CHAPTER V

THE MACHINE IN MOTION

At this moment the division of Monsieur de la Billardiere was in a

state of unusual excitement, resulting very naturally from the event

which was about to happen; for heads of divisions do not die every

day, and there is no insurance office where the chances of life and

death are calculated with more sagacity than in a government bureau.

Self-interest stifles all compassion, as it does in children, but the

government service adds hypocrisy to boot.

The clerks of the bureau Baudoyer arrived at eight o'clock in the

morning, whereas those of the bureau Rabourdin seldom appeared till

nine,--a circumstance which did not prevent the work in the latter

office from being more rapidly dispatched than that of the former.

Dutocq had important reasons for coming early on this particular

morning. The previous evening he had furtively entered the study where

Sebastien was at work, and had seen him copying some papers for

Rabourdin; he concealed himself until he saw Sebastien leave the

premises without taking any papers away with him. Certain, therefore,

of finding the rather voluminous memorandum which he had seen,

together with its copy, in some corner of the study, he searched

through the boxes one after another until he finally came upon the

fatal list. He carried it in hot haste to an autograph-printing house,

where he obtained two pressed copies of the memorandum, showing, of

course, Rabourdin's own writing. Anxious not to arouse suspicion, he

had gone very early to the office and replaced both the memorandum and

Sebastien's copy in the box from which he had taken them. Sebastien,

who was kept up till after midnight at Madame Rabourdin's party, was,

in spite of his desire to get to the office early, preceded by the

spirit of hatred. Hatred lived in the rue Saint-Louis-Saint-Honore,

whereas love and devotion lived far-off in the rue du Roi-Dore in the

Marais. This slight delay was destined to affect Rabourdin's whole

career.

Sebastien opened his box eagerly, found the memorandum and his own

unfinished copy all in order, and locked them at once into the desk as

Rabourdin had directed. The mornings are dark in these offices towards

the end of December, sometimes indeed the lamps are lit till after ten

o'clock; consequently Sebastien did not happen to notice the pressure

of the copying-machine upon the paper. But when, about half-past nine

o'clock, Rabourdin looked at his memorandum he saw at once the effects

of the copying process, and all the more readily because he was then

considering whether these autographic presses could not be made to do

the work of copying clerks.

"Did any one get to the office before you?" he asked.

"Yes," replied Sebastien,--"Monsieur Dutocq."

"Ah! well, he was punctual. Send Antoine to me."

Too noble to distress Sebastien uselessly by blaming him for a

misfortune now beyond remedy, Rabourdin said no more. Antoine came.

Rabourdin asked if any clerk had remained at the office after four

o'clock the previous evening. The man replied that Monsieur Dutocq had

worked there later than Monsieur de la Roche, who was usually the last

to leave. Rabourdin dismissed him with a nod, and resumed the thread

of his reflections.

"Twice I have prevented his dismissal," he said to himself, "and this

is my reward."

This morning was to Rabourdin like the solemn hour in which great

commanders decide upon a battle and weigh all chances. Knowing the

spirit of official life better than any one, he well knew that it

would never pardon, any more than a school or the galleys or the army

pardon, what looked like espionage or tale-bearing. A man capable of

informing against his comrades is disgraced, dishonored, despised; the

ministers in such a case would disavow their own agents. Nothing was

left to an official so placed but to send in his resignation and leave

Paris; his honor is permanently stained; explanations are of no avail;

no one will either ask for them or listen to them. A minister may well

do the same thing and be thought a great man, able to choose the right

instruments; but a mere subordinate will be judged as a spy, no matter

what may be his motives. While justly measuring the folly of such

judgment, Rabourdin knew that it was all-powerful; and he knew, too,

that he was crushed. More surprised than overwhelmed, he now sought

for the best course to follow under the circumstances; and with such

thoughts in his mind he was necessarily aloof from the excitement

caused in the division by the death of Monsieur de la Billardiere; in

fact he did not hear of it until young La Briere, who was able to

appreciate his sterling value, came to tell him. About ten o'clock, in

the bureau Baudoyer, Bixiou was relating the last moments of the life

of the director to Minard, Desroys, Monsieur Godard, whom he had

called from his private office, and Dutocq, who had rushed in with

private motives of his own. Colleville and Chazelle were absent.

Bixiou [standing with his back to the stove and holding up the sole of

each boot alternately to dry at the open door]. "This morning, at half-

past seven, I went to inquire after our most worthy and respectable

director, knight of the order of Christ, et caetera, et caetera. Yes,

gentlemen, last night he was a being with twenty et caeteras, to-day

he is nothing, not even a government clerk. I asked all particulars of

his nurse. She told me that this morning at five o'clock he became

uneasy about the royal family. He asked for the names of all the

clerks who had called to inquire after him; and then he said: 'Fill my

snuff-box, give me the newspaper, bring my spectacles, and change my

ribbon of the Legion of honor,--it is very dirty.' I suppose you know

he always wore his orders in bed. He was fully conscious, retained his

senses and all his usual ideas. But, presto! ten minutes later the

water rose, rose, rose and flooded his chest; he knew he was dying for

he felt the cysts break. At that fatal moment he gave evident proof of

his powerful mind and vast intellect. Ah, we never rightly appreciated

him! We used to laugh at him and call him a booby--didn't you,

Monsieur Godard?"

Godard. "I? I always rated Monsieur de la Billardiere's talents higher

than the rest of you."

Bixiou. "You and he could understand each other!"

Godard. "He wasn't a bad man; he never harmed any one."

Bixiou. "To do harm you must do something, and he never did anything.

If it wasn't you who said he was a dolt, it must have been Minard."

Minard [shrugging his shoulders]. "I!"

Bixiou. "Well, then it was you, Dutocq!" [Dutocq made a vehement

gesture of denial.] "Oh! very good, then it was nobody. Every one in

this office knew his intellect was herculean. Well, you were right. He

ended, as I have said, like the great man that he was."

Desroys [impatiently]. "Pray what did he do that was so great? he had

the weakness to confess himself."

Bixiou. "Yes, monsieur, he received the holy sacraments. But do you

know what he did in order to receive them? He put on his uniform as

gentleman-in-ordinary of the Bedchamber, with all his orders, and had

himself powdered; they tied his queue (that poor queue!) with a fresh

ribbon. Now I say that none but a man of remarkable character would

have his queue tied with a fresh ribbon just as he was dying. There

are eight of us here, and I don't believe one among us is capable of

such an act. But that's not all; he said,--for you know all celebrated

men make a dying speech; he said,--stop now, what did he say? Ah! he

said, 'I must attire myself to meet the King of Heaven,--I, who have

so often dressed in my best for audience with the kings of earth.'

That's how Monsieur de la Billardiere departed this life. He took upon

himself to justify the saying of Pythagoras, 'No man is known until he

dies.'"

Colleville [rushing in]. "Gentlemen, great news!"

All. "We know it."

Colleville. "I defy you to know it! I have been hunting for it ever

since the accession of His Majesty to the thrones of France and of

Navarre. Last night I succeeded! but with what labor! Madame

Colleville asked me what was the matter."

Dutocq. "Do you think we have time to bother ourselves with your

intolerable anagrams when the worthy Monsieur de la Billardiere has

just expired?"

Colleville. "That's Bixiou's nonsense! I have just come from Monsieur

de la Billardiere's; he is still living, though they expect him to die

soon." [Godard, indignant at the hoax, goes off grumbling.]

"Gentlemen! you would never guess what extraordinary events are

revealed by the anagram of this sacramental sentence" [he pulls out a

piece of paper and reads], "Charles dix, par la grace de Dieu, roi de

France et de Navarre."

Godard [re-entering]. "Tell what it is at once, and don't keep people

waiting."

Colleville [triumphantly unfolding the rest of the paper]. "Listen!

"A H. V. il cedera;

De S. C. l. d. partira;

Eh nauf errera,

Decide a Gorix.

"Every letter is there!" [He repeats it.] "A Henry cinq cedera (his

crown of course); de Saint-Cloud partira; en nauf (that's an old

French word for skiff, vessel, felucca, corvette, anything you like)

errera--"

Dutocq. "What a tissue of absurdities! How can the King cede his crown

to Henry V., who, according to your nonsense, must be his grandson,

when Monseigneur le Dauphin is living. Are you prophesying the

Dauphin's death?"

Bixiou. "What's Gorix, pray?--the name of a cat?"

Colleville [provoked]. "It is the archaeological and lapidarial

abbreviation of the name of a town, my good friend; I looked it out in

Malte-Brun: Goritz, in Latin Gorixia, situated in Bohemia or Hungary,

or it may be Austria--"

Bixiou. "Tyrol, the Basque provinces, or South America. Why don't you

set it all to music and play it on the clarionet?"

Godard [shrugging his shoulders and departing]. "What utter nonsense!"

Colleville. "Nonsense! nonsense indeed! It is a pity you don't take

the trouble to study fatalism, the religion of the Emperor Napoleon."

Godard [irritated at Colleville's tone]. "Monsieur Colleville, let me

tell you that Bonaparte may perhaps be styled Emperor by historians,

but it is extremely out of place to refer to him as such in a

government office."

Bixiou [laughing]. "Get an anagram out of that, my dear fellow."

Colleville [angrily]. "Let me tell you that if Napoleon Bonaparte had

studied the letters of his name on the 14th of April, 1814, he might

perhaps be Emperor still."

Bixiou. "How do you make that out?"

Colleville [solemnly]. "Napoleon Bonaparte.--No, appear not at Elba!"

Dutocq. "You'll lose your place for talking such nonsense."

Colleville. "If my place is taken from me, Francois Keller will make

it hot for your minister." [Dead silence.] "I'd have you to know,

Master Dutocq, that all known anagrams have actually come to pass.

Look here,--you, yourself,--don't you marry, for there's 'coqu' in

your name."

Bixiou [interrupting]. "And d, t, for de-testable."

Dutocq [without seeming angry]. "I don't care, as long as it is only

in my name. Why don't you anagrammatize, or whatever you call it,

'Xavier Rabourdin, chef du bureau'?"

Colleville. "Bless you, so I have!"

Bixiou [mending his pen]. "And what did you make of it?"

Colleville. "It comes out as follows: D'abord reva bureaux, E-u,--(you

catch the meaning? et eut--and had) E-u fin riche; which signifies

that after first belonging to the administration, he gave it up and

got rich elsewhere." [Repeats.] "D'abord reva bureaux, E-u fin riche."

Dutocq. "That IS queer!"

Bixiou. "Try Isidore Baudoyer."

Colleville [mysteriously]. "I sha'n't tell the other anagrams to any

one but Thuillier."

Bixiou. "I'll bet you a breakfast that I can tell that one myself."

Colleville. "And I'll pay if you find it out."

Bixiou. "Then I shall breakfast at your expense; but you won't be

angry, will you? Two such geniuses as you and I need never conflict.

'Isidore Baudoyer' anagrams into 'Ris d'aboyeur d'oie.'"

Colleville [petrified with amazement]. "You stole it from me!"

Bixiou [with dignity]. "Monsieur Colleville, do me the honor to

believe that I am rich enough in absurdity not to steal my neighbor's

nonsense."

Baudoyer [entering with a bundle of papers in his hand]. "Gentlemen, I

request you to shout a little louder; you bring this office into such

high repute with the administration. My worthy coadjutor, Monsieur

Clergeot, did me the honor just now to come and ask a question, and he

heard the noise you are making" [passes into Monsieur Godard's room].

Bixiou [in a low voice]. "The watch-dog is very tame this morning;

there'll be a change of weather before night."

Dutocq [whispering to Bixiou]. "I have something I want to say to

you."

Bixiou [fingering Dutocq's waistcoat]. "You've a pretty waistcoat,

that cost you nothing; is that what you want to say?"

Dutocq. "Nothing, indeed! I never paid so dear for anything in my

life. That stuff cost six francs a yard in the best shop in the rue de

la Paix,--a fine dead stuff, the very thing for deep mourning."

Bixiou. "You know about engravings and such things, my dear fellow,

but you are totally ignorant of the laws of etiquette. Well, no man

can be a universal genius! Silk is positively not admissible in deep

mourning. Don't you see I am wearing woollen? Monsieur Rabourdin,

Monsieur Baudoyer, and the minister are all in woollen; so is the

faubourg Saint-Germain. There's no one here but Minard who doesn't

wear woollen; he's afraid of being taken for a sheep. That's the

reason why he didn't put on mourning for Louis XVIII."

[During this conversation Baudoyer is sitting by the fire in Godard's

room, and the two are conversing in a low voice.]

Baudoyer. "Yes, the worthy man is dying. The two ministers are both

with him. My father-in-law has been notified of the event. If you want

to do me a signal service you will take a cab and go and let Madame

Baudoyer know what is happening; for Monsieur Saillard can't leave his

desk, nor I my office. Put yourself at my wife's orders; do whatever

she wishes. She has, I believe, some ideas of her own, and wants to

take certain steps simultaneously." [The two functionaries go out

together.]

Godard. "Monsieur Bixiou, I am obliged to leave the office for the

rest of the day. You will take my place."

Baudoyer [to Bixiou, benignly]. "Consult me, if there is any

necessity."

Bixiou. "This time, La Billardiere is really dead."

Dutocq [in Bixiou's ear]. "Come outside a minute." [The two go into

the corridor and gaze at each other like birds of ill-omen.]

Dutocq [whispering]. "Listen. Now is the time for us to understand

each other and push our way. What would you say to your being made

head of the bureau, and I under you?"

Bixiou [shrugging his shoulders]. "Come, come, don't talk nonsense!"

Dutocq. "If Baudoyer gets La Billardiere's place Rabourdin won't stay

on where he is. Between ourselves, Baudoyer is so incapable that if du

Bruel and you don't help him he will certainly be dismissed in a

couple of months. If I know arithmetic that will give three empty

places for us to fill--"

Bixiou. "Three places right under our noses, which will certainly be

given to some bloated favorite, some spy, some pious fraud,--to

Colleville perhaps, whose wife has ended where all pretty women end--

in piety."

Dutocq. "No, to YOU, my dear fellow, if you will only, for once in

your life, use your wits logically." [He stopped as if to study the

effect of his adverb in Bixiou's face.] "Come, let us play fair."

Bixiou [stolidly]. "Let me see your game."

Dutocq. "I don't wish to be anything more than under-head-clerk. I

know myself perfectly well, and I know I haven't the ability, like

you, to be head of a bureau. Du Bruel can be director, and you the

head of this bureau; he will leave you his place as soon as he has

made his pile; and as for me, I shall swim with the tide comfortably,

under your protection, till I can retire on a pension."

Bixiou. "Sly dog! but how to you expect to carry out a plan which

means forcing the minister's hand and ejecting a man of talent?

Between ourselves, Rabourdin is the only man capable of taking charge

of the division, and I might say of the ministry. Do you know that

they talk of putting in over his head that solid lump of foolishness,

that cube of idiocy, Baudoyer?"

Dutocq [consequentially]. "My dear fellow, I am in a position to rouse

the whole division against Rabourdin. You know how devoted Fleury is

to him? Well, I can make Fleury despise him."

Bixiou. "Despised by Fleury!"

Dutocq. "Not a soul will stand by Rabourdin; the clerks will go in a

body and complain of him to the minister,--not only in our division,

but in all the divisions--"

Bixiou. "Forward, march! infantry, cavalry, artillery, and marines of

the guard! You rave, my good fellow! And I, what part am I to take in

the business?"

Dutocq. "You are to make a cutting caricature,--sharp enough to kill a

man."

Bixiou. "How much will you pay for it?"

Dutocq. "A hundred francs."

Bixiou [to himself]. "Then there is something in it."

Dutocq [continuing]. "You must represent Rabourdin dressed as a

butcher (make it a good likeness), find analogies between a kitchen

and a bureau, put a skewer in his hand, draw portraits of the

principal clerks and stick their heads on fowls, put them in a

monstrous coop labelled 'Civil Service executions'; make him cutting

the throat of one, and supposed to take the others in turn. You can

have geese and ducks with heads like ours,--you understand! Baudoyer,

for instance, he'll make an excellent turkey-buzzard."

Bixiou. "Ris d'aboyeur d'oie!" [He has watched Dutocq carefully for

some time.] "Did you think of that yourself?"

Dutocq. "Yes, I myself."

Bixiou [to himself]. "Do evil feelings bring men to the same result as

talents?" [Aloud] "Well, I'll do it" [Dutocq makes a motion of

delight] "--when" [full stop] "--I know where I am and what I can rely

on. If you don't succeed I shall lose my place, and I must make a

living. You are a curious kind of innocent still, my dear colleague."

Dutocq. "Well, you needn't make the lithograph till success is

proved."

Bixiou. "Why don't you come out and tell me the whole truth?"

Dutocq. "I must first see how the land lays in the bureau; we will

talk about it later" [goes off].

Bixiou [alone in the corridor]. "That fish, for he's more a fish than

a bird, that Dutocq has a good idea in his head--I'm sure I don't know

where he stole it. If Baudoyer should succeed La Billardiere it would

be fun, more than fun--profit!" [Returns to the office.] "Gentlemen, I

announce glorious changes; papa La Billardiere is dead, really dead,--

no nonsense, word of honor! Godard is off on business for our

excellent chief Baudoyer, successor presumptive to the deceased."

[Minard, Desroys, and Colleville raise their heads in amazement; they

all lay down their pens, and Colleville blows his nose.] "Every one of

us is to be promoted! Colleville will be under-head-clerk at the very

least. Minard may have my place as chief clerk--why not? he is quite

as dull as I am. Hey, Minard, if you should get twenty-five hundred

francs a-year your little wife would be uncommonly pleased, and you

could buy yourself a pair of boots now and then."

Colleville. "But you don't get twenty-five hundred francs."

Bixiou. "Monsieur Dutocq gets that in Rabourdin's office; why

shouldn't I get it this year? Monsieur Baudoyer gets it."

Colleville. "Only through the influence of Monsieur Saillard. No other

chief clerk gets that in any of the divisions."

Paulmier. "Bah! Hasn't Monsieur Cochin three thousand? He succeeded

Monsieur Vavasseur, who served ten years under the Empire at four

thousand. His salary was dropped to three when the King first

returned; then to two thousand five hundred before Vavasseur died. But

Monsieur Cochin, who succeeded him, had influence enough to get the

salary put back to three thousand."

Colleville. "Monsieur Cochin signs E. A. L. Cochin (he is named Emile-

Adolphe-Lucian), which, when anagrammed, gives Cochineal. Now observe,

he's a partner in a druggist's business in the rue des Lombards, the

Maison Matifat, which made its fortune by that identical colonial

product."

Baudoyer [entering]. "Monsieur Chazelle, I see, is not here; you will

be good enough to say I asked for him, gentlemen."

Bixiou [who had hastily stuck a hat on Chazelle's chair when he heard

Baudoyer's step]. "Excuse me, Monsieur, but Chazelle has gone to the

Rabourdins' to make an inquiry."

Chazelle [entering with his hat on his head, and not seeing Baudoyer].

"La Billardiere is done for, gentlemen! Rabourdin is head of the

division and Master of petitions; he hasn't stolen HIS promotion,

that's very certain."

Baudoyer [to Chazelle]. "You found that appointment in your second

hat, I presume" [points to the hat on the chair]. "This is the third

time within a month that you have come after nine o'clock. If you

continue the practice you will get on--elsewhere." [To Bixiou, who is

reading the newspaper.] "My dear Monsieur Bixiou, do pray leave the

newspapers to these gentlemen who are going to breakfast, and come

into my office for your orders for the day. I don't know what Monsieur

Rabourdin wants with Gabriel; he keeps him to do his private errands,

I believe. I've rung three times and can't get him." [Baudoyer and

Bixiou retire into the private office.]

Chazelle. "Damned unlucky!"

Paulmier [delighted to annoy Chazelle]. "Why didn't you look about

when you came into the room? You might have seen the elephant, and the

hat too; they are big enough to be visible."

Chazelle [dismally]. "Disgusting business! I don't see why we should

be treated like slaves because the government gives us four francs and

sixty-five centimes a day."

Fleury [entering]. "Down with Baudoyer! hurrah for Rabourdin!--that's

the cry in the division."

Chazelle [getting more and more angry]. "Baudoyer can turn off me if

he likes, I sha'n't care. In Paris there are a thousand ways of

earning five francs a day; why, I could earn that at the Palais de

Justice, copying briefs for the lawyers."

Paulmier [still prodding him]. "It is very easy to say that; but a

government place is a government place, and that plucky Colleville,

who works like a galley-slave outside of this office, and who could

earn, if he lost his appointment, more than his salary, prefers to

keep his place. Who the devil is fool enough to give up his

expectations?"

Chazelle [continuing his philippic]. "You may not be, but I am! We

have no chances at all. Time was when nothing was more encouraging

than a civil-service career. So many men were in the army that there

were not enough for the government work; the maimed and the halt and

the sick ones, like Paulmier, and the near-sighted ones, all had their

chance of a rapid promotion. But now, ever since the Chamber invented

what they called special training, and the rules and regulations for

civil-service examiners, we are worse off than common soldiers. The

poorest places are at the mercy of a thousand mischances because we

are now ruled by a thousand sovereigns."

Bixiou [returning]. "Are you crazy, Chazelle? Where do you find a

thousand sovereigns?--not in your pocket, are they?"

Chazelle. "Count them up. There are four hundred over there at the end

of the pont de la Concorde (so called because it leads to the scene of

perpetual discord between the Right and Left of the Chamber); three

hundred more at the end of the rue de Tournon. The court, which ought

to count for the other three hundred, has seven hundred parts less

power to get a man appointed to a place under government than the

Emperor Napoleon had."

Fleury. "All of which signifies that in a country where there are

three powers you may bet a thousand to one that a government clerk who

has no influence but his own merits to advance him will remain in

obscurity."

Bixiou [looking alternately at Chazelle and Fleury]. "My sons, you

have yet to learn that in these days the worst state of life is the

state of belonging to the State."

Fleury. "Because it has a constitutional government."

Colleville. "Gentlemen, gentlemen! no politics!"

Bixiou. "Fleury is right. Serving the State in these days is no longer

serving a prince who knew how to punish and reward. The State now is

EVERYBODY. Everybody of course cares for nobody. Serve everybody, and

you serve nobody. Nobody is interested in nobody; the government clerk

lives between two negations. The world has neither pity nor respect,

neither heart nor head; everybody forgets to-morrow the service of

yesterday. Now each one of you may be, like Monsieur Baudoyer, an

administrative genius, a Chateaubriand of reports, a Bossouet of

circulars, the Canalis of memorials, the gifted son of diplomatic

despatches; but I tell you there is a fatal law which interferes with

all administrative genius,--I mean the law of promotion by average.

This average is based on the statistics of promotion and the

statistics of mortality combined. It is very certain that on entering

whichever section of the Civil Service you please at the age of

eighteen, you can't get eighteen hundred francs a year till you reach

the age of thirty. Now there's no free and independent career in

which, in the course of twelve years, a young man who has gone through

the grammar-school, been vaccinated, is exempt from military service,

and possesses all his faculties (I don't mean transcendent ones) can't

amass a capital of forty-five thousand francs in centimes, which

represents a permanent income equal to our salaries, which are, after

all, precarious. In twelve years a grocer can earn enough to give him

ten thousand francs a year; a painter can daub a mile of canvas and be

decorated with the Legion of honor, or pose as a neglected genius. A

literary man becomes professor of something or other, or a journalist

at a hundred francs for a thousand lines; he writes "feuilletons," or

he gets into Saint-Pelagie for a brilliant article that offends the

Jesuits,--which of course is an immense benefit to him and makes him a

politician at once. Even a lazy man, who does nothing but make debts,

has time to marry a widow who pays them; a priest finds time to become

a bishop "in partibus." A sober, intelligent young fellow, who begins

with a small capital as a money-changer, soon buys a share in a

broker's business; and, to go even lower, a petty clerk becomes a

notary, a rag-picker lays by two or three thousand francs a year, and

the poorest workmen often become manufacturers; whereas, in the

rotatory movement of this present civilization, which mistakes

perpetual division and redivision for progress, an unhappy civil

service clerk, like Chazelle for instance, is forced to dine for

twenty-two sous a meal, struggles with his tailor and bootmaker, gets

into debt, and is an absolute nothing; worse than that, he becomes an

idiot! Come, gentlemen, now's the time to make a stand! Let us all

give in our resignations! Fleury, Chazelle, fling yourselves into

other employments and become the great men you really are."

Chazelle [calmed down by Bixiou's allocution]. "No, I thank you"

[general laughter].

Bixiou. "You are wrong; in your situation I should try to get ahead of

the general-secretary."

Chazelle [uneasily]. "What has he to do with me?"

Bixiou. "You'll find out; do you suppose Baudoyer will overlook what

happened just now?"

Fleury. "Another piece of Bixiou's spite! You've a queer fellow to

deal with in there. Now, Monsieur Rabourdin,--there's a man for you!

He put work on my table to-day that you couldn't get through within

this office in three days; well, he expects me to have it done by four

o'clock to-day. But he is not always at my heels to hinder me from

talking to my friends."

Baudoyer [appearing at the door]. "Gentlemen, you will admit that if

you have the legal right to find fault with the chamber and the

administration you must at least do so elsewhere than in this office."

[To Fleury.] "What are you doing here, monsieur?"

Fleury [insolently]. "I came to tell these gentlemen that there was to

be a general turn-out. Du Bruel is sent for to the ministry, and

Dutocq also. Everybody is asking who will be appointed."

Baudoyer [retiring]. "It is not your affair, sir; go back to your own

office, and do not disturb mine."

Fleury [in the doorway]. "It would be a shameful injustice if

Rabourdin lost the place; I swear I'd leave the service. Did you find

that anagram, papa Colleville?"

Colleville. "Yes, here it is."

Fleury [leaning over Colleville's desk]. "Capital! famous! This is

just what will happen if the administration continues to play the

hypocrite." [He makes a sign to the clerks that Baudoyer is

listening.] "If the government would frankly state its intentions

without concealments of any kind, the liberals would know what they

had to deal with. An administration which sets its best friends

against itself, such men as those of the 'Debats,' Chateaubriand, and

Royer-Collard, is only to be pitied!"

Colleville [after consulting his colleagues]. "Come, Fleury, you're a

good fellow, but don't talk politics here; you don't know what harm

you may do us."

Fleury [dryly]. "Well, adieu, gentlemen; I have my work to do by four

o'clock."

While this idle talk had been going on, des Lupeaulx was closeted in

his office with du Bruel, where, a little later, Dutocq joined them.

Des Lupeaulx had heard from his valet of La Billardiere's death, and

wishing to please the two ministers, he wanted an obituary article to

appear in the evening papers.

"Good morning, my dear du Bruel," said the semi-minister to the head-

clerk as he entered, and not inviting him to sit down. "You have heard

the news? La Billardiere is dead. The ministers were both present when

he received the last sacraments. The worthy man strongly recommended

Rabourdin, saying he should die with less regret if he could know that

his successor were the man who had so constantly done his work. Death

is a torture which makes a man confess everything. The minister agreed

the more readily because his intention and that of the Council was to

reward Monsieur Rabourdin's numerous services. In fact, the Council of

State needs his experience. They say that young La Billardiere is to

leave the division of his father and go to the Commission of Seals;

that's just the same as if the King had made him a present of a

hundred thousand francs,--the place can always be sold. But I know the

news will delight your division, which will thus get rid of him. Du

Bruel, we must get ten or a dozen lines about the worthy late director

into the papers; his Excellency will glance them over,--he reads the

papers. Do you know the particulars of old La Billardiere's life?"

Du Bruel made a sign in the negative.

"No?" continued des Lupeaulx. "Well then; he was mixed up in the

affairs of La Vendee, and he was one of the confidants of the late

King. Like Monsieur le Comte de Fontaine he always refused to hold

communication with the First Consul. He was a bit of a 'chouan'; born

in Brittany of a parliamentary family, and ennobled by Louis XVIII.

How old was he? never mind about that; just say his loyalty was

untarnished, his religion enlightened,--the poor old fellow hated

churches and never set foot in one, but you had better make him out a

'pious vassal.' Bring in, gracefully, that he sang the song of Simeon

at the accession of Charles X. The Comte d'Artois thought very highly

of La Billardiere, for he co-operated in the unfortunate affair of

Quiberon and took the whole responsibility on himself. You know about

that, don't you? La Billardiere defended the King in a printed

pamphlet in reply to an impudent history of the Revolution written by

a journalist; you can allude to his loyalty and devotion. But be very

careful what you say; weigh your words, so that the other newspapers

can't laugh at us; and bring me the article when you've written it.

Were you at Rabourdin's yesterday?"

"Yes, monseigneur," said du Bruel, "Ah! beg pardon."

"No harm done," answered des Lupeaulx, laughing.

"Madame Rabourdin looked delightfully handsome," added du Bruel.

"There are not two women like her in Paris. Some are as clever as she,

but there's not one so gracefully witty. Many women may even be

handsomer, but it would be hard to find one with such variety of

beauty. Madame Rabourdin is far superior to Madame Colleville," said

the vaudevillist, remembering des Lupeaulx's former affair. "Flavie

owes what she is to the men about her, whereas Madame Rabourdin is all

things in herself. It is wonderful too what she knows; you can't tell

secrets in Latin before HER. If I had such a wife, I know I should

succeed in everything."

"You have more mind than an author ought to have," returned des

Lupeaulx, with a conceited air. Then he turned round and perceived

Dutocq. "Ah, good-morning, Dutocq," he said. "I sent for you to lend

me