, expressed by winks, gestures and hasty words the high estimate which they set upon his ability. They prostrated themselves before the feeblest mind of the whole coterie, and admired one another in his person. He, at any rate, would be an easy and docile master, and would never compromise them. They could set him up as a god with impunity, free from all fear of his thunderbolts.

'You are quite fatiguing him,' at last exclaimed pretty Madame Bouchard in her tender voice.

Fatiguing him, were they? At this there was a general outburst of sympathy. In point of fact Delestang was looking rather pale again, and his eyes had a sleepy expression. But nothing tries a man like brain-work, the visitors remarked to each other with an air of commiseration, and the poor fellow had been working since five o'clock that morning! Then they gently insisted that he should go to bed. And he obeyed them with quiet docility, kissing his wife on the forehead and then quitting the room.

It was now one o'clock, and the guests began to speak of retiring, whereupon Clorinde assured them that she was by no means sleepy, and that they might stay on. However, no one sat down again. The lamp in the boudoir had just gone out, and there was a strong smell of oil in the room. It was with difficulty that they could find sundry small articles, such as Madame Correur's fan, the colonel's stick, and Madame Bouchard's bonnet. Clorinde, calmly stretched on her bed, stopped Madame Correur just as the latter was going to ring for Antonia. The maid, it appeared, always went to bed at eleven o'clock. Then just as they were all going away, the colonel suddenly bethought himself of Auguste, whom he had forgotten. He found him asleep on a sofa in the boudoir, with his head resting on a dress which he had rolled up to form a pillow; and the others scolded him for not having attended to the lamp. In the gloom of the staircase, where the gas was turned very low, Madame Bouchard gave a little scream. She had twisted her foot, she said. Finally, as the visitors carefully felt their way with the aid of the balusters, loud peals of laughter were heard upstairs; Pozzo having lingered after the others had gone.

Every Thursday and Sunday the friends met at Clorinde's in this way; and it was generally rumoured that Madame Delestang now held political receptions. It was said that extremely liberal proclivities were aired at them, and that Rougon's despotic administration was vigorously attacked. The whole band indeed had now begun to dream of a sort of democratic empire in which every public liberty would gradually expand. The colonel, in his leisure moments, drew up codes of rules for trades-unions. M. Béjuin spoke of building cheap workmen's houses round his cut-glass works at Saint Florent, and M. Kahn talked to Delestang for hours at a time, of the democratic part that the Bonapartes were destined to play in modern society. And every fresh act of Rougon's was hailed with indignant protests, with expressions of patriotic alarm lest France should be ruined by such a man. One day Delestang started the theory that the Emperor was the only genuine Republican of his time. The coterie put on the airs of a religious sect to which the only means of salvation had been exclusively entrusted, and its members soon openly plotted the fat man's overthrow for the good of the country.

Clorinde, however, showed no inclination for haste. They would find her lying at full length on one or other of the couches in her rooms, gazing into the air as if examining patches of the ceiling. And while the others prated and walked impatiently about the room, she remained silent and impenetrable, merely glancing at them every now and then as though to advise them to be more guarded in their language. She now went out less than she had done previously, and with Antonia's assistance often amused herself by dressing as a man, seemingly to while away her time. She manifested, too, a sudden affection for her husband, kissing him before company, talking caressingly to him, and showing a lively anxiety about his health, which was excellent. It might be that she adopted these tactics to conceal the absolute sway and ceaseless surveillance which she maintained over him. She directed his slightest actions, taught him his lesson every morning like a school-boy who could not be trusted. Delestang on his side evinced the most docile obedience. He bowed, smiled, or frowned, said black was white or white was black, just as she pulled the string. And whenever he felt that he wanted winding up again, he voluntarily came back to her and placed himself in her hands to be manipulated. But all the while he seemed to outsiders to be the head of the household.

Clorinde still waited. M. Beulin-d'Orchère, although he avoided coming to her evening receptions, frequently saw her during the day. He complained bitterly of his brother-in-law, whom he accused of making the fortunes of a crowd of strangers, while he seemed to think nothing of his own relatives. It was entirely Rougon's doing, he asserted, if the Emperor had not entrusted the seals to himself. Rougon was afraid of having anyone in the council with whom he might have to share his influence. Clorinde did all she could to whet the judge's anger, and she also dropped hints of her husband's approaching triumph, and held out a vague hope that the rejected one might be included in the new ministry. She was, however, really making use of Beulin-d'Orchère to find out what went on at Rougon's house. With feminine vindictiveness she would have liked to see the great man unhappy in his domestic relations, and accordingly she spurred the judge on to persuade his sister to take his side against her husband. He tried to do so, no doubt, and may even have voiced his regrets respecting a marriage from which he had derived no benefit. But probably his words had no effect upon Madame Rougon's quiet, placid nature. To Clorinde he would say that his brother-in-law had seemed very nervous for some time past, and he would even hint that the fitting time for his overthrow had come. Then with his eyes fixed on the young woman, but with the amiable way of one who in all innocence retails the gossip of society, he would recount a whole series of Rougon's characteristic actions. Why did she not act, if she were really mistress of the situation? he seemed to urge. But Clorinde only stretched herself out the more, and put on the air of one who is kept indoors by wet weather, and must patiently await a ray of sunshine.

However, at the Tuileries the young woman's influence was certainly increasing; and courtiers spoke in whispers of his Majesty's strong admiration for her. At the balls and official receptions, indeed, everywhere that the Emperor met her, he was always hanging about her, casting side-long glances at her and whispering to her with a quiet smile. She on her side was playing her old part, the part she had played when she was looking for a husband, putting on the most enticing airs, behaving with a semblance of easy freedom, but always keeping on her guard and making her escape at the critical moment. She seemed, indeed, to be biding her time, waiting for the hour when the Emperor would be unable to refuse her any request that she might make of him. Doubtless she wished to secure the triumph of some long-planned scheme.

It was about this time that she suddenly began to manifest great affection for M. de Plouguern. For several months there had been a coolness between them. The old senator, who had been most constant in his attendance upon her, coming to see her almost every morning while she was dressing, was much annoyed one day at being refused admittance while she was engaged with her toilette. He thought this a great shame, for wasn't he her godfather, he asked, and hadn't he dandled her upon his knees when she was quite a little child? However, M. de Plouguern urged all this in vain. Matters ended in a rupture, and whenever M. Kahn or Colonel Jobelin happened to ask the young woman about the old senator, she would somewhat stiffly reply: 'I'm told that he is growing young again. But I never see him now.'

This lasted for a time. Then, all at once M. de Plouguern was to be constantly found at her house. He wandered about it at all hours of the day, doing Clorinde's bidding like a maid of all work: 'Godfather, go and get me my nail-file!' she would say, 'It is in the drawer, you know--Godfather, get me the sponge.'

She called him godfather in a caressing, affectionate manner. On his side he now frequently spoke of Count Balbi, and gave details of Clorinde's birth. He asserted that he had been introduced to her mother but a short time before that birth; which was distinctly false. However, the relative positions of the two were never clearly ascertained. Nor did people learn what business it was that had again brought Clorinde and the old senator together. In all probability he was just then necessary to her; she had some part for him to play in a drama of which she was constantly dreaming. She would indeed talk to him in obscure terms of some vague indefinite event which was very slowly approaching consummation. And on his side he seemed to be calculating combinations like a chess-player, though he generally ended by shaking his head as though he could come to no satisfactory conclusion.

On the few occasions when Rougon came to see Clorinde, she affected great weariness and spoke of going to Italy for three months. But then with lowered eyelids she would examine him with a sharp gleaming glance, while a smile of refined cruelty hardened her lips. She would have liked to strangle him then and there with her tapering fingers, but she was anxious that her attack should prove quite effective when it did come; and this long wait for the time when her nails would be fully grown was not without a spice of pleasure to her. Rougon, who was always very absent-minded, shook hands with her mechanically, never noticing the nervous fever of her flesh. He even fancied that she had given up her eccentricities, and complimented her upon rendering obedience to her husband. 'You are now nearly all that I wished you to be,' he said to her. 'You have taken the right course. Women ought to remain quietly at home.'

'Good heavens! what an idiot he is!' she exclaimed with a shrill laugh when he had gone away. 'And he thinks that it is the women who are the idiots!'

At last, one Sunday evening towards ten o'clock, when the whole band had assembled in Clorinde's bedroom, M. de Plouguern came in with a triumphant air: 'Well,' he exclaimed, trying to appear extremely indignant, 'have you heard of Rougon's last exploit? This time, surely, the measure is full!'

They all eagerly clustered round him. No one had heard of anything.

'Ah! It is abominable!' he added, excitedly waving his arm in the air. 'It is inconceivable that a minister could sink to such depths!'

Then he entered into particulars. When the Charbonnels had gone to Faverolles to take possession of their cousin Chevassu's property, they had made a great out-cry about the alleged disappearance of a large quantity of silver plate. They accused the woman who had been left in charge of the house, a very pious person, of having stolen it. They asserted that this miserable creature, upon learning the decision of the Council of State, had conspired with the Sisters of the Holy Family and carried to their convent all such valuables as could easily be concealed. Three days later the Charbonnels dropped the accusations against the housekeeper and charged the Sisters themselves with having ransacked the house. This caused a terrible scandal in the town. However, the commissary of police still refused to search the convent, when Rougon, after receiving a letter from the Charbonnels, telegraphed to the prefect directing him to order a strict perquisition at once.

'Yes, a strict perquisition, those were the words in the message,' M. de Plouguern said in conclusion, 'And then the commissary and two gendarmes were seen ransacking the convent. They were there for five hours. The gendarmes insisted upon poking into every corner. They even examined the Sisters' beds to see if the missing plate were under the mattresses.'

'Oh! how abominable!' cried Madame Bouchard, in disgust.

'He must be entirely destitute of the slightest idea of religion!' declared the colonel.

'Well, what can you expect?' asked Madame Correur. 'Rougon has never conformed with the requirements of faith. I often tried to reconcile him with God, but always failed in my efforts.'

M. Bouchard and M. Béjuin shook their heads in a hopeless sort of way, as though they had just heard of some frightful social catastrophe which made them despair of humanity; while M. Kahn, energetically rubbing his fringe of beard, inquired: 'Of course they discovered nothing in the convent?'

'Absolutely nothing!' replied M. de Plouguern. Then he continued hastily: 'A silver sauce-pan, I think, two cups, and a cruet-stand, mere trifles, presents which the esteemed deceased, an old man of extreme piety, had given to the Sisters in acknowledgment of their kind attention to him during his long illness.'

'Yes, yes, of course!' said the others.

The old senator dwelt no further on that subject; but in a very deliberate way, accentuating each sentence by bringing one hand down upon the other, he resumed: 'That, however, is not the important point. The question is one of the respect due to a convent, to one of those holy houses where the virtues, driven from our impious society, have sought refuge. How can we expect the masses to be religious when they see attacks made upon religion by men in such high positions? Rougon has been guilty of utter sacrilege in this matter, and he will be called to account for it. All the decent minded folks in Faverolles are bursting with indignation. Monseigneur Rochart, the well-known bishop, who has always manifested a particular affection for the Sisters, has come to Paris to demand justice. In the Senate, too, to-day a great deal of annoyance was shown, and there was some talk of raising a discussion on the strength of a few details which I was able to supply. And finally the Empress herself----'

Every head was now eagerly craned forward.

'Yes, the Empress has learnt this deplorable story from Madame de Llorentz, who heard it from our friend La Rouquette, to whom I myself told it. When she heard it her Majesty exclaimed: 'Monsieur Rougon is no longer worthy of speaking in the name of France!'

'Quite right!' said all the others.

All through that Thursday night and until one o'clock the next morning nothing else was talked of. Clorinde had not opened her mouth. At M. de Plouguern's first words she had lain back on her couch, looking a little pale and compressing her lips. Then, unnoticed, she quickly crossed herself three times, as though thanking heaven for having at last granted her a long-entreated favour. The narrative of the perquisition wrung from her various gestures expressive of outraged piety, and gradually she flushed quite red. Then, gazing up towards the dim ceiling she became absorbed in reverie.

And while the others were discussing the matter, M. de Plouguern glided to the young woman's side, and with his sceptical snigger softly whispered in her ear: 'He has insulted God Almighty! He is done for!'

XIII

CLORINDE'S REVENGE

During the ensuing week, Rougon heard a growing clamour rise around him. Everything else might have been forgiven: his abuse of power, the grasping greed of his band, and the choking grip in which he held the whole country; but to have sent gendarmes to poke about the cells of the Sisters was so monstrous a crime that the ladies of the Court affected to shudder when he passed them. Then, too, Monseigneur Rochart was creating a terrible commotion throughout the official world, and it was said that he had even complained to the Empress herself on the subject. Moreover, the scandal was doubtless kept alive by a few wily individuals, who were bent on making the most of it; for orders and suggestions circulated, and the same complaints were raised at once in every quarter. Amidst all these furious attacks, Rougon at first maintained a perfectly serene and smiling demeanour. He shrugged his broad shoulders and spoke scoffingly of the whole matter. At an evening reception at the Ministry of Justice he even remarked: 'By the way, I never told you that they found a priest hidden in the convent.' However, when this sally circulated there was a fresh outburst of anger, and then he on his side at last became impassioned. People were making him quite sick with all their foolish talk, he said; the Sisters were certainly thieves, for silver cups and saucepans had been discovered in their possession. And he actually showed an inclination to take further steps in the matter, made inquiries, and threatened to overwhelm the whole clergy of Faverolles with confusion in the law-courts.

Early one morning, however, the Charbonnels presented themselves before him; at which he was much astonished, for he did not know that they were even in Paris. As soon as he saw them, he exclaimed that matters were proceeding most satisfactorily, and that he had sent instructions to the prefect to compel the public prosecutor to take active steps. But at this M. Charbonnel assumed an expression of consternation, and Madame Charbonnel replied: 'No, no! we don't want that! You have gone too far, Monsieur Rougon. You have quite misunderstood us.'

Then they both began to sing the praises of the Sisters of the Holy Family, who were extremely good women, they said; though they themselves had for a moment gone to law against them, they had never ventured so far as to accuse them of anything base. Such a charge would have produced the greatest amazement in Faverolles, where everyone in society held the Sisters in such high esteem.

'You will do us the greatest injury, Monsieur Rougon,' Madame Charbonnel said, in conclusion, 'if you continue to show such violence towards religion. We have come to pray you to desist from further action. Down yonder people don't understand the real state of affairs, but think that it is we who are hounding you on; so, if you don't stop, they will end by stoning us.... We have made a handsome present to the convent, an ivory crucifix, which used to hang at the foot of our poor cousin's bed.'

'Well, we've warned you now,' added M. Charbonnel, 'and the responsibility rests with you. We have nothing further to do with the business.'

Rougon let them talk on. They seemed to be very much displeased with him, and gradually raised their voices in indignation. As the minister looked at them he felt a slight chill and sudden lassitude, as though some portion of his strength had again been ravished from him. However, he made no attempt to discuss the subject, but dismissed his visitors, promising that he would take no further steps in the affair; and, indeed, so far as he was concerned, he let the whole matter die out.

During the last few days his name had been indirectly mixed up in another scandal. A frightful tragedy had taken place at Coulonges. Du Poizat, obstinately intent upon getting the better of his father, had again one morning knocked at the old miser's door. Five minutes afterwards the neighbours heard the sound of gun-shots in the house, accompanied by fearful shrieks. When they made their way inside, they found the old man stretched at the foot of the staircase with his head split open. Two discharged guns were lying on the hall floor, and Du Poizat told them, with a livid face, that his father, upon seeing him advance towards the staircase, had suddenly shouted, 'Thieves!' as though he were mad, and had fired upon him twice, almost touching him with the muzzle of his gun. In proof of this, he even showed them a bullet-hole in his hat. However, said he, just as his father was advancing still nearer, he had fallen and broken his skull against the bottom step. This tragical death, this mysterious, unwitnessed drama, had given rise to the most unpleasant rumours throughout the department. The doctors said it was clear that the old man had died of an attack of apoplexy. Nevertheless, the prefect's enemies insinuated that he must have given his father a push, and the number of these enemies increased day by day, owing to the harshness of his rule, which oppressed Niort as with a reign of terror. Stern and pale, with his teeth clenched and his hands twitching, Du Poizat had to check the gossips on their doorsteps with a glance from his fierce grey eyes as he passed along the streets.