THE THREE CITIES

 PARIS

 BY

 EMILE ZOLA

 TRANSLATED BY ERNEST A. VIZETELLY

 BOOK III

I

THE RIVALS

ON the Wednesday preceding the mid-Lent Thursday, a great charity bazaarwas held at the Duvillard mansion, for the benefit of the Asylum of theInvalids of Labour. The ground-floor reception rooms, three spaciousLouis Seize /salons/, whose windows overlooked the bare and solemncourtyard, were given up to the swarm of purchasers, five thousandadmission cards having been distributed among all sections of Parisiansociety. And the opening of the bombarded mansion in this wise tothousands of visitors was regarded as quite an event, a realmanifestation, although some people whispered that the RueGodot-de-Mauroy and the adjacent streets were guarded by quite an army ofpolice agents. 

The idea of the bazaar had come from Duvillard himself, and at hisbidding his wife had resigned herself to all this worry for the benefitof the enterprise over which she presided with such distinguishednonchalance. On the previous day the "Globe" newspaper, inspired by itsdirector Fonsegue, who was also the general manager of the asylum, hadpublished a very fine article, announcing the bazaar, and pointing outhow noble, and touching, and generous was the initiative of the Baroness, who still gave her time, her money, and even her home to charity, inspite of the abominable crime which had almost reduced that home toashes. Was not this the magnanimous answer of the spheres above to thehateful passions of the spheres below? And was it not also a peremptoryanswer to those who accused the capitalists of doing nothing for thewage-earners, the disabled and broken-down sons of toil?

The drawing-room doors were to be opened at two o'clock, and would onlyclose at seven, so that there would be five full hours for the sales. Andat noon, when nothing was as yet ready downstairs, when workmen and womenwere still decorating the stalls, and sorting the goods amidst a finalscramble, there was, as usual, a little friendly /dejeuner/, to which afew guests had been invited, in the private rooms on the first floor. However, a scarcely expected incident had given a finishing touch to thegeneral excitement of the house: that very morning Sagnier had resumedhis campaign of denunciation in the matter of the African Railway Lines. In a virulent article in the "Voix du Peuple, " he had inquired if it werethe intention of the authorities to beguile the public much longer withthe story of that bomb and that Anarchist whom the police did not arrest. And this time, while undertaking to publish the names of the thirty-twocorrupt senators and deputies in a very early issue, he had boldly namedMinister Barroux as one who had pocketed a sum of 200, 000 francs. Megewould therefore certainly revive his interpellation, which might becomedangerous, now that Paris had been thrown into such a distracted state byterror of the Anarchists. At the same time it was said that Vignon andhis party had resolved to turn circumstances to account, with the objectof overthrowing the ministry. Thus a redoubtable crisis was inevitably athand. Fortunately, the Chamber did not meet that Wednesday; in fact, ithad adjourned until the Friday, with the view of making mid-Lent aholiday. And so forty-eight hours were left one to prepare for theonslaught. 

Eve, that morning, seemed more gentle and languid than ever, rather paletoo, with an expression of sorrowful anxiety in the depths of herbeautiful eyes. She set it all down to the very great fatigue which thepreparations for the bazaar had entailed on her. But the truth was thatGerard de Quinsac, after shunning any further assignation, had for fivedays past avoided her in an embarrassed way. Still she was convinced thatshe would see him that morning, and so she had again ventured to wear thewhite silk gown which made her look so much younger than she really was. At the same time, beautiful as she had remained, with her delicate skin, superb figure and noble and charming countenance, her six and forty yearswere asserting themselves in her blotchy complexion and the littlecreases which were appearing about her lips, eyelids and temples. 

Camille, for her part, though her position as daughter of the house madeit certain that she would attract much custom as a saleswoman, hadobstinately persisted in wearing one of her usual dresses, a dark"carmelite" gown, an old woman's frock, as she herself called it with acutting laugh. However, her long and wicked-looking face beamed with somesecret delight; such an expression of wit and intelligence wreathing herthin lips and shining in her big eyes that one lost sight of herdeformity and thought her almost pretty. 

Eve experienced a first deception in the little blue and silversitting-room, where, accompanied by her daughter, she awaited the arrivalof her guests. General de Bozonnet, whom Gerard was to have brought withhim, came in alone, explaining that Madame de Quinsac had felt ratherpoorly that morning, and that Gerard, like a good and dutiful son, hadwished to remain with her. Still he would come to the bazaar directlyafter /dejeuner/. While the Baroness listened to the General, striving tohide her disappointment and her fear that she would now be unable toobtain any explanation from Gerard that day, Camille looked at her witheager, devouring eyes. And a certain covert instinct of the misfortunethreatening her must at that moment have come to Eve, for in her turn sheglanced at her daughter and turned pale as if with anxiety. 

Then Princess Rosemonde de Harn swept in like a whirlwind. She also wasto be one of the saleswomen at the stall chosen by the Baroness, wholiked her for her very turbulence, the sudden gaiety which she generallybrought with her. Gowned in fire-hued satin (red shot with yellow), looking very eccentric with her curly hair and thin boyish figure, shelaughed and talked of an accident by which her carriage had almost beencut in halves. Then, as Baron Duvillard and Hyacinthe came in from theirrooms, late as usual, she took possession of the young man and scoldedhim, for on the previous evening she had vainly waited for him till teno'clock in the expectation that he would keep his promise to escort herto a tavern at Montmartre, where some horrible things were said to occur. Hyacinthe, looking very bored, quietly replied that he had been detainedat a seance given by some adepts in the New Magic, in the course of whichthe soul of St. Theresa had descended from heaven to recite a lovesonnet. 

However, Fonsegue was now coming in with his wife, a tall, thin, silentand generally insignificant woman, whom he seldom took about with him. Onthis occasion he had been obliged to bring her, as she was one of thelady-patronesses of the asylum, and he himself was coming to lunch withthe Duvillards in his capacity as general manager. To the superficialobserver he looked quite as gay as usual; but he blinked nervously, andhis first glance was a questioning one in the direction of Duvillard, asif he wished to know how the latter bore the fresh thrust directed at himby Sagnier. And when he saw the banker looking perfectly composed, assuperb, as rubicund as usual, and chatting in a bantering way withRosemonde, he also put on an easy air, like a gamester who had never lostbut had always known how to compel good luck, even in hours of treachery. And by way of showing his unconstraint of mind he at once addressed theBaroness on managerial matters: "Have you now succeeded in seeing M. L'Abbe Froment for the affair of that old man Laveuve, whom he so warmlyrecommended to us? All the formalities have been gone through, you know, and he can be brought to us at once, as we have had a bed vacant forthree days past. "

"Yes, I know, " replied Eve; "but I can't imagine what has become of AbbeFroment, for he hasn't given us a sign of life for a month past. However, I made up my mind to write to him yesterday, and beg him to come to thebazaar to-day. In this manner I shall be able to acquaint him with thegood news myself. "

"It was to leave you the pleasure of doing so, " said Fonsegue, "that Irefrained from sending him any official communication. He's a charmingpriest, is he not?"

"Oh! charming, we are very fond of him. "

However, Duvillard now intervened to say that they need not wait forDuthil, as he had received a telegram from him stating that he wasdetained by sudden business. At this Fonsegue's anxiety returned, and heonce more questioned the Baron with his eyes. Duvillard smiled, however, and reassured him in an undertone: "It's nothing serious. Merely acommission for me, about which he'll only be able to bring me an answerby-and-by. " Then, taking Fonsegue on one side, he added: "By the way, don't forget to insert the paragraph I told you of. "

"What paragraph? Oh! yes, the one about that /soiree/ at which Silvianerecited a piece of verse. Well, I wanted to speak to you about it. Itworries me a little, on account of the excessive praise it contains. "

Duvillard, but a moment before so full of serenity, with his lofty, conquering, disdainful mien, now suddenly became pale and agitated. "ButI absolutely want it to be inserted, my dear fellow! You would place mein the greatest embarrassment if it were not to appear, for I promisedSilviane that it should. "

As he spoke his lips trembled, and a scared look came into his eyes, plainly revealing his dismay. 

"All right, all right, " said Fonsegue, secretly amused, and well pleasedat this complicity. "As it's so serious the paragraph shall go in, Ipromise you. "

The whole company was now present, since neither Gerard nor Duthil was tobe expected. So they went into the dining-room amidst a final noise ofhammering in the sale-rooms below. The meal proved somewhat of ascramble, and was on three occasions disturbed by female attendants, whocame to explain difficulties and ask for orders. Doors were constantlyslamming, and the very walls seemed to shake with the unusual bustlewhich filled the house. And feverish as they all were in the dining-room, they talked in desultory, haphazard fashion on all sorts of subjects, passing from a ball given at the Ministry of the Interior on the previousnight, to the popular mid-Lent festival which would take place on themorrow, and ever reverting to the bazaar, the prices that had been givenfor the goods which would be on sale, the prices at which they might besold, and the probable figure of the full receipts, all this beinginterspersed with strange anecdotes, witticisms and bursts of laughter. On the General mentioning magistrate Amadieu, Eve declared that she nolonger dared to invite him to /dejeuner/, knowing how busy he was at thePalace of Justice. Still, she certainly hoped that he would come to thebazaar and contribute something. Then Fonsegue amused himself withteasing Princess Rosemonde about her fire-hued gown, in which, said he, she must already feel roasted by the flames of hell; a suggestion whichsecretly delighted her, as Satanism had now become her momentary passion. Meantime, Duvillard lavished the most gallant politeness on that silentcreature, Madame Fonsegue, while Hyacinthe, in order to astonish even thePrincess, explained in a few words how the New Magic could transform achaste young man into a real angel. And Camille, who seemed very happyand very excited, from time to time darted a hot glance at her mother, whose anxiety and sadness increased as she found the other more and moreaggressive, and apparently resolved upon open and merciless warfare. 

At last, just as the dessert was coming to an end, the Baroness heard herdaughter exclaim in a piercing, defiant voice: "Oh! don't talk to me ofthe old ladies who still seem to be playing with dolls, and paintthemselves, and dress as if they were about to be confirmed! All suchogresses ought to retire from the scene! I hold them in horror!"

At this, Eve nervously rose from her seat, and exclaimed apologetically:"You must forgive me for hurrying you like this. But I'm afraid that weshan't have time to drink our coffee in peace. "

The coffee was served in the little blue and silver sitting-room, wherebloomed some lovely yellow roses, testifying to the Baroness's keenpassion for flowers, which made the house an abode of perpetual spring. Duvillard and Fonsegue, however, carrying their cups of steaming coffeewith them, at once went into the former's private room to smoke a cigarthere and chat in freedom. As the door remained wide open, one couldhear their gruff voices more or less distinctly. Meantime, General deBozonnet, delighted to find in Madame Fonsegue a serious, submissiveperson, who listened without interrupting, began to tell her a very longstory of an officer's wife who had followed her husband through everybattle of the war of 1870. Then Hyacinthe, who took no coffee--contemptuously declaring it to be a beverage only fit for door-keepers--managed to rid himself of Rosemonde, who was sipping some kummel, inorder to come and whisper to his sister: "I say, it was very stupid ofyou to taunt mamma in the way you did just now. I don't care a rap aboutit myself. But it ends by being noticed, and, I warn you candidly, itshows ill breeding. "

Camille gazed at him fixedly with her black eyes. "Pray don't /you/meddle with my affairs, " said she. 

At this he felt frightened, scented a storm, and decided to takeRosemonde into the adjoining red drawing-room in order to show her apicture which his father had just purchased. And the General, on beingcalled by him, likewise conducted Madame Fonsegue thither. 

The mother and daughter then suddenly found themselves alone and face toface. Eve was leaning on a pier-table, as if overcome; and indeed, theleast sorrow bore her down, so weak at heart she was, ever ready to weepin her naive and perfect egotism. Why was it that her daughter thus hatedher, and did her utmost to disturb that last happy spell of love in whichher heart lingered? She looked at Camille, grieved rather than irritated;and the unfortunate idea came to her of making a remark about her dressat the very moment when the girl was on the point of following the othersinto the larger drawing-room. 

"It's quite wrong of you, my dear, " said she, "to persist in dressinglike an old woman. It doesn't improve you a bit. "

As Eve spoke, her soft eyes, those of a courted and worshipped handsomewoman, clearly expressed the compassion she felt for that ugly, deformedgirl, whom she had never been able to regard as a daughter. Was itpossible that she, with her sovereign beauty, that beauty which sheherself had ever adored and nursed, making it her one care, her onereligion--was it possible that she had given birth to such a gracelesscreature, with a dark, goatish profile, one shoulder higher than theother, and a pair of endless arms such as hunchbacks often have? All hergrief and all her shame at having had such a child became apparent in thequivering of her voice. 

Camille, however, had stopped short, as if struck in the face with awhip. Then she came back to her mother and the horrible explanation beganwith these simple words spoken in an undertone: "You consider that Idress badly? Well, you ought to have paid some attention to me, have seenthat my gowns suited your taste, and have taught me your secret oflooking beautiful!"

Eve, with her dislike of all painful feeling, all quarrelling and bitterwords, was already regretting her attack. So she sought to make aretreat, particularly as time was flying and they would soon be expecteddownstairs: "Come, be quiet, and don't show your bad temper when allthose people can hear us. I have loved you--"

But with a quiet yet terrible laugh Camille interrupted her. "You'veloved me! Oh! my poor mamma, what a comical thing to say! Have you everloved /anybody/? You want others to love /you/, but that's anothermatter. As for your child, any child, do you even know how it ought to beloved? You have always neglected me, thrust me on one side, deeming me sougly, so unworthy of you! And besides, you have not had days and nightsenough to love yourself! Oh! don't deny it, my poor mamma; but even nowyou're looking at me as if I were some loathsome monster that's in yourway. "

From that moment the abominable scene was bound to continue to the end. With their teeth set, their faces close together, the two women went onspeaking in feverish whispers. 

"Be quiet, Camille, I tell you! I will not allow such language!"

"But I won't be quiet when you do all you can to wound me. If it's wrongof me to dress like an old woman, perhaps another is rather ridiculous indressing like a girl, like a bride. "

"Like a bride? I don't understand you. "

"Oh! yes, you do. However, I would have you know that everybody doesn'tfind me so ugly as you try to make them believe. "

"If you look amiss, it is because you don't dress properly; that is all Isaid. "

"I dress as I please, and no doubt I do so well enough, since I'm lovedas I am. "

"What, really! Does someone love you? Well, let him inform us of it andmarry you. "

"Yes--certainly, certainly! It will be a good riddance, won't it? Andyou'll have the pleasure of seeing me as a bride!"

Their voices were rising in spite of their efforts to restrain them. However, Camille paused and drew breath before hissing out the words:"Gerard is coming here to ask for my hand in a day or two. "

Eve, livid, with wildly staring eyes, did not seem to understand. "Gerard? why do you tell me that?"

"Why, because it's Gerard who loves me and who is going to marry me! Youdrive me to extremities; you're for ever repeating that I'm ugly; youtreat me like a monster whom nobody will ever care for. So I'm forced todefend myself and tell you the truth in order to prove to you thateverybody is not of your opinion. "

Silence fell; the frightful thing which had risen between them seemed tohave arrested the quarrel. But there was neither mother nor daughter leftthere. They were simply two suffering, defiant rivals. Eve in her turndrew a long breath and glanced anxiously towards the adjoining room toascertain if anyone were coming in or listening to them. And then in atone of resolution she made answer:

"You cannot marry Gerard. "

"Pray, why not?"

"Because I won't have it; because it's impossible. "

"That isn't a reason; give me a reason. "

"The reason is that the marriage is impossible that is all. "

"No, no, I'll tell you the reason since you force me to it. The reason isthat Gerard is your lover! But what does that matter, since I know it andam willing to take him all the same?"

And to this retort Camille's flaming eyes added the words: "And it isparticularly on that account that I want him. " All the long torture bornof her infirmities, all her rage at having always seen her motherbeautiful, courted and adored, was now stirring her and seeking vengeancein cruel triumph. At last then she was snatching from her rival the loverof whom she had so long been jealous!

"You wretched girl!" stammered Eve, wounded in the heart and almostsinking to the floor. "You don't know what you say or what you make mesuffer. "

However, she again had to pause, draw herself erect and smile; forRosemonde hastened in from the adjoining room with the news that she waswanted downstairs. The doors were about to be opened, and it wasnecessary she should be at her stall. Yes, Eve answered, she would bedown in another moment. Still, even as she spoke she leant more heavilyon the pier-table behind her in order that she might not fall. 

Hyacinthe had drawn near to his sister: "You know, " said he, "it's simplyidiotic to quarrel like that. You would do much better to comedownstairs. "

But Camille harshly dismissed him: "Just /you/ go off, and take theothers with you. It's quite as well that they shouldn't be about ourears. "

Hyacinthe glanced at his mother, like one who knew the truth andconsidered the whole affair ridiculous. And then, vexed at seeing her sodeficient in energy in dealing with that little pest, his sister, heshrugged his shoulders, and leaving them to their folly, conducted theothers away. One could hear Rosemonde laughing as she went off below, while the General began to tell Madame Fonsegue another story as theydescended the stairs together. However, at the moment when the mother anddaughter at last fancied themselves alone once more, other voices reachedtheir ears, those of Duvillard and Fonsegue, who were still near at hand. The Baron from his room might well overhear the dispute. 

Eve felt that she ought to have gone off. But she had lacked the strengthto do so; it had been a sheer impossibility for her after those wordswhich had smote her like a buffet amidst her distress at the thought oflosing her lover. 

"Gerard cannot marry you, " she said; "he does not love you. "

"He does. "

"You fancy it because he has good-naturedly shown some kindness to you, on seeing others pay you such little attention. But he does not loveyou. "

"He does. He loves me first because I'm not such a fool as many othersare, and particularly because I'm young. "

This was a fresh wound for the Baroness; one inflicted with mockingcruelty in which rang out all the daughter's triumphant delight at seeingher mother's beauty at last ripening and waning. "Ah! my poor mamma, youno longer know what it is to be young. If I'm not beautiful, at allevents I'm young; my eyes are clear and my lips are fresh. And my hair'sso long too, and I've so much of it that it would suffice to gown me if Ichose. You see, one's never ugly when one's young. Whereas, my poormamma, everything is ended when one gets old. It's all very well for awoman to have been beautiful, and to strive to keep so, but in realitythere's only ruin left, and shame and disgust. "

She spoke these words in such a sharp, ferocious voice that each of thementered her mother's heart like a knife. Tears rose to the eyes of thewretched woman, again stricken in her bleeding wound. Ah! it was true, she remained without weapons against youth. And all her anguish came fromthe consciousness that she was growing old, from the feeling that lovewas departing from her now, that like a fruit she had ripened and fallenfrom the tree. 

"But Gerard's mother will never let him marry you, " she said. 

"He will prevail on her; that's his concern. I've a dowry of twomillions, and two millions can settle many things. "

"Do you now want to libel him, and say that he's marrying you for yourmoney?"

"No, indeed! Gerard's a very nice and honest fellow. He loves me and he'smarrying me for myself. But, after all, he isn't rich; he still has noassured position, although he's thirty-six; and there may well be someadvantage in a wife who brings you wealth as well as happiness. For, youhear, mamma, it's happiness I'm bringing him, real happiness, love that'sshared and is certain of the future. "

Once again their faces drew close together. The hateful scene, interrupted by sounds around them, postponed, and then resumed, wasdragging on, becoming a perfect drama full of murderous violence, although they never shouted, but still spoke on in low and gaspingvoices. Neither gave way to the other, though at every moment they wereliable to some surprise; for not only were all the doors open, so thatthe servants might come in, but the Baron's voice still rang out gaily, close at hand. 

"He loves you, he loves you"--continued Eve. "That's what you say. But/he/ never told you so. "

"He has told me so twenty times; he repeats it every time that we arealone together!"

"Yes, just as one says it to a little girl by way of amusing her. But hehas never told you that he meant to marry you. "

"He told it me the last time he came. And it's settled. I'm simplywaiting for him to get his mother's consent and make his formal offer. "

"You lie, you lie, you wretched girl! You simply want to make me suffer, and you lie, you lie!"

Eve's grief at last burst forth in that cry of protest. She no longerknew that she was a mother, and was speaking to her daughter. The woman, the /amorosa/, alone remained in her, outraged and exasperated by arival. And with a sob she confessed the truth: "It is I he loves! Onlythe last time I spoke to him, he swore to me--you hear me?--he swore uponhis honour that he did not love you, and that he would never marry you!"

A faint, sharp laugh came from Camille. Then, with an air of derisivecompassion, she replied: "Ah! my poor mamma, you really make me sorry foryou! What a child you are! Yes, really, you are the child, not I. What!you who ought to have so much experience, you still allow yourself to beduped by a man's protests! That one really has no malice; and, indeed, that's why he swears whatever you want him to swear, just to please andquiet you, for at heart he's a bit of a coward. "

"You lie, you lie!"

"But just think matters over. If he no longer comes here, if he didn'tcome to /dejeuner/ this morning, it is simply because he's had enough ofyou. He has left you for good; just have the courage to realise it. Ofcourse he's still polite and amiable, because he's a well-bred man, anddoesn't know how to break off. The fact is that he takes pity on you. "

"You lie, you lie!"

"Well, question him then. Have a frank explanation with him. Ask him hisintentions in a friendly way. And then show some good nature yourself, and realise that if you care for him you ought to give him me at once inhis own interest. Give him back his liberty, and you will soon see thatI'm the one he loves. "

"You lie, you lie! You wretched child, you only want to torture and killme!"

Then, in her fury and distress, Eve remembered that she was the mother, and that it was for her to chastise that unworthy daughter. There was nostick near her, but from a basket of the yellow roses, whose powerfulscent intoxicated both of them, she plucked a handful of blooms, withlong and spiny stalks, and smote Camille across the face. A drop of bloodappeared on the girl's left temple, near her eyelid. 

But she sprang forward, flushed and maddened by this correction, with herhand raised and ready to strike back. "Take care, mother! I swear I'dbeat you like a gipsy! And now just put this into your head: I mean tomarry Gerard, and I will; and I'll take him from you, even if I have toraise a scandal, should you refuse to give him to me with good grace. "

Eve, after her one act of angry vigour, had sunk into an armchair, overcome, distracted. And all the horror of quarrels, which sprang fromher egotistical desire to be happy, caressed, flattered and adored, wasreturning to her. But Camille, still threatening, still unsatiated, showed her heart as it really was, her stern, black, unforgiving heart, intoxicated with cruelty. There came a moment of supreme silence, whileDuvillard's gay voice again rang out in the adjoining room. 

The mother was gently weeping, when Hyacinthe, coming upstairs at a run, swept into the little /salon/. He looked at the two women, and made agesture of indulgent contempt. "Ah! you're no doubt satisfied now! Butwhat did I tell you? It would have been much better for you to have comedownstairs at once! Everybody is asking for you. It's all idiotic. I'vecome to fetch you. "

Eve and Camille would not yet have followed him, perhaps, if Duvillardand Fonsegue had not at that moment come out of the former's room. Havingfinished their cigars they also spoke of going downstairs. And Eve had torise and smile and show dry eyes, while Camille, standing before alooking-glass, arranged her hair, and stanched the little drop of bloodthat had gathered on her temple. 

There was already quite a number of people below, in the three hugesaloons adorned with tapestry and plants. The stalls had been draped withred silk, which set a gay, bright glow around the goods. And no ordinarybazaar could have put forth such a show, for there was something ofeverything among the articles of a thousand different kinds, fromsketches by recognised masters, and the autographs of famous writers, down to socks and slippers and combs. The haphazard way in which thingswere laid out was in itself an attraction; and, in addition, there was abuffet, where the whitest of beautiful hands poured out champagne, andtwo lotteries, one for an organ and another for a pony-drawn villagecart, the tickets for which were sold by a bevy of charming girls, whohad scattered through the throng. As Duvillard had expected, however, thegreat success of the bazaar lay in the delightful little shiver which thebeautiful ladies experienced as they passed through the entrance wherethe bomb had exploded. The rougher repairing work was finished, the wallsand ceilings had been doctored, in part re-constructed. However, thepainters had not yet come, and here and there the whiter stone andplaster work showed like fresh scars left by all the terrible gashes. Itwas with mingled anxiety and rapture that pretty heads emerged from thecarriages which, arriving in a continuous stream, made the flagstones ofthe court re-echo. And in the three saloons, beside the stalls, there wasno end to the lively chatter: "Ah! my dear, did you see all those marks?How frightful, how frightful! The whole house was almost blown up. And tothink it might begin again while we are here! One really needs somecourage to come, but then, that asylum is such a deserving institution, and money is badly wanted to build a new wing. And besides, thosemonsters will see that we are not frightened, whatever they do. "

When the Baroness at last came down to her stall with Camille she foundthe saleswomen feverishly at work already under the direction of PrincessRosemonde, who on occasions of this kind evinced the greatest cunning andrapacity, robbing the customers in the most impudent fashion. "Ah! hereyou are, " she exclaimed. "Beware of a number of higglers who have come tosecure bargains. I know them! They watch for their opportunities, turneverything topsy-turvy and wait for us to lose our heads and forgetprices, so as to pay even less than they would in a real shop. But I'llget good prices from them, you shall see!"

At this, Eve, who for her own part was a most incapable saleswoman, hadto laugh with the others. And in a gentle voice she made a pretence ofaddressing certain recommendations to Camille, who listened with asmiling and most submissive air. In point of fact the wretched mother wassinking with emotion, particularly at the thought that she would have toremain there till seven o'clock, and suffer in secret before all thosepeople, without possibility of relief. And thus it was almost like arespite when she suddenly perceived Abbe Froment sitting and waiting forher on a settee, covered with red velvet, near her stall. Her legs werefailing her, so she took a place beside him. 

"You received my letter then, Monsieur l'Abbe. I am glad that you havecome, for I have some good news to give you, and wished to leave you thepleasure of imparting it to your /protege/, that man Laveuve, whom you sowarmly recommended to me. Every formality has now been fulfilled, and youcan bring him to the asylum to-morrow. "

Pierre gazed at her in stupefaction. "Laveuve? Why, he is dead!"

In her turn she became astonished. "What, dead! But you never informed meof it! If I told you of all the trouble that has been taken, of all thathad to be undone and done again, and the discussions and the papers andthe writing! Are you quite sure that he is dead?"

"Oh! yes, he is dead. He has been dead a month. "

"Dead a month! Well, we could not know; you yourself gave us no sign oflife. Ah! /mon Dieu/! what a worry that he should be dead. We shall nowbe obliged to undo everything again!"

"He is dead, madame. It is true that I ought to have informed you of it. But that doesn't alter the fact--he is dead. "

Dead! that word which kept on returning, the thought too, that for amonth past she had been busying herself for a corpse, quite froze her, brought her to the very depths of despair, like an omen of the cold deathinto which she herself must soon descend, in the shroud of her lastpassion. And, meantime, Pierre, despite himself, smiled bitterly at theatrocious irony of it all. Ah! that lame and halting Charity, whichproffers help when men are dead!

The priest still lingered on the settee when the Baroness rose. She hadseen magistrate Amadieu hurriedly enter like one who just wished to showhimself, purchase some trifle, and then return to the Palace of Justice. However, he was also perceived by little Massot, the "Globe" reporter, who was prowling round the stalls, and who at once bore down upon him, eager for information. And he hemmed him in and forthwith interviewed himrespecting the affair of that mechanician Salvat, who was accused ofhaving deposited the bomb at the entrance of the house. Was this simplyan invention of the police, as some newspapers pretended? Or was itreally correct? And if so, would Salvat soon be arrested? In self-defenceAmadieu answered correctly enough that the affair did not as yet concernhim, and would only come within his attributions, if Salvat should bearrested and the investigation placed in his hands. At the same time, however, the magistrate's pompous and affectedly shrewd manner suggestedthat he already knew everything to the smallest details, and that, had hechosen, he could have promised some great events for the morrow. A circleof ladies had gathered round him as he spoke, quite a number of prettywomen feverish with curiosity, who jostled one another in their eagernessto hear that brigand tale which sent a little shiver coursing under theirskins. However, Amadieu managed to slip off after paying Rosemonde twentyfrancs for a cigarette case, which was perhaps worth thirty sous. 

Massot, on recognising Pierre, came up to shake hands with him. "Don'tyou agree with me, Monsieur l'Abbe, that Salvat must be a long way off bynow if he's got good legs? Ah! the police will always make me laugh!"

However, Rosemonde brought Hyacinthe up to the journalist. "MonsieurMassot, " said she, "you who go everywhere, I want you to be judge. ThatChamber of Horrors at Montmartre, that tavern where Legras sings the'Flowers of the Streets'--"

"Oh! a delightful spot, madame, " interrupted Massot, "I wouldn't takeeven a gendarme there. "

"No, don't jest, Monsieur Massot, I'm talking seriously. Isn't it quiteallowable for a respectable woman to go there when she's accompanied by agentleman?" And, without allowing the journalist time to answer her, sheturned towards Hyacinthe: "There! you see that Monsieur Massot doesn'tsay no! You've got to take me there this evening, it's sworn, it'ssworn. "

Then she darted away to sell a packet of pins to an old lady, while theyoung man contented himself with remarking, in the voice of one who hasno illusions left: "She's quite idiotic with her Chamber of Horrors!"

Massot philosophically shrugged his shoulders. It was only natural that awoman should want to amuse herself. And when Hyacinthe had gone off, passing with perverse contempt beside the lovely girls who were sellinglottery tickets, the journalist ventured to murmur: "All the same, itwould do that youngster good if a woman were to take him in hand. "

Then, again addressing Pierre, he resumed: "Why, here comes Duthil! Whatdid Sagnier mean this morning by saying that Duthil would sleep at Mazasto-night?"

In a great hurry apparently, and all smiles, Duthil was cutting his waythrough the crowd in order to join Duvillard and Fonsegue, who stillstood talking near the Baroness's stall. And he waved his hand to them ina victorious way, to imply that he had succeeded in the delicate missionentrusted to him. This was nothing less than a bold manoeuvre to hastenSilviane's admission to the Comedie Francaise. The idea had occurred toher of making the Baron give a dinner at the Cafe Anglais in order thatshe might meet at it an influential critic, who, according to herstatements, would compel the authorities to throw the doors wide open forher as soon as he should know her. However, it did not seem easy tosecure the critic's presence, as he was noted for his sternness andgrumbling disposition. And, indeed, after a first repulse, Duthil had forthree days past been obliged to exert all his powers of diplomacy, andbring even the remotest influence into play. But he was radiant now, forhe had conquered. 

"It's for this evening, my dear Baron, at half-past seven, " he exclaimed. "Ah! dash it all, I've had more trouble than I should have had to securea concession vote!" Then he laughed with the pretty impudence of a man ofpleasure, whom political conscientiousness did not trouble. And, indeed, his allusion to the fresh denunciations of the "Voix du Peuple" hugelyamused him. 

"Don't jest, " muttered Fonsegue, who for his part wished to amuse himselfby frightening the young deputy. "Things are going very badly!"

Duthil turned pale, and a vision of the police and Mazas rose before hiseyes. In this wise sheer funk came over him from time to time. However, with his lack of all moral sense, he soon felt reassured and began tolaugh. "Bah!" he retorted gaily, winking towards Duvillard, "thegovernor's there to pilot the barque!"

The Baron, who was extremely pleased, had pressed his hands, thanked him, and called him an obliging fellow. And now turning towards Fonsegue, heexclaimed: "I say, you must make one of us this evening. Oh! it'snecessary. I want something imposing round Silviane. Duthil willrepresent the Chamber, you journalism, and I finance--" But he suddenlypaused on seeing Gerard, who, with a somewhat grave expression, wasleisurely picking his way through the sea of skirts. "Gerard, my friend, "said the Baron, after beckoning to him, "I want you to do me a service. "And forthwith he told him what was in question; how the influentialcritic had been prevailed upon to attend a dinner which would decideSilviane's future; and how it was the duty of all her friends to rallyround her. 

"But I can't, " the young man answered in embarrassment. "I have to dineat home with my mother, who was rather poorly this morning. "

"Oh! a sensible woman like your mother will readily understand that thereare matters of exceptional importance. Go home and excuse yourself. Tellher some story, tell her that a friend's happiness is in question. " Andas Gerard began to weaken, Duvillard added: "The fact is, that I reallywant you, my dear fellow; I must have a society man. Society, you know, is a great force in theatrical matters; and if Silviane has society withher, her triumph is certain. "

Gerard promised, and then chatted for a moment with his uncle, General deBozonnet, who was quite enlivened by that throng of women, among whom hehad been carried hither and thither like an old rudderless ship. Afteracknowledging the amiability with which Madame Fonsegue had listened tohis stories, by purchasing an autograph of Monseigneur Martha from herfor a hundred francs, he had quite lost himself amid the bevy of girlswho had passed him on, one to another. And now, on his return from them, he had his hands full of lottery tickets: "Ah! my fine fellow, " said he, "I don't advise you to venture among all those young persons. You wouldhave to part with your last copper. But, just look! there's MademoiselleCamille beckoning to you!"

Camille, indeed, from the moment she had perceived Gerard, had beensmiling at him and awaiting his approach. And when their glances met hewas obliged to go to her, although, at the same moment, he felt thatEve's despairing and entreating eyes were fixed upon him. The girl, whofully realised that her mother was watching her, at once made a markeddisplay of amiability, profiting by the license which charitable fervourauthorised, to slip a variety of little articles into the young man'spockets, and then place others in his hands, which she pressed within herown, showing the while all the sparkle of youth, indulging in fresh, merry laughter, which fairly tortured her rival. 

So extreme was Eve's suffering, that she wished to intervene and partthem. But it so chanced that Pierre barred her way, for he wished tosubmit an idea to her before leaving the bazaar. "Madame, " said he, "since that man Laveuve is dead, and you have taken so much trouble withregard to the bed which you now have vacant, will you be so good as tokeep it vacant until I have seen our venerable friend, Abbe Rose? I am tosee him this evening, and he knows so many cases of want, and would be soglad to relieve one of them, and bring you some poor /protege/ of his. "

"Yes, certainly, " stammered the Baroness, "I shall be very happy, --I willwait a little, as you desire, --of course, of course, Monsieur l'Abbe. "

She was trembling all over; she no longer knew what she was saying; and, unable to conquer her passion, she turned aside from the priest, unawareeven that he was still there, when Gerard, yielding to the dolorousentreaty of her eyes, at last managed to escape from Camille and joinher. 

"What a stranger you are becoming, my friend!" she said aloud, with aforced smile. "One never sees you now. "

"Why, I have been poorly, " he replied, in his amiable way. "Yes, I assureyou I have been ailing a little. "

He, ailing! She looked at him with maternal anxiety, quite upset. And, indeed, however proud and lofty his figure, his handsome regular face didseem to her paler than usual. It was as if the nobility of the facadehad, in some degree, ceased to hide the irreparable dilapidation within. And given his real good nature, it must be true that hesuffered--suffered by reason of his useless, wasted life, by reason ofall the money he cost his impoverished mother, and of the needs that wereat last driving him to marry that wealthy deformed girl, whom at first hehad simply pitied. And so weak did he seem to Eve, so like a piece ofwreckage tossed hither and thither by a tempest, that, at the risk ofbeing overheard by the throng, she let her heart flow forth in a low butardent, entreating murmur: "If you suffer, ah! what sufferings aremine!--Gerard, we must see one another, I will have it so. "

"No, I beg you, let us wait, " he stammered in embarrassment. 

"It must be, Gerard; Camille has told me your plans. You cannot refuse tosee me. I insist on it. "

He made yet another attempt to escape the cruel explanation. "But it'simpossible at the usual place, " he answered, quivering. "The address isknown. "

"Then to-morrow, at four o'clock, at that little restaurant in the Boiswhere we have met before. "

He had to promise, and they parted. Camille had just turned her head andwas looking at them. Moreover, quite a number of women had besieged thestall; and the Baroness began to attend to them with the air of a ripeand nonchalant goddess, while Gerard rejoined Duvillard, Fonsegue andDuthil, who were quite excited at the prospect of their dinner thatevening. 

Pierre had heard a part of the conversation between Gerard and theBaroness. He knew what skeletons the house concealed, what physiologicaland moral torture and wretchedness lay beneath all the dazzling wealthand power. There was here an envenomed, bleeding sore, ever spreading, acancer eating into father, mother, daughter and son, who one and all hadthrown social bonds aside. However, the priest made his way out of the/salons/, half stifling amidst the throng of lady-purchasers who weremaking quite a triumph of the bazaar. And yonder, in the depths of thegloom, he could picture Salvat still running and running on; while thecorpse of Laveuve seemed to him like a buffet of atrocious irony dealt tonoisy and delusive charity. 

II

SPIRIT AND FLESH

How delightful was the quietude of the little ground-floor overlooking astrip of garden in the Rue Cortot, where good Abbe Rose resided!Hereabouts there was not even a rumble of wheels, or an echo of thepanting breath of Paris, which one heard on the other side of the heightof Montmartre. The deep silence and sleepy peacefulness were suggestiveof some distant provincial town. 

Seven o'clock had struck, the dusk had gathered slowly, and Pierre was inthe humble dining-room, waiting for the /femme-de-menage/ to place thesoup upon the table. Abbe Rose, anxious at having seen so little of himfor a month past, had written, asking him to come to dinner, in orderthat they might have a quiet chat concerning their affairs. From time totime Pierre still gave his friend money for charitable purposes; in fact, ever since the days of the asylum in the Rue de Charonne, they had hadaccounts together, which they periodically liquidated. So that eveningafter dinner they were to talk of it all, and see if they could not doeven more than they had hitherto done. The good old priest was quiteradiant at the thought of the peaceful evening which he was about tospend in attending to the affairs of his beloved poor; for therein layhis only amusement, the sole pleasure to which he persistently andpassionately returned, in spite of all the worries that his inconsideratecharity had already so often brought him. 

Glad to be able to procure his friend this pleasure, Pierre, on his side, grew calmer, and found relief and momentary repose in sharing the other'ssimple repast and yielding to all the kindliness around him, far from hisusual worries. He remembered the vacant bed at the Asylum, which BaronessDuvillard had promised to keep in reserve until he should have asked AbbeRose if he knew of any case of destitution particularly worthy ofinterest; and so before sitting down to table he spoke of the matter. 

"Destitution worthy of interest!" replied Abbe Rose, "ah! my dear child, every case is worthy of interest. And when it's a question of old toilerswithout work the only trouble is that of selection, the anguish ofchoosing one and leaving so many others in distress. " Nevertheless, painful though his scruples were, he strove to think and come to somedecision. "I know the case which will suit you, " he said at last. "It'scertainly one of the greatest suffering and wretchedness; and, so humblea one, too--an old carpenter of seventy-five, who has been living onpublic charity during the eight or ten years that he has been unable tofind work. I don't know his name, everybody calls him 'the big Old'un. 'There are times when he does not come to my Saturday distributions forweeks together. We shall have to look for him at once. I think that hesleeps at the Night Refuge in the Rue d'Orsel when lack of room theredoesn't force him to spend the night crouching behind some palings. Shallwe go down the Rue d'Orsel this evening?"

Abbe Rose's eyes beamed brightly as he spoke, for this proposal of hissignified a great debauch, the tasting of forbidden fruit. He had beenreproached so often and so roughly with his visits to those who hadfallen to the deepest want and misery, that in spite of his overflowing, apostolic compassion, he now scarcely dared to go near them. However, hecontinued: "Is it agreed, my child? Only this once? Besides, it is ouronly means of finding the big Old'un. You won't have to stop with melater than eleven. And I should so like to show you all that! You willsee what terrible sufferings there are! And perhaps we may be fortunateenough to relieve some poor creature or other. "

Pierre smiled at the juvenile ardour displayed by this old man with snowyhair. "It's agreed, my dear Abbe, " he responded, "I shall be very pleasedto spend my whole evening with you, for I feel it will do me good tofollow you once more on one of those rambles which used to fill ourhearts with grief and joy. "

At this moment the servant brought in the soup; however, just as the twopriests were taking their seats a discreet ring was heard, and when AbbeRose learnt that the visitor was a neighbour, Madame Mathis, who had comefor an answer, he gave orders that she should be shown in. 

"This poor woman, " he explained to Pierre, "needed an advance of tenfrancs to get a mattress out of pawn; and I didn't have the money by meat the time. But I've since procured it. She lives in the house, youknow, in silent poverty, on so small an income that it hardly keeps herin bread. "

"But hasn't she a big son of twenty?" asked Pierre, suddenly rememberingthe young man he had seen at Salvat's. 

"Yes, yes. Her parents, I believe, were rich people in the provinces. I've been told that she married a music master, who gave her lessons, atNantes; and who ran away with her and brought her to Paris, where hedied. It was quite a doleful love-story. By selling the furniture andrealising every little thing she possessed, she scraped together anincome of about two thousand francs a year, with which she was able tosend her son to college and live decently herself. But a fresh blow fellon her: she lost the greater part of her little fortune, which wasinvested in doubtful securities. So now her income amounts at the utmostto eight hundred francs; two hundred of which she has to expend in rent. For all her other wants she has to be content with fifty francs a month. About eighteen months ago her son left her so as not to be a burden onher, and he is trying to earn his living somewhere, but without success, I believe. "

Madame Mathis, a short, dark woman, with a sad, gentle, retiring face, came in. Invariably clad in the same black gown, she showed all theanxious timidity of a poor creature whom the storms of life perpetuallyassailed. When Abbe Rose had handed her the ten francs discreetly wrappedin paper, she blushed and thanked him, promising to pay him back as soonas she received her month's money, for she was not a beggar and did notwish to encroach on the share of those who starved. 

"And your son, Victor, has he found any employment?" asked the oldpriest. 

She hesitated, ignorant as she was of what her son might be doing, fornow she did not see him for weeks together. And finally, she contentedherself with answering: "He has a good heart, he is very fond of me. Itis a great misfortune that we should have been ruined before he couldenter the Ecole Normale. It was impossible for him to prepare for theexamination. But at the Lycee he was such a diligent and intelligentpupil!"

"You lost your husband when your son was ten years old, did you not?"said Abbe Rose. 

At this she blushed again, thinking that her husband's story was known tothe two priests. "Yes, my poor husband never had any luck, " she said. "His difficulties embittered and excited his mind, and he died in prison. He was sent there through a disturbance at a public meeting, when he hadthe misfortune to wound a police officer. He had also fought at the timeof the Commune. And yet he was a very gentle man and extremely fond ofme. "

Tears had risen to her eyes; and Abbe Rose, much touched, dismissed her:"Well, let us hope that your son will give you satisfaction, and be ableto repay you for all you have done for him. "

With a gesture of infinite sorrow, Madame Mathis discreetly withdrew. Shewas quite ignorant of her son's doings, but fate had pursued her sorelentlessly that she ever trembled. 

"I don't think that the poor woman has much to expect from her son, " saidPierre, when she had gone. "I only saw him once, but the gleam in hiseyes was as harsh and trenchant as that of a knife. "

"Do you think so?" the old priest exclaimed, with his kindly /naivete/. "Well, he seemed to me very polite, perhaps a trifle eager to enjoy life;but then, all the young folks are impatient nowadays. Come, let us sitdown to table, for the soup will be cold. "

Almost at the same hour, on the other side of Paris, night had in likefashion slowly fallen in the drawing-room of the Countess de Quinsac, onthe dismal, silent ground-floor of an old mansion in the Rue St. Dominique. The Countess was there, alone with her faithful friend, theMarquis de Morigny, she on one side, and he on the other side of thechimney-piece, where the last embers of the wood fire were dying out. Theservant had not yet brought the lamp, and the Countess refrained fromringing, finding some relief from her anxiety in the falling darkness, which hid from view all the unconfessed thoughts that she was afraid ofshowing on her weary face. And it was only now, before that dim hearth, and in that black room, where never a sound of wheels disturbed thesilence of the slumberous past, that she dared to speak. 

"Yes, my friend, " she said, "I am not satisfied with Gerard's health. Youwill see him yourself, for he promised to come home early and dine withme. Oh! I'm well aware that he looks big and strong; but to know himproperly one must have nursed and watched him as I have done! Whattrouble I had to rear him! In reality he is at the mercy of any pettyailment. His slightest complaint becomes serious illness. And the life heleads does not conduce to good health. "

She paused and sighed, hesitating to carry her confession further. 

"He leads the life he can, " slowly responded the Marquis de Morigny, ofwhose delicate profile, and lofty yet loving bearing, little could beseen in the gloom. "As he was unable to endure military life, and as eventhe fatigues of diplomacy frighten you, what would you have him do? Hecan only live apart pending the final collapse, while this abominableRepublic is dragging France to the grave. "

"No doubt, my friend. And yet it is just that idle life which frightensme. He is losing in it all that was good and healthy in him. I don'trefer merely to the /liaisons/ which we have had to tolerate. The lastone, which I found so much difficulty in countenancing at the outset, socontrary did it seem to all my ideas and beliefs, has since seemed to meto exercise almost a good influence. Only he is now entering histhirty-sixth year, and can he continue living in this fashion withoutobject or duties? If he is ailing it is perhaps precisely because he doesnothing, holds no position, and serves no purpose. " Her voice againquavered. "And then, my friend, since you force me to tell youeverything, I must own that I am not in good health myself. I have hadseveral fainting fits of late, and have consulted a doctor. The truth is, that I may go off at any moment. "

With a quiver, Morigny leant forward in the still deepening gloom, andwished to take hold of her hands. "You! what, am I to lose you, my lastaffection!" he faltered, "I who have seen the old world I belong tocrumble away, I who only live in the hope that you at all events willstill be here to close my eyes!"

But she begged him not to increase her grief: "No, no, don't take myhands, don't kiss them! Remain there in the shade, where I can scarcelysee you. . . . We have loved one another so long without aught to causeshame or regret; and that will prove our strength--our divinestrength--till we reach the grave. . . . And if you were to touch me, ifI were to feel you too near me I could not finish, for I have not done soyet. "

As soon as he had relapsed into silence and immobility, she continued:"If I were to die to-morrow, Gerard would not even find here the littlefortune which he still fancies is in my hands. The dear child has oftencost me large sums of money without apparently being conscious of it. Iought to have been more severe, more prudent. But what would you have?Ruin is at hand. I have always been too weak a mother. And do you nowunderstand in what anguish I live? I ever have the thought that if I dieGerard will not even possess enough to live on, for he is incapable ofeffecting the miracle which I renew each day, in order to keep the houseup on a decent footing. . . . Ah! I know him, so supine, so sickly, inspite of his proud bearing, unable to do anything, even conduct himself. And so what will become of him; will he not fall into the most diredistress?"

Then her tears flowed freely, her heart opened and bled, for she foresawwhat must happen after her death: the collapse of her race and of a wholeworld in the person of that big child. And the Marquis, still motionlessbut distracted, feeling that he had no title to offer his own fortune, suddenly understood her, foresaw in what disgrace this fresh disasterwould culminate. 

"Ah! my poor friend!" he said at last in a voice trembling with revoltand grief. "So you have agreed to that marriage--yes, that abominablemarriage with that woman's daughter! Yet you swore it should never be!You would rather witness the collapse of everything, you said. And nowyou are consenting, I can feel it!"

She still wept on in that black, silent drawing-room before thechimney-piece where the fire had died out. Did not Gerard's marriage toCamille mean a happy ending for herself, a certainty of leaving her sonwealthy, loved, and seated at the banquet of life? However, a lastfeeling of rebellion arose within her. 

"No, no, " she exclaimed, "I don't consent, I swear to you that I don'tconsent as yet. I am fighting with my whole strength, waging an incessantbattle, the torture of which you cannot imagine. "

Then, in all sincerity, she foresaw the likelihood of defeat. "If Ishould some day give way, my friend, at all events believe that I feel, as fully as you do, how abominable such a marriage must be. It will bethe end of our race and our honour!"

This cry profoundly stirred the Marquis, and he was unable to add a word. Haughty and uncompromising Catholic and Royalist that he was, he, on hisside also, expected nothing but the supreme collapse. Yet howheartrending was the thought that this noble woman, so dearly and sopurely loved, would prove one of the most mournful victims of thecatastrophe! And in the shrouding gloom he found courage to kneel beforeher, take her hand, and kiss it. 

Just as the servant was at last bringing a lighted lamp Gerard made hisappearance. The past-century charm of the old Louis XVI. Drawing-room, with its pale woodwork, again became apparent in the soft light. In orderthat his mother might not be over-saddened by his failure to dine withher that evening the young man had put on an air of brisk gaiety; andwhen he had explained that some friends were waiting for him, she at oncereleased him from his promise, happy as she felt at seeing him so merry. 

"Go, go, my dear boy, " said she, "but mind you do not tire yourself toomuch. . . . I am going to keep Morigny; and the General and Larombiereare coming at nine o'clock. So be easy, I shall have someone with me tokeep me from fretting and feeling lonely. "

In this wise Gerard after sitting down for a moment and chatting with theMarquis was able to slip away, dress, and betake himself to the CafeAnglais. 

When he reached it women in fur cloaks were already climbing the stairs, fashionable and merry parties were filling the private rooms, theelectric lights shone brilliantly, and the walls were already vibratingwith the stir of pleasure and debauchery. In the room which BaronDuvillard had engaged the young man found an extraordinary display, themost superb flowers, and a profusion of plate and crystal as for a royalgala. The pomp with which the six covers were laid called forth a smile;while the bill of fare and the wine list promised marvels, all the rarestand most expensive things that could be selected. 

"It's stylish, isn't it?" exclaimed Silviane, who was already there withDuvillard, Fonsegue and Duthil. "I just wanted to make your influentialcritic open his eyes a little! When one treats a journalist to such adinner as this, he has got to be amiable, hasn't he?"

In her desire to conquer, it had occurred to the young woman to arrayherself in the most amazing fashion. Her gown of yellow satin, coveredwith old Alencon lace, was cut low at the neck; and she had put on allher diamonds, a necklace, a diadem, shoulder-knots, bracelets and rings. With her candid, girlish face, she looked like some Virgin in a missal, aQueen-Virgin, laden with the offerings of all Christendom. 

"Well, well, you look so pretty, " said Gerard, who sometimes jested withher, "that I think it will do all the same. "

"Ah!" she replied with equanimity. "You consider me a /bourgeoise/, Isee. Your opinion is that a simple little dinner and a modest gown wouldhave shown better taste. But ah! my dear fellow, you don't know the wayto get round men!"

Duvillard signified his approval, for he was delighted to be able to showher in all her glory, adorned like an idol. Fonsegue, for his part, talked of diamonds, saying that they were now doubtful investments, asthe day when they would become articles of current manufacture was fastapproaching, thanks to the electrical furnace and other inventions. Meantime Duthil, with an air of ecstasy and the dainty gestures of alady's maid, hovered around the young woman, either smoothing arebellious bow or arranging some fold of her lace. 

"But I say, " resumed Silviane, "your critic seems to be an ill-bred man, for he's keeping us waiting. "

Indeed, the critic arrived a quarter of an hour late, and whileapologising, he expressed his regret that he should be obliged to leaveat half-past nine, for he was absolutely compelled to put in anappearance at a little theatre in the Rue Pigalle. He was a big fellow offifty with broad shoulders and a full, bearded face. His mostdisagreeable characteristic was the narrow dogmatic pedantry which he hadacquired at the Ecole Normale, and had never since been able to shakeoff. All his herculean efforts to be sceptical and frivolous, and thetwenty years he had spent in Paris mingling with every section ofsociety, had failed to rid him of it. /Magister/ he was, and /magister/he remained, even in his most strenuous flights of imagination andaudacity. From the moment of his arrival he tried to show himselfenraptured with Silviane. Naturally enough, he already knew her by sight, and had even criticised her on one occasion in five or six contemptuouslines. However, the sight of her there, in full beauty, clad like aqueen, and presented by four influential protectors, filled him withemotion; and he was struck with the idea that nothing would be moreParisian and less pedantic than to assert she had some talent and giveher his support. 

They had seated themselves at table, and the repast proved a magnificentone, the service ever prompt and assiduous, an attendant being allottedto each diner. While the flowers scattered their perfumes through theroom, and the plate and crystal glittered on the snowy cloth, anabundance of delicious and unexpected dishes were handed round--asturgeon from Russia, prohibited game, truffles as big as eggs, andhothouse vegetables and fruit as full of flavour as if they had beennaturally matured. It was money flung out of window, simply for thepleasure of wasting more than other people, and eating what they couldnot procure. The influential critic, though he displayed the ease of aman accustomed to every sort of festivity, really felt astonished at itall, and became servile, promising his support, and pledging himself farmore than he really wished to. Moreover, he showed himself very gay, found some witty remarks to repeat, and even some rather ribald jests. But when the champagne appeared after the roast and the grand burgundies, his over-excitement brought him back perforce to his real nature. Theconversation had now turned on Corneille's "Polyeucte" and the part of"Pauline, " in which Silviane wished to make her /debut/ at the ComedieFrancaise. This extraordinary caprice, which had quite revolted theinfluential critic a week previously, now seemed to him simply a boldenterprise in which the young woman might even prove victorious if sheconsented to listen to his advice. And, once started, he delivered quitea lecture on the past, asserting that no actress had ever yet understoodit properly, for at the outset Pauline was simply a well-meaning littlecreature of the middle classes, and the beauty of her conversion at thefinish arose from the working of a miracle, a stroke of heavenly gracewhich endowed her with something divine. This was not the opinion ofSilviane, who from the first lines regarded Pauline as the ideal heroineof some symbolical legend. However, as the critic talked on and on, shehad to feign approval; and he was delighted at finding her so beautifuland docile beneath his ferule. At last, as ten o'clock was striking, herose and tore out of the hot and reeking room in order to do his work. 

"Ah! my dears, " cried Silviane, "he's a nice bore is that critic ofyours! What a fool he is with his idea of Pauline being a little/bourgeoise/! I would have given him a fine dressing if it weren't forthe fact that I have some need of him. Ah! no, it's too idiotic! Pour meout a glass of champagne. I want something to set me right after allthat!"

The /fete/ then took quite an intimate turn between the four men whoremained and that bare-armed, bare-breasted girl, covered with diamonds;while from the neighbouring passages and rooms came bursts of laughterand sounds of kissing, all the stir and mirth of the debauchery nowfilling the house. And beneath the windows torrents of vehicles andpedestrians streamed along the Boulevards where reigned the wild fever ofpleasure and harlotry. 

"No, don't open it, or I shall catch cold!" resumed Silviane, addressingFonsegue as he stepped towards the window. "Are you so very warm, then?I'm just comfortable. . . . But, Duvillard, my good fellow, please ordersome more champagne. It's wonderful what a thirst your critic has givenme!"

Amidst the blinding glare of the lamps and the perfume of the flowers andwines, one almost stifled in the room. And Silviane was seized with anirresistible desire for a spree, a desire to tipple and amuse herself insome vulgar fashion, as in her bygone days. A few glasses of champagnebrought her to full pitch, and she showed the boldest and giddiestgaiety. The others, who had never before seen her so lively, began ontheir own side to feel amused. As Fonsegue was obliged to go to hisoffice she embraced him "like a daughter, " as she expressed it. However, on remaining alone with the others she indulged in great freedom ofspeech, which became more and more marked as her intoxication increased. And to the class of men with whom she consorted her great attraction, asshe was well aware, lay in the circumstance that with her virginalcountenance and her air of ideal purity was coupled the most monstrousperversity ever displayed by any shameless woman. Despite her innocentblue eyes and lily-like candour, she would give rein, particularly whenshe was drunk, to the most diabolical of fancies. 

Duvillard let her drink on, but she guessed his thoughts, like sheguessed those of the others, and simply smiled while concoctingimpossible stories and descanting fantastically in the language of thegutter. And seeing her there in her dazzling gown fit for a queenlyvirgin, and hearing her pour forth the vilest words, they thought hermost wonderfully droll. However, when she had drunk as much champagne asshe cared for and was half crazy, a novel idea suddenly occurred to her. 

"I say, my children, " she exclaimed, "we are surely not going to stophere. It's so precious slow! You shall take me to the Chamber ofHorrors--eh? just to finish the evening. I want to hear Legras sing 'LaChemise, ' that song which all Paris is running to hear him sing. "

But Duvillard indignantly rebelled: "Oh! no, " said he; "most certainlynot. It's a vile song and I'll never take you to such an abominableplace. "

But she did not appear to hear him. She had already staggered to her feetand was arranging her hair before a looking-glass. "I used to live atMontmartre, " she said, "and it'll amuse me to go back there. And, besides, I want to know if this Legras is a Legras that I knew, oh! everso long ago! Come, up you get, and let us be off!"

"But, my dear girl, " pleaded Duvillard, "we can't take you into that dendressed as you are! Just fancy your entering that place in a low-neckedgown and covered with diamonds! Why everyone would jeer at us! Come, Gerard, just tell her to be a little reasonable. "

Gerard, equally offended by the idea of such a freak, was quite willingto intervene. But she closed his mouth with her gloved hand and repeatedwith the gay obstinacy of intoxication: "Pooh, it will be all the moreamusing if they do jeer at us! Come, let us be off, let us be off, quick!"

Thereupon Duthil, who had been listening with a smile and the air of aman of pleasure whom nothing astonishes or displeases, gallantly took herpart. "But, my dear Baron, everybody goes to the Chamber of Horrors, "said he. "Why, I myself have taken the noblest ladies there, andprecisely to hear that song of Legras, which is no worse than anythingelse. "

"Ah! you hear what Duthil says!" cried Silviane. "He's a deputy, he is, and he wouldn't go there if he thought it would compromise hishonorability!"

Then, as Duvillard still struggled on in despair at the idea ofexhibiting himself with her in such a scandalous place, she became allthe merrier: "Well, my dear fellow, please yourself. I don't need you. You and Gerard can go home if you like. But I'm going to Montmartre withDuthil. You'll take charge of me, won't you, Duthil, eh?"

Still, the Baron was in no wise disposed to let the evening finish inthat fashion. The mere idea of it gave him a shock, and he had to resignhimself to the girl's stubborn caprice. The only consolation he couldthink of was to secure Gerard's presence, for the young man, with somelingering sense of decorum, still obstinately refused to make one of theparty. So the Baron took his hands and detained him, repeating in urgenttones that he begged him to come as an essential mark of friendship. Andat last the wife's lover and daughter's suitor had to give way to the manwho was the former's husband and the latter's father. 

Silviane was immensely amused by it all, and, indiscreetly thee-ing andthou-ing Gerard, suggested that he at least owed the Baron some littlecompliance with his wishes. 

Duvillard pretended not to hear her. He was listening to Duthil, who toldhim that there was a sort of box in a corner of the Chamber of Horrors, in which one could in some measure conceal oneself. And then, asSilviane's carriage--a large closed landau, whose coachman, a sturdy, handsome fellow, sat waiting impassively on his box--was down below, theystarted off. 

The Chamber of Horrors was installed in premises on the Boulevard deRochechouart, formerly occupied by a cafe whose proprietor had becomebankrupt. * It was a suffocating place, narrow, irregular, with all sortsof twists, turns, and secluded nooks, and a low and smoky ceiling. Andnothing could have been more rudimentary than its decorations. The wallshad simply been placarded with posters of violent hues, some of thecrudest character, showing the barest of female figures. Behind a pianoat one end there was a little platform reached by a curtained doorway. For the rest, one simply found a number of bare wooden forms setalongside the veriest pot-house tables, on which the glasses containingvarious beverages left round and sticky marks. There was no luxury, noartistic feature, no cleanliness even. Globeless gas burners flaredfreely, heating a dense mist compounded of tobacco smoke and humanbreath. Perspiring, apoplectical faces could be perceived through thisveil, and an acrid odour increased the intoxication of the assembly, which excited itself with louder and louder shouts at each fresh song. Ithad been sufficient for an enterprising fellow to set up these boards, bring out Legras, accompanied by two or three girls, make him sing hisfrantic and abominable songs, and in two or three evenings overwhelmingsuccess had come, all Paris being enticed and flocking to the place, which for ten years or so had failed to pay as a mere cafe, where by wayof amusement petty cits had been simply allowed their daily games atdominoes. 

 * Those who know Paris will identify the site selected by M. Zola as that where 'Colonel' Lisbonne of the Commune installed his den the 'Bagne' some years ago. Nevertheless, such places as the 'Chamber of Horrors' now abound in the neighbourhood of Montmartre, and it must be admitted that whilst they are frequented by certain classes of Frenchmen they owe much of their success in a pecuniary sense to the patronage of foreigners. Among the latter, Englishmen are particularly conspicuous. --Trans. 

And the change had been caused by the passion for filth, the irresistibleattraction exercised by all that brought opprobrium and disgust. TheParis of enjoyment, the /bourgeoisie/ which held all wealth and power, which would relinquish naught of either, though it was surfeited andgradually wearying of both, simply hastened to the place in order thatobscenity and insult might be flung in its face. Hypnotised, as it were, while staggering to its fall, it felt a need of being spat upon. And whata frightful symptom there lay in it all: those condemned ones rushingupon dirt of their own accord, voluntarily hastening their owndecomposition by that unquenchable thirst for the vile, which attractedmen, reputed to be grave and upright, and lovely women of the mostperfect grace and luxury, to all the beastliness of that low den!

At one of the tables nearest the stage sat little Princess Rosemonde deHarn, with wild eyes and quivering nostrils, delighted as she felt at nowbeing able to satisfy her curiosity regarding the depths of Paris life. Young Hyacinthe had resigned himself to the task of bringing her, and, correctly buttoned up in his long frock-coat, he was indulgent enough torefrain from any marked expression of boredom. At a neighbouring tablethey had found a shadowy Spaniard of their acquaintance, a so-calledBourse jobber, Bergaz, who had been introduced to the Princess by Janzen, and usually attended her entertainments. They virtually knew nothingabout him, not even if he really earned at the Bourse all the money whichhe sometimes spent so lavishly, and which enabled him to dress withaffected elegance. His slim, lofty figure was not without a certain airof distinction, but his red lips spoke of strong passions and his brighteyes were those of a beast of prey. That evening he had two young fellowswith him, one Rossi, a short, swarthy Italian, who had come to Paris as apainter's model, and had soon glided into the lazy life of certaindisreputable callings, and the other, Sanfaute, a born Parisianblackguard, a pale, beardless, vicious and impudent stripling of LaChapelle, whose long curly hair fell down upon either side of his bonycheeks. 

"Oh! pray now!" feverishly said Rosemonde to Bergaz; "as you seem to knowall these horrid people, just show me some of the celebrities. Aren'tthere some thieves and murderers among them?"

He laughed shrilly, and in a bantering way replied: "But you know thesepeople well enough, madame. That pretty, pink, delicate-looking womanover yonder is an American lady, the wife of a consul, whom, I believe, you receive at your house. That other on the right, that tall brunettewho shows such queenly dignity, is a Countess, whose carriage passesyours every day in the Bois. And the thin one yonder, whose eyes glitterlike those of a she-wolf, is the particular friend of a high official, who is well known for his reputation of austerity. "

But she stopped him, in vexation: "I know, I know. But the others, thoseof the lower classes, those whom one comes to see. "

Then she went on asking questions, and seeking for terrifying andmysterious countenances. At last, two men seated in a corner ended byattracting her attention; one of them a very young fellow with a pale, pinched face, and the other an ageless individual who, besides beingbuttoned up to his neck in an old coat, had pulled his cap so low overhis eyes, that one saw little of his face beyond the beard which fringedit. Before these two stood a couple of mugs of beer, which they drankslowly and in silence. 

"You are making a great mistake, my dear, " said Hyacinthe with a franklaugh, "if you are looking for brigands in disguise. That poor fellowwith the pale face, who surely doesn't have food to eat every day, was myschoolfellow at Condorcet!"

Bergaz expressed his amazement. "What! you knew Mathis at Condorcet!After all, though, you're right, he received a college education. Ah! andso you knew him. A very remarkable young man he is, though want isthrottling him. But, I say, the other one, his companion, you don't knowhim?"

Hyacinthe, after looking at the man with the cap-hidden face, was alreadyshaking his head, when Bergaz suddenly gave him a nudge as a signal tokeep quiet, and by way of explanation he muttered: "Hush! Here'sRaphanel. I've been distrusting him for some time past. Whenever heappears anywhere, the police is not far off. "

Raphanel was another of the vague, mysterious Anarchists whom Janzen hadpresented to the Princess by way of satisfying her momentary passion forrevolutionism. This one, though he was a fat, gay, little man, with adoll-like face and childish nose, which almost disappeared between hispuffy cheeks, had the reputation of being a thorough desperado; and atpublic meetings he certainly shouted for fire and murder with all hislungs. Still, although he had already been compromised in variousaffairs, he had invariably managed to save his own bacon, whilst hiscompanions were kept under lock and key; and this they were now beginningto think somewhat singular. 

He at once shook hands with the Princess in a jovial way, took a seatnear her without being invited, and forthwith denounced the dirty/bourgeoisie/ which came to wallow in places of ill fame. Rosemonde wasdelighted, and encouraged him, but others near by began to get angry, andBergaz examined him with his piercing eyes, like a man of energy whoacts, and lets others talk. Now and then, too, he exchanged quick glancesof intelligence with his silent lieutenants, Sanfaute and Rossi, whoplainly belonged to him, both body and soul. They were the ones who foundtheir profit in Anarchy, practising it to its logical conclusions, whether in crime or in vice. 

Meantime, pending the arrival of Legras with his "Flowers of thePavement, " two female vocalists had followed one another on the stage, the first fat and the second thin, one chirruping some silly love songswith an under-current of dirt, and the other shouting the coarsest ofrefrains, in a most violent, fighting voice. She had just finished amidsta storm of bravos, when the assembly, stirred to merriment and eager fora laugh, suddenly exploded once more. Silviane was entering the littlebox at one end of the hall. When she appeared erect in the full light, with bare arms and shoulders, looking like a planet in her gown of yellowsatin and her blazing diamonds, there arose a formidable uproar, shouts, jeers, hisses, laughing and growling, mingled with ferocious applause. And the scandal increased, and the vilest expressions flew about as soonas Duvillard, Gerard and Duthil also showed themselves, looking veryserious and dignified with their white ties and spreading shirt fronts. 

"We told you so!" muttered Duvillard, who was much annoyed with theaffair, while Gerard tried to conceal himself in a dim corner. 

She, however, smiling and enchanted, faced the public, accepting thestorm with the candid bearing of a foolish virgin, much as one inhalesthe vivifying air of the open when it bears down upon one in a squall. And, indeed, she herself had sprung from the sphere before her, itsatmosphere was her native air. 

"Well, what of it?" she said replying to the Baron who wanted her to sitdown. "They are merry. It's very nice. Oh! I'm really amusing myself!"

"Why, yes, it's very nice, " declared Duthil, who in like fashion sethimself at his ease. "Silviane is right, people naturally like a laughnow and then!"

Amidst the uproar, which did not cease, little Princess Rosemonde roseenthusiastically to get a better view. "Why, it's your father who's withthat woman Silviane, " she said to Hyacinthe. "Just look at them! Well, hecertainly has plenty of bounce to show himself here with her!"

Hyacinthe, however, refused to look. It didn't interest him, his fatherwas an idiot, only a child would lose his head over a girl in thatfashion. And with his contempt for woman the young man became positivelyinsulting. 

"You try my nerves, my dear fellow, " said Rosemonde as she sat down. "Youare the child with your silly ideas about us. And as for your father, hedoes quite right to love that girl. I find her very pretty indeed, quiteadorable!"

Then all at once the uproar ceased, those who had risen resumed theirseats, and the only sound was that of the feverish throb which coursedthrough the assembly. Legras had just appeared on the platform. He was apale sturdy fellow with a round and carefully shaven face, stern eyes, and the powerful jaws of a man who compels the adoration of women byterrorising them. He was not deficient in talent, he sang true, and hisringing voice was one of extraordinary penetration and pathetic power. And his /repertoire/, his "Flowers of the Pavement, " completed theexplanation of his success; for all the foulness and suffering of thelower spheres, the whole abominable sore of the social hell created bythe rich, shrieked aloud in these songs in words of filth and fire andblood. 

A prelude was played on the piano, and Legras standing there in hisvelvet jacket sang "La Chemise, " the horrible song which brought allParis to hear him. All the lust and vice that crowd the streets of thegreat city appeared with their filth and their poison; and amid thepicture of Woman stripped, degraded, ill-treated, dragged through themire and cast into a cesspool, there rang out the crime of the/bourgeoisie/. But the scorching insult of it all was less in the wordsthemselves than in the manner in which Legras cast them in the faces ofthe rich, the happy, the beautiful ladies who came to listen to him. Under the low ceiling, amidst the smoke from the pipes, in the blindingglare of the gas, he sent his lines flying through the assembly likeexpectorations, projected by a whirlwind of furious contempt. And when hehad finished there came delirium; the beautiful ladies did not even thinkof wiping away the many affronts they had received, but applaudedfrantically. The whole assembly stamped and shouted, and wallowed, distracted, in its ignominy. 

"Bravo! bravo!" the little Princess repeated in her shrill voice. "It'sastonishing, astonishing, prodigious!"

And Silviane, whose intoxication seemed to have increased since she hadbeen there, in the depths of that fiery furnace, made herselfparticularly conspicuous by the manner in which she clapped her hands andshouted: "It's he, it's my Legras! I really must kiss him, he's pleasedme so much!"

Duvillard, now fairly exasperated, wished to take her off by force. Butshe clung to the hand-rest of the box, and shouted yet more loudly, though without any show of temper. It became necessary to parley withher. Yes, she was willing to go off and let them drive her home; but, first of all, she must embrace Legras, who was an old friend of hers. "Goand wait for me in the carriage!" she said, "I will be with you in amoment. "

Just as the assembly was at last becoming calmer, Rosemonde perceivedthat the box was emptying; and her own curiosity being satisfied, shethought of prevailing on Hyacinthe to see her home. He, who had listenedto Legras in a languid way without even applauding, was now talking ofNorway with Bergaz, who pretended that he had travelled in the North. Oh!the fiords! oh! the ice-bound lakes! oh! the pure lily-white, chastecoldness of the eternal winter! It was only amid such surroundings, saidHyacinthe, that he could understand woman and love, like a kiss of thevery snow itself. 

"Shall we go off there to-morrow?" exclaimed the Princess with hervivacious effrontery. "I'll shut up my house and slip the key under thedoor. "

Then she added that she was jesting, of course. But Bergaz knew her to bequite capable of such a freak; and at the idea that she might shut up herlittle mansion and perhaps leave it unprotected he exchanged a quickglance with Sanfaute and Rossi, who still smiled in silence. Ah! what anopportunity for a fine stroke! What an opportunity to get back some ofthe wealth of the community appropriated by the blackguard /bourgeoisie/!

Meantime Raphanel, after applauding Legras, was looking all round theplace with his little grey, sharp eyes. And at last young Mathis and hiscompanion, the ill-clad individual, of whose face only a scrap of beardcould be seen, attracted his attention. They had neither laughed norapplauded; they seemed to be simply a couple of tired fellows who wereresting, and in whose opinion one is best hidden in the midst of a crowd. 

All at once, though, Raphanel turned towards Bergaz: "That's surelylittle Mathis over yonder. But who's that with him?"

Bergaz made an evasive gesture; he did not know. Still, he no longer tookhis eyes from Raphanel. And he saw the other feign indifference at whatfollowed, and finish his beer and take his leave, with the jesting remarkthat he had an appointment with a lady at a neighbouring omnibus office. No sooner had he gone than Bergaz rose, sprang over some of the forms andjostled people in order to reach little Mathis, into whose ear hewhispered a few words. And the young man at once left his table, takinghis companion and pushing him outside through an occasional exit. It wasall so rapidly accomplished that none of the general public paidattention to the flight. 

"What is it?" said the Princess to Bergaz, when he had quietly resumedhis seat between Rossi and Sanfaute. 

"Oh! nothing, I merely wished to shake hands with Mathis as he was goingoff. "

Thereupon Rosemonde announced that she meant to do the same. Nevertheless, she lingered a moment longer and again spoke of Norway onperceiving that nothing could impassion Hyacinthe except the idea of theeternal snow, the intense, purifying cold of the polar regions. In hispoem on the "End of Woman, " a composition of some thirty lines, which hehoped he should never finish, he thought of introducing a forest offrozen pines by way of final scene. Now the Princess had risen and wasgaily reverting to her jest, declaring that she meant to take him home todrink a cup of tea and arrange their trip to the Pole, when aninvoluntary exclamation fell from Bergaz, who, while listening, had kepthis eyes on the doorway. 

"Mondesir! I was sure of it!"

There had appeared at the entrance a short, sinewy, broad-backed littleman, about whose round face, bumpy forehead, and snub nose there wasconsiderable military roughness. One might have thought him anon-commissioned officer in civilian attire. He gazed over the wholeroom, and seemed at once dismayed and disappointed. 

Bergaz, however, wishing to account for his exclamation, resumed in aneasy way: "Ah! I said there was a smell of the police about the place!You see that fellow--he's a detective, a very clever one, named Mondesir, who had some trouble when he was in the army. Just look at him, sniffinglike a dog that has lost scent! Well, well, my brave fellow, if you'vebeen told of any game you may look and look for it, the bird's flownalready!"

Once outside, when Rosemonde had prevailed on Hyacinthe to see her home, they hastened to get into the brougham, which was waiting for them, fornear at hand they perceived Silviane's landau, with the majestic coachmanmotionless on his box, while Duvillard, Gerard, and Duthil still stoodwaiting on the curbstone. They had been there for nearly twenty minutesalready, in the semi-darkness of that outer boulevard, where all thevices of the poor districts of Paris were on the prowl. They had beenjostled by drunkards; and shadowy women brushed against them as they wentby whispering beneath the oaths and blows of bullies. And there werecouples seeking the darkness under the trees, and lingering on thebenches there; while all around were low taverns and dirty lodging-housesand places of ill-fame. All the human degradation which till break of dayswarms in the black mud of this part of Paris, enveloped the three men, giving them the horrors, and yet neither the Baron nor Gerard nor Duthilwas willing to go off. Each hoped that he would tire out the others, andtake Silviane home when she should at last appear. 

But after a time the Baron grew impatient, and said to the coachman:"Jules, go and see why madame doesn't come. "

"But the horses, Monsieur le Baron?"

"Oh! they will be all right, we are here. "

A fine drizzle had begun to fall; and the wait went on again as if itwould never finish. But an unexpected meeting gave them momentaryoccupation. A shadowy form, something which seemed to be a thin, black-skirted woman, brushed against them. And all of a sudden they weresurprised to find it was a priest. 

"What, is it you, Monsieur l'Abbe Froment?" exclaimed Gerard. "At thistime of night? And in this part of Paris?"

Thereupon Pierre, without venturing either to express his ownastonishment at finding them there themselves, or to ask them what theywere doing, explained that he had been belated through accompanying AbbeRose on a visit to a night refuge. Ah! to think of all the frightful wantwhich at last drifted to those pestilential dormitories where the stenchhad almost made him faint! To think of all the weariness and despairwhich there sank into the slumber of utter prostration, like that ofbeasts falling to the ground to sleep off the abominations of life! Noname could be given to the promiscuity; poverty and suffering were therein heaps, children and men, young and old, beggars in sordid rags, besidethe shameful poor in threadbare frock-coats, all the waifs and strays ofthe daily shipwrecks of Paris life, all the laziness and vice, andill-luck and injustice which the torrent rolls on, and throws off likescum. Some slept on, quite annihilated, with the faces of corpses. Others, lying on their backs with mouths agape, snored loudly as if stillventing the plaint of their sorry life. And others tossed restlessly, still struggling in their slumber against fatigue and cold and hunger, which pursued them like nightmares of monstrous shape. And from all thosehuman beings, stretched there like wounded after a battle, from all thatambulance of life reeking with a stench of rottenness and death, thereascended a nausea born of revolt, the vengeance-prompting thought of allthe happy chambers where, at that same hour, the wealthy loved or restedin fine linen and costly lace. *

 * Even the oldest Paris night refuges, which are the outcome of private philanthropy--L'Oeuvre de l'Hospitalite de Nuit-- have only been in existence some fourteen or fifteen years. Before that time, and from the period of the great Revolution forward, there was absolutely no place, either refuge, asylum, or workhouse, in the whole of that great city of wealth and pleasure, where the houseless poor could crave a night's shelter. The various royalist, imperialist and republican governments and municipalities of modern France have often been described as 'paternal, ' but no governments and municipalities in the whole civilised world have done less for the very poor. The official Poor Relief Board--L'Assistance Publique--has for fifty years been a by-word, a mockery and a sham, in spite of its large revenue. And this neglect of the very poor has been an important factor in every French revolution. Each of these--even that of 1870--had its purely economic side, though many superficial historians are content to ascribe economic causes to the one Revolution of 1789, and to pass them by in all other instances. --Trans. 

In vain had Pierre and Abbe Rose passed all the poor wretches in reviewwhile seeking the big Old'un, the former carpenter, so as to rescue himfrom the cesspool of misery, and send him to the Asylum on the verymorrow. He had presented himself at the refuge that evening, but therewas no room left, for, horrible to say, even the shelter of that hellcould only be granted to early comers. And so he must now be leaningagainst a wall, or lying behind some palings. This had greatly distressedpoor Abbe Rose and Pierre, but it was impossible for them to search everydark, suspicious corner; and so the former had returned to the RueCortot, while the latter was seeking a cab to convey him back to Neuilly. 

The fine drizzling rain was still falling and becoming almost icy, whenSilviane's coachman, Jules, at last reappeared and interrupted thepriest, who was telling the Baron and the others how his visit to therefuge still made him shudder. 

"Well, Jules--and madame?" asked Duvillard, quite anxious at seeing thecoachman return alone. 

Impassive and respectful, with no other sign of irony than a slightinvoluntary twist of the lips, Jules answered: "Madame sends word thatshe is not going home; and she places her carriage at the gentlemen'sdisposal if they will allow me to drive them home. "

This was the last straw, and the Baron flew into a passion. To haveallowed her to drag him to that vile den, to have waited there hopefullyso long, and to be treated in this fashion for the sake of a Legras! No, no, he, the Baron, had had enough of it, and she should pay dearly forher abominable conduct! Then he stopped a passing cab and pushed Gerardinside it saying, "You can set me down at my door. "

"But she's left us the carriage!" shouted Duthil, who was alreadyconsoled, and inwardly laughed at the termination of it all. "Come here, there's plenty of room for three. No? you prefer the cab? Well, just asyou like, you know. "

For his part he gaily climbed into the landau and drove off lounging onthe cushions, while the Baron, in the jolting old cab, vented his ragewithout a word of interruption from Gerard, whose face was hidden by thedarkness. To think of it! that she, whom he had overwhelmed with gifts, who had already cost him two millions of francs, should in this fashioninsult him, the master who could dispose both of fortunes and of men!Well, she had chosen to do it, and he was delivered! Then Duvillard drewa long breath like a man released from the galleys. 

For a moment Pierre watched the two vehicles go off; and then took hisown way under the trees, so as to shelter himself from the rain until avacant cab should pass. Full of distress and battling thoughts he hadbegun to feel icy cold. The whole monstrous night of Paris, all thedebauchery and woe that sobbed around him made him shiver. Phantom-likewomen who, when young, had led lives of infamy in wealth, and who now, old and faded, led lives of infamy in poverty, were still and everwandering past him in search of bread, when suddenly a shadowy formgrazed him, and a voice murmured in his ear: "Warn your brother, thepolice are on Salvat's track, he may be arrested at any moment. "

The shadowy figure was already going its way, and as a gas ray fell uponit, Pierre thought that he recognised the pale, pinched face of VictorMathis. And at the same time, yonder in Abbe Rose's peaceful dining-room, he fancied he could again see the gentle face of Madame Mathis, so sadand so resigned, living on solely by the force of the last trembling hopewhich she had unhappily set in her son. 

III

PLOT AND COUNTERPLOT

ALREADY at eight o'clock on that holiday-making mid-Lent Thursday, whenall the offices of the Home Department were empty, Monferrand, theMinister, sat alone in his private room. A single usher guarded his door, and in the first ante-chamber there were only a couple of messengers. 

The Minister had experienced, on awaking, the most unpleasant ofemotions. The "Voix du Peuple, " which on the previous day had revived theAfrican Railway scandal, by accusing Barroux of having pocketed 20, 000francs, had that morning published its long-promised list of thebribe-taking senators and deputies. And at the head of this listMonferrand had found his own name set down against a sum of 80, 000francs, while Fonsegue was credited with 50, 000. Then a fifth of thelatter amount was said to have been Duthil's share, and Chaigneux hadcontented himself with the beggarly sum of 3, 000 francs--the lowest pricepaid for any one vote, the cost of each of the others ranging from 5 to20, 000. 

It must be said that there was no anger in Monferrand's emotion. Only hehad never thought that Sagnier would carry his passion for uproar andscandal so far as to publish this list--a page which was said to havebeen torn from a memorandum book belonging to Duvillard's agent, Hunter, and which was covered with incomprehensible hieroglyphics that ought tohave been discussed and explained, if, indeed, the real truth was to bearrived at. Personally, Monferrand felt quite at ease, for he had writtennothing, signed nothing, and knew that one could always extricate oneselffrom a mess by showing some audacity, and never confessing. Nevertheless, what a commotion it would all cause in the parliamentary duck-pond. He atonce realised the inevitable consequences, the ministry overthrown andswept away by this fresh whirlwind of denunciation and tittle-tattle. Mege would renew his interpellation on the morrow, and Vignon and hisfriends would at once lay siege to the posts they coveted. And he, Monferrand, could picture himself driven out of that ministerial sanctumwhere, for eight months past, he had been taking his ease, not with anyfoolish vainglory, but with the pleasure of feeling that he was in hisproper place as a born ruler, who believed he could tame and lead themultitude. 

Having thrown the newspapers aside with a disdainful gesture, he rose andstretched himself, growling the while like a plagued lion. And then hebegan to walk up and down the spacious room, which showed all the fadedofficial luxury of mahogany furniture and green damask hangings. Steppingto and fro, with his hands behind his back, he no longer wore his usualfatherly, good-natured air. He appeared as he really was, a bornwrestler, short, but broad shouldered, with sensual mouth, fleshy noseand stern eyes, that all proclaimed him to be unscrupulous, of iron willand fit for the greatest tasks. Still, in this case, in what directionlay his best course? Must he let himself be dragged down with Barroux?Perhaps his personal position was not absolutely compromised? And yet howcould he part company from the others, swim ashore, and save himselfwhile they were being drowned? It was a grave problem, and with hisfrantic desire to retain power, he made desperate endeavours to devisesome suitable manoeuvre. 

But he could think of nothing, and began to swear at the virtuous fits ofthat silly Republic, which, in his opinion, rendered all governmentimpossible. To think of such foolish fiddle-faddle stopping a man of hisacumen and strength! How on earth can one govern men if one is denied theuse of money, that sovereign means of sway? And he laughed bitterly; forthe idea of an idyllic country where all great enterprises would becarried out in an absolutely honest manner seemed to him the height ofabsurdity. 

At last, however, unable as he was to come to a determination, itoccurred to him to confer with Baron Duvillard, whom he had long known, and whom he regretted not having seen sooner so as to urge him topurchase Sagnier's silence. At first he thought of sending the Baron abrief note by a messenger; but he disliked committing anything to paper, for the veriest scrap of writing may prove dangerous; so he preferred toemploy the telephone which had been installed for his private use nearhis writing-table. 

"It is Baron Duvillard who is speaking to me? . . . Quite so. It's I, theMinister, Monsieur Monferrand. I shall be much obliged if you will cometo see me at once. . . . Quite so, quite so, I will wait for you. "

Then again he walked to and fro and meditated. That fellow Duvillard wasas clever a man as himself, and might be able to give him an idea. And hewas still laboriously trying to devise some scheme, when the usherentered saying that Monsieur Gascogne, the Chief of the Detective Police, particularly wished to speak to him. Monferrand's first thought was thatthe Prefecture of Police desired to know his views respecting the stepswhich ought to be taken to ensure public order that day; for two mid-Lentprocessions--one of the Washerwomen and the other of the Students--wereto march through Paris, whose streets would certainly be crowded. 

"Show Monsieur Gascogne in, " he said. 

A tall, slim, dark man, looking like an artisan in his Sunday best, thenstepped into the ministerial sanctum. Fully acquainted with theunder-currents of Paris life, this Chief of the Detective Force had acold dispassionate nature and a clear and methodical mind. Professionalism slightly spoilt him, however: he would have possessedmore intelligence if he had not credited himself with so much. 

He began by apologising for his superior the Prefect, who would certainlyhave called in person had he not been suffering from indisposition. However, it was perhaps best that he, Gascogne, should acquaint Monsieurle Ministre with the grave affair which brought him, for he knew everydetail of it. Then he revealed what the grave affair was. 

"I believe, Monsieur le Ministre, that we at last hold the perpetrator ofthe crime in the Rue Godot-de-Mauroy. "

At this, Monferrand, who had been listening impatiently, became quiteimpassioned. The fruitless searches of the police, the attacks and thejeers of the newspapers, were a source of daily worry to him. "Ah!--Well, so much the better for you Monsieur Gascogne, " he replied with brutalfrankness. "You would have ended by losing your post. The man isarrested?"

"Not yet, Monsieur le Ministre; but he cannot escape, and it is merely anaffair of a few hours. "

Then the Chief of the Detective Force told the whole story: how DetectiveMondesir, on being warned by a secret agent that the Anarchist Salvat wasin a tavern at Montmartre, had reached it just as the bird had flown;then how chance had again set him in presence of Salvat at a hundredpaces or so from the tavern, the rascal having foolishly loitered thereto watch the establishment; and afterwards how Salvat had been stealthilyshadowed in the hope that they might catch him in his hiding-place withhis accomplices. And, in this wise, he had been tracked to thePorte-Maillot, where, realising, no doubt, that he was pursued, he hadsuddenly bolted into the Bois de Boulogne. It was there that he had beenhiding since two o'clock in the morning in the drizzle which had notceased to fall. They had waited for daylight in order to organise a/battue/ and hunt him down like some animal, whose weariness mustnecessarily ensure capture. And so, from one moment to another, he wouldbe caught. 

"I know the great interest you take in the arrest, Monsieur le Ministre, "added Gascogne, "and it occurred to me to ask your orders. DetectiveMondesir is over there, directing the hunt. He regrets that he did notapprehend the man on the Boulevard de Rochechouart; but, all the same, the idea of following him was a capital one, and one can only reproachMondesir with having forgotten the Bois de Boulogne in his calculations. "

Salvat arrested! That fellow Salvat whose name had filled the newspapersfor three weeks past. This was a most fortunate stroke which would betalked of far and wide! In the depths of Monferrand's fixed eyes onecould divine a world of thoughts and a sudden determination to turn thisincident which chance had brought him to his own personal advantage. Inhis own mind a link was already forming between this arrest and thatAfrican Railways interpellation which was likely to overthrow theministry on the morrow. The first outlines of a scheme already rosebefore him. Was it not his good star that had sent him what he had beenseeking--a means of fishing himself out of the troubled waters of theapproaching crisis?

"But tell me, Monsieur Gascogne, " said he, "are you quite sure that thisman Salvat committed the crime?"

"Oh! perfectly sure, Monsieur le Ministre. He'll confess everything inthe cab before he reaches the Prefecture. "

Monferrand again walked to and fro with a pensive air, and ideas came tohim as he spoke on in a slow, meditative fashion. "My orders! well, myorders, they are, first, that you must act with the very greatestprudence. Yes, don't gather a mob of promenaders together. Try to arrangethings so that the arrest may pass unperceived--and if you secure aconfession keep it to yourself, don't communicate it to the newspapers. Yes, I particularly recommend that point to you, don't take thenewspapers into your confidence at all--and finally, come and tell meeverything, and observe secrecy, absolute secrecy, with everybody else. "

Gascogne bowed and would have withdrawn, but Monferrand detained him tosay that not a day passed without his friend Monsieur Lehmann, the PublicProsecutor, receiving letters from Anarchists who threatened to blow himup with his family; in such wise that, although he was by no means acoward, he wished his house to be guarded by plain-clothes officers. Asimilar watch was already kept upon the house where investigatingmagistrate Amadieu resided. And if the latter's life was precious, thatof Public Prosecutor Lehmann was equally so, for he was one of thosepolitical magistrates, one of those shrewd talented Israelites, who maketheir way in very honest fashion by invariably taking the part of theGovernment in office. 

Then Gascogne in his turn remarked: "There is also the Barthes affair, Monsieur le Ministre--we are still waiting. Are we to arrest Barthes atthat little house at Neuilly?"

One of those chances which sometimes come to the help of detectives andmake people think the latter to be men of genius had revealed to him thecircumstance that Barthes had found a refuge with Abbe Pierre Froment. Ever since the Anarchist terror had thrown Paris into dismay a warranthad been out against the old man, not for any precise offence, but simplybecause he was a suspicious character and might, therefore, have had someintercourse with the Revolutionists. However, it had been repugnant toGascogne to arrest him at the house of a priest whom the whole districtvenerated as a saint; and the Minister, whom he had consulted on thepoint, had warmly approved of his reserve, since a member of the clergywas in question, and had undertaken to settle the affair himself. 

"No, Monsieur Gascogne, " he now replied, "don't move in the matter. Youknow what my feelings are, that we ought to have the priests with us andnot against us--I have had a letter written to Abbe Froment in order thathe may call here this morning, as I shall have no other visitors. I willspeak to him myself, and you may take it that the affair no longerconcerns you. "

Then he was about to dismiss him when the usher came back saying that thePresident of the Council was in the ante-room. *

 * The title of President of the Council is given to the French prime minister. --Trans. 

"Barroux!--Ah! dash it, then, Monsieur Gascogne, you had better go outthis way. It is as well that nobody should meet you, as I wish you tokeep silent respecting Salvat's arrest. It's fully understood, is it not?I alone am to know everything; and you will communicate with me heredirect, by the telephone, if any serious incident should arise. "

The Chief of the Detective Police had scarcely gone off, by way of anadjoining /salon/, when the usher reopened the door communicating withthe ante-room: "Monsieur le President du Conseil. "

With a nicely adjusted show of deference and cordiality, Monferrandstepped forward, his hands outstretched: "Ah! my dear President, why didyou put yourself out to come here? I would have called on you if I hadknown that you wished to see me. "

But with an impatient gesture Barroux brushed aside all question ofetiquette. "No, no! I was taking my usual stroll in the Champs Elysees, and the worries of the situation impressed me so keenly that I preferredto come here at once. You yourself must realise that we can't put up withwhat is taking place. And pending to-morrow morning's council, when weshall have to arrange a plan of defence, I felt that there was goodreason for us to talk things over. "

He took an armchair, and Monferrand on his side rolled another forward soas to seat himself with his back to the light. Whilst Barroux, the elderof the pair by ten years, blanched and solemn, with a handsome face, snowy whiskers, clean-shaven chin and upper-lip, retained all the dignityof power, the bearing of a Conventionnel of romantic views, who sought tomagnify the simple loyalty of a rather foolish but good-hearted/bourgeois/ nature into something great; the other, beneath his heavycommon countenance and feigned frankness and simplicity, concealedunknown depths, the unfathomable soul of a shrewd enjoyer and despot whowas alike pitiless and unscrupulous in attaining his ends. 

For a moment Barroux drew breath, for in reality he was greatly moved, his blood rising to his head, and his heart beating with indignation andanger at the thought of all the vulgar insults which the "Voix du Peuple"had poured upon him again that morning. "Come, my dear colleague, " saidhe, "one must stop that scandalous campaign. Moreover, you can realisewhat awaits us at the Chamber to-morrow. Now that the famous list hasbeen published we shall have every malcontent up in arms. Vignon isbestirring himself already--"

"Ah! you have news of Vignon?" exclaimed Monferrand, becoming veryattentive. 

"Well, as I passed his door just now, I saw a string of cabs waitingthere. All his creatures have been on the move since yesterday, and atleast twenty persons have told me that the band is already dividing thespoils. For, as you must know, the fierce and ingenuous Mege is againgoing to pull the chestnuts out of the fire for others. Briefly, we aredead, and the others claim that they are going to bury us in mud beforethey fight over our leavings. " With his arm outstretched Barroux made atheatrical gesture, and his voice resounded as if he were in the tribune. Nevertheless, his emotion was real, tears even were coming to his eyes. "To think that I who have given my whole life to the Republic, I whofounded it, who saved it, should be covered with insults in this fashion, and obliged to defend myself against abominable charges! To say that Iabused my trust! That I sold myself and took 200, 000 francs from that manHunter, simply to slip them into my pocket! Well, certainly there /was/ aquestion of 200, 000 francs between us. But how and under whatcircumstances? They were doubtless the same as in your case, with regardto the 80, 000 francs that he is said to have handed you--"

But Monferrand interrupted his colleague in a clear trenchant voice: "Henever handed me a centime. "

The other looked at him in astonishment, but could only see his big, rough head, whose features were steeped in shadow: "Ah! But I thought youhad business relations with him, and knew him particularly well. "

"No, I simply knew Hunter as everyone knew him. I was not even aware thathe was Baron Duvillard's agent in the African Railways matter; and therewas never any question of that affair between us. "

This was so improbable, so contrary to everything Barroux knew of thebusiness, that for a moment he felt quite scared. Then he waved his handas if to say that others might as well look after their own affairs, andreverted to himself. "Oh! as for me, " he said, "Hunter called on me morethan ten times, and made me quite sick with his talk of the AfricanRailways. It was at the time when the Chamber was asked to authorise theissue of lottery stock. * And, by the way, my dear fellow, I was then hereat the Home Department, while you had just taken that of Public Works. Ican remember sitting at that very writing-table, while Hunter was in thesame armchair that I now occupy. That day he wanted to consult me aboutthe employment of the large sum which Duvillard's house proposed to spendin advertising; and on seeing what big amounts were set down against theRoyalist journals, I became quite angry, for I realised with perfectaccuracy that this money would simply be used to wage war against theRepublic. And so, yielding to Hunter's entreaties, I also drew up a listallotting 200, 000 francs among the friendly Republican newspapers, whichwere paid through me, I admit it. And that's the whole story. "**

 * This kind of stock is common enough in France. A part of it is extinguished annually at a public "drawing, " when all such shares or bonds that are drawn become entitled to redemption at "par, " a percentage of them also securing prizes of various amounts. City of Paris Bonds issued on this system are very popular among French people with small savings; but, on the other hand, many ventures, whose lottery stock has been authorised by the Legislature, have come to grief and ruined investors. --Trans. 

 ** All who are acquainted with recent French history will be aware that Barroux' narrative is simply a passage from the life of the late M. Floquet, slightly modified to suit the requirements of M. Zola's story. --Trans. 

Then he sprang to his feet and struck his chest, whilst his voice againrose: "Well, I've had more than enough of all that calumny and falsehood!And I shall simply tell the Chamber my story to-morrow. It will be myonly defence. An honest man does not fear the truth!"

But Monferrand, in his turn, had sprung up with a cry which was acomplete confession of his principles: "It's ridiculous, one neverconfesses; you surely won't do such a thing!"

"I shall, " retorted Barroux with superb obstinacy. "And we shall see ifthe Chamber won't absolve me by acclamation. "

"No, you will fall beneath an explosion of hisses, and drag all of usdown with you. "

"What does it matter? We shall fall with dignity, like honest men!"

Monferrand made a gesture of furious anger, and then suddenly becamecalm. Amidst all the anxious confusion in which he had been strugglingsince daybreak, a gleam now dawned upon him. The vague ideas suggested bySalvat's approaching arrest took shape, and expanded into an audaciousscheme. Why should he prevent the fall of that big ninny Barroux? Theonly thing of importance was that he, Monferrand, should not fall withhim, or at any rate that he should rise again. So he protested nofurther, but merely mumbled a few words, in which his rebellious feelingseemingly died out. And at last, putting on his good-natured air oncemore, he said: "Well, after all you are perhaps right. One must be brave. Besides, you are our head, my dear President, and we will follow you. "

They had now again sat down face to face, and their conversationcontinued till they came to a cordial agreement respecting the coursewhich the Government should adopt in view of the inevitableinterpellation on the morrow. 

Meantime, Baron Duvillard was on his way to the ministry. He had scarcelyslept that night. When on the return from Montmartre Gerard had set himdown at his door in the Rue Godot-de-Mauroy, he had at once gone to bed, like a man who is determined to compel sleep, so that he may forget hisworries and recover self-control. But slumber would not come; for hoursand hours he vainly sought it. The manner in which he had been insultedby that creature Silviane was so monstrous! To think that she, whom hehad enriched, whose every desire he had contented, should have cast suchmud at him, the master, who flattered himself that he held Paris and theRepublic in his hands, since he bought up and controlled consciences justas others might make corners in wool or leather for the purposes ofBourse speculation. And the dim consciousness that Silviane was theavenging sore, the cancer preying on him who preyed on others, completedhis exasperation. In vain did he try to drive away his haunting thoughts, remember his business affairs, his appointments for the morrow, hismillions which were working in every quarter of the world, the financialomnipotence which placed the fate of nations in his grasp. Ever, and inspite of all, Silviane rose up before him, splashing him with mud. Indespair he tried to fix his mind on a great enterprise which he had beenplanning for months past, a Trans-Saharan railway, a colossal venturewhich would set millions of money at work, and revolutionise the trade ofthe world. And yet Silviane appeared once more, and smacked him on bothcheeks with her dainty little hand, which she had dipped in the gutter. It was only towards daybreak that he at last dozed off, while vowing in afury that he would never see her again, that he would spurn her, andorder her away, even should she come and drag herself at his feet. 

However, when he awoke at seven, still tired and aching, his firstthought was for her, and he almost yielded to a fit of weakness. The ideacame to him to ascertain if she had returned home, and if so make hispeace. But he jumped out of bed, and after his ablutions he recovered allhis bravery. She was a wretch, and he this time thought himself for evercured of his passion. To tell the truth, he forgot it as soon as heopened the morning newspapers. The publication of the list ofbribe-takers in the "Voix du Peuple" quite upset him, for he had hithertothought it unlikely that Sagnier held any such list. However, he judgedthe document at a glance, at once separating the few truths it containedfrom a mass of foolishness and falsehood. And this time also he did notconsider himself personally in danger. There was only one thing that hereally feared: the arrest of his intermediary, Hunter, whose trial mighthave drawn him into the affair. As matters stood, and as he did not ceaseto repeat with a calm and smiling air, he had merely done what everybanking-house does when it issues stock, that is, pay the press foradvertisements and puffery, employ brokers, and reward servicesdiscreetly rendered to the enterprise. It was all a business matter, andfor him that expression summed up everything. Moreover, he played thegame of life bravely, and spoke with indignant contempt of a banker who, distracted and driven to extremities by blackmailing, had imagined thathe would bring a recent scandal to an end by killing himself: a pitifultragedy, from all the mire and blood of which the scandal had sproutedafresh with the most luxuriant and indestructible vegetation. No, no!suicide was not the course to follow: a man ought to remain erect, andstruggle on to his very last copper, and the very end of his energy. 

At about nine o'clock a ringing brought Duvillard to the telephoneinstalled in his private room. And then his folly took possession of himonce more: it must be Silviane who wished to speak to him. She oftenamused herself by thus disturbing him amidst his greatest cares. No doubtshe had just returned home, realising that she had carried things too faron the previous evening and desiring to be forgiven. However, when hefound that the call was from Monferrand, who wished him to go to theministry, he shivered slightly, like a man saved from the abyss besidewhich he is travelling. And forthwith he called for his hat and stick, desirous as he was of walking and reflecting in the open air. And againhe became absorbed in the intricacies of the scandalous business whichwas about to stir all Paris and the legislature. Kill himself! ah, no, that would be foolish and cowardly. A gust of terror might be sweepingpast; nevertheless, for his part he felt quite firm, superior to events, and resolved to defend himself without relinquishing aught of his power. 

As soon as he entered the ante-rooms of the ministry he realised that thegust of terror was becoming a tempest. The publication of the terriblelist in the "Voix du Peuple" had chilled the guilty ones to the heart;and, pale and distracted, feeling the ground give way beneath them, theyhad come to take counsel of Monferrand, who, they hoped, might save them. The first whom Duvillard perceived was Duthil, looking extremelyfeverish, biting his moustaches, and constantly making grimaces in hisefforts to force a smile. The banker scolded him for coming, saying thatit was a great mistake to have done so, particularly with such a scaredface. The deputy, however, his spirits already cheered by these roughwords, began to defend himself, declaring that he had not even readSagnier's article, and had simply come to recommend a lady friend to theMinister. Thereupon the Baron undertook this business for him and senthim away with the wish that he might spend a merry mid-Lent. However, theone who most roused Duvillard's pity was Chaigneux, whose figure swayedabout as if bent by the weight of his long equine head, and who looked soshabby and untidy that one might have taken him for an old pauper. Onrecognising the banker he darted forward, and bowed to him withobsequious eagerness. 

"Ah! Monsieur le Baron, " said he, "how wicked some men must be! They arekilling me, I shall die of it all; and what will become of my wife, whatwill become of my three daughters, who have none but me to help them?"

The whole of his woeful story lay in that lament. A victim of politics, he had been foolish enough to quit Arras and his business there as asolicitor, in order to seek triumph in Paris with his wife and daughters, whose menial he had then become--a menial dismayed by the constantrebuffs and failures which his mediocrity brought upon him. An honestdeputy! ah, good heavens! yes, he would have liked to be one; but was henot perpetually "hard-up, " ever in search of a hundred-franc note, andthus, perforce, a deputy for sale? And withal he led such a pitiablelife, so badgered by the women folk about him, that to satisfy theirdemands he would have picked up money no matter where or how. 

"Just fancy, Monsieur le Baron, I have at last found a husband for myeldest girl. It is the first bit of luck that I have ever had; there willonly be three women left on my hands if it comes off. But you can imaginewhat a disastrous impression such an article as that of this morning mustcreate in the young man's family. So I have come to see the Minister tobeg him to give my future son-in-law a prefectoral secretaryship. I havealready promised him the post, and if I can secure it things may yet bearranged. "

He looked so terribly shabby and spoke in such a doleful voice that itoccurred to Duvillard to do one of those good actions on which heventured at times when they were likely to prove remunerativeinvestments. It is, indeed, an excellent plan to give a crust of bread tosome poor devil whom one can turn, if necessary, into a valet or anaccomplice. So the banker dismissed Chaigneux, undertaking to do hisbusiness for him in the same way as he had undertaken to do Duthil's. Andhe added that he would be pleased to see him on the morrow, and have achat with him, as he might be able to help him in the matter of hisdaughter's marriage. 

At this Chaigneux, scenting a loan, collapsed into the most lavishthanks. "Ah! Monsieur le Baron, my life will not be long enough to enableme to repay such a debt of gratitude. "

As Duvillard turned round he was surprised to see Abbe Froment waiting ina corner of the ante-room. Surely that one could not belong to the batchof /suspects/, although by the manner in which he was pretending to reada newspaper it seemed as if he were trying to hide some keen anxiety. Atlast the Baron stepped forward, shook hands, and spoke to him cordially. And Pierre thereupon related that he had received a letter requesting himto call on the Minister that day. Why, he could not tell; in fact, he wasgreatly surprised, he said, putting on a smile in order to conceal hisdisquietude. He had been waiting a long time already, and hoped that hewould not be forgotten on that bench. 

Just then the usher appeared, and hastened up to the banker. "TheMinister, " said he, "was at that moment engaged with the President of theCouncil; but he had orders to admit the Baron as soon as the Presidentwithdrew. " Almost immediately afterwards Barroux came out, and asDuvillard was about to enter he recognised and detained him. And he spokeof the denunciations very bitterly, like one indignant with all theslander. Would not he, Duvillard, should occasion require it, testifythat he, Barroux, had never taken a centime for himself? Then, forgettingthat he was speaking to a banker, and that he was Minister of Finances, he proceeded to express all his disgust of money. Ah! what poisonous, murky, and defiling waters were those in which money-making went on!However, he repeated that he would chastise his insulters, and that astatement of the truth would suffice for the purpose. 

Duvillard listened and looked at him. And all at once the thought ofSilviane came back, and took possession of the Baron, without any attempton his part to drive it away. He reflected that if Barroux had chosen togive him a helping hand when he had asked for it, Silviane would now havebeen at the Comedie Francaise, in which case the deplorable affair of theprevious night would not have occurred; for he was beginning to regardhimself as guilty in the matter; if he had only contented Silviane's whimshe would never have dismissed him in so vile a fashion. 

"You know, I owe you a grudge, " he said, interrupting Barroux. 

The other looked at him in astonishment. "And why, pray?" he asked. 

"Why, because you never helped me in the matter of that friend of minewho wishes to make her /debut/ in 'Polyeucte. '"

Barroux smiled, and with amiable condescension replied: "Ah! yes, Silviane d'Aulnay! But, my dear sir, it was Taboureau who put spokes inthe wheel. The Fine Arts are his department, and the question wasentirely one for him. And I could do nothing; for that very worthy andhonest gentleman, who came to us from a provincial faculty, was full ofscruples. For my own part I'm an old Parisian, I can understand anything, and I should have been delighted to please you. "

At this fresh resistance offered to his passion Duvillard once morebecame excited, eager to obtain that which was denied him. "Taboureau, Taboureau!" said he, "he's a nice deadweight for you to load yourselfwith! Honest! isn't everybody honest? Come, my dear Minister, there'sstill time, get Silviane admitted, it will bring you good luck forto-morrow. "

This time Barroux burst into a frank laugh: "No, no, I can't castTaboureau adrift at this moment--people would make too much sport ofit--a ministry wrecked or saved by a Silviane question!"

Then he offered his hand before going off. The Baron pressed it, and fora moment retained it in his own, whilst saying very gravely and with asomewhat pale face: "You do wrong to laugh, my dear Minister. Governmentshave fallen or set themselves erect again through smaller matters thanthat. And should you fall to-morrow I trust that you will never haveoccasion to regret it. "

Wounded to the heart by the other's jesting air, exasperated by the ideathat there was something he could not achieve, Duvillard watched Barrouxas he withdrew. Most certainly the Baron did not desire a reconciliationwith Silviane, but he vowed that he would overturn everything ifnecessary in order to send her a signed engagement for the Comedie, andthis simply by way of vengeance, as a slap, so to say, --yes, a slap whichwould make her tingle! That moment spent with Barroux had been a decisiveone. 

However, whilst still following Barroux with his eyes, Duvillard wassurprised to see Fonsegue arrive and manoeuvre in such a way as to escapethe Prime Minister's notice. He succeeded in doing so, and then enteredthe ante-room with an appearance of dismay about the whole of his littlefigure, which was, as a rule, so sprightly. It was the gust of terror, still blowing, that had brought him thither. 

"Didn't you see your friend Barroux?" the Baron asked him, somewhatpuzzled. 

"Barroux? No!"

This quiet lie was equivalent to a confession of everything. Fonsegue wasso intimate with Barroux that he thee'd and thou'd him, and for ten yearshad been supporting him in his newspaper, having precisely the sameviews, the same political religion. But with a smash-up threatening, hedoubtless realised, thanks to his wonderfully keen scent, that he mustchange his friendships if he did not wish to remain under the ruinshimself. If he had, for long years, shown so much prudence and diplomaticvirtue in order to firmly establish the most dignified and respected ofParisian newspapers, it was not for the purpose of letting that newspaperbe compromised by some foolish blunder on the part of an honest man. 

"I thought you were on bad terms with Monferrand, " resumed Duvillard. "What have you come here for?"

"Oh! my dear Baron, the director of a leading newspaper is never on badterms with anybody. He's at the country's service. "

In spite of his emotion, Duvillard could not help smiling. "You areright, " he responded. "Besides, Monferrand is really an able man, whomone can support without fear. "

At this Fonsegue began to wonder whether his anguish of mind was visible. He, who usually played the game of life so well, with his own hand underthorough control, had been terrified by the article in the "Voix duPeuple. " For the first time in his career he had perpetrated a blunder, and felt that he was at the mercy of some denunciation, for withunpardonable imprudence he had written a very brief but compromisingnote. He was not anxious concerning the 50, 000 francs which Barroux hadhanded him out of the 200, 000 destined for the Republican press. But hetrembled lest another affair should be discovered, that of a sum of moneywhich he had received as a present. It was only on feeling the Baron'skeen glance upon him that he was able to recover some self-possession. How silly it was to lose the knack of lying and to confess things simplyby one's demeanour!

But the usher drew near and repeated that the Minister was now waitingfor the Baron; and Fonsegue went to sit down beside Abbe Froment, whom healso was astonished to find there. Pierre repeated that he had received aletter, but had no notion what the Minister might wish to say to him. Andthe quiver of his hands again revealed how feverishly impatient he was toknow what it might be. However, he could only wait, since Monferrand wasstill busy discussing such grave affairs. 

On seeing Duvillard enter, the Minister had stepped forward, offering hishand. However much the blast of terror might shake others, he hadretained his calmness and good-natured smile. "What an affair, eh, mydear Baron!" he exclaimed. 

"It's idiotic!" plainly declared the other, with a shrug of hisshoulders. Then he sat down in the armchair vacated by Barroux, while theMinister installed himself in front of him. These two were made tounderstand one another, and they indulged in the same despairing gesturesand furious complaints, declaring that government, like business, wouldno longer be possible if men were required to show such virtue as theydid not possess. At all times, and under every /regime/, when a decisionof the Chambers had been required in connection with some greatenterprise, had not the natural and legitimate tactics been for one to dowhat might be needful to secure that decision? It was absolutelynecessary that one should obtain influential and sympathetic support, ina word, make sure of votes. Well, everything had to be paid for, men likeother things, some with fine words, others with favours or money, presents made in a more or less disguised manner. And even admittingthat, in the present cases, one had gone rather far in the purchasing, that some of the bartering had been conducted in an imprudent way, was itwise to make such an uproar over it? Would not a strong government havebegun by stifling the scandal, from motives of patriotism, a mere senseof cleanliness even?

"Why, of course! You are right, a thousand times right!" exclaimedMonferrand. "Ah! if I were the master you would see what a finefirst-class funeral I would give it all!" Then, as Duvillard looked athim fixedly, struck by these last words, he added with his expressivesmile: "Unfortunately I'm not the master, and it was to talk to you ofthe situation that I ventured to disturb you. Barroux, who was here justnow, seemed to me in a regrettable frame of mind. "

"Yes, I saw him, he has such singular ideas at times--" Then, breakingoff, the Baron added: "Do you know that Fonsegue is in the ante-room? Ashe wishes to make his peace with you, why not send for him? He won't bein the way, in fact, he's a man of good counsel, and the support of hisnewspaper often suffices to give one the victory. "

"What, is Fonsegue there!" cried Monferrand. "Why, I don't ask betterthan to shake hands with him. There were some old affairs between us thatdon't concern anybody! But, good heavens! if you only knew what littlespite I harbour!"

When the usher had admitted Fonsegue the reconciliation took place in thesimplest fashion. They had been great friends at college in their nativeCorreze, but had not spoken together for ten years past in consequence ofsome abominable affair the particulars of which were not exactly known. However, it becomes necessary to clear away all corpses when one wishesto have the arena free for a fresh battle. 

"It's very good of you to come back the first, " said Monferrand. "So it'sall over, you no longer bear me any grudge?"

"No, indeed!" replied Fonsegue. "Why should people devour one anotherwhen it would be to their interest to come to an understanding?"

Then, without further explanations, they passed to the great affair, andthe conference began. And when Monferrand had announced Barroux'determination to confess and explain his conduct, the others loudlyprotested. That meant certain downfall, they would prevent him, he surelywould not be guilty of such folly. Forthwith they discussed everyimaginable plan by which the Ministry might be saved, for that mustcertainly be Monferrand's sole desire. He himself with all eagernesspretended to seek some means of extricating his colleagues and himselffrom the mess in which they were. However, a faint smile, still playedaround his lips, and at last as if vanquished he sought no further. "There's no help for it, " said he, "the ministry's down. "

The others exchanged glances, full of anxiety at the thought of anotherCabinet dealing with the African Railways affair. A Vignon Cabinet woulddoubtless plume itself on behaving honestly. 

"Well, then, what shall we do?"

But just then the telephone rang, and Monferrand rose to respond to thesummons: "Allow me. "

He listened for a moment and then spoke into the tube, nothing that hesaid giving the others any inkling of the information which had reachedhim. This had come from the Chief of the Detective Police, and was to theeffect that Salvat's whereabouts in the Bois de Boulogne had beendiscovered, and that he would be hunted down with all speed. "Very good!And don't forget my orders, " replied Monferrand. 

Now that Salvat's arrest was certain, the Minister determined to followthe plan which had gradually taken shape in his mind; and returning tothe middle of the room he slowly walked to and fro, while saying with hiswonted familiarity: "But what would you have, my friends? It would benecessary for me to be the master. Ah! if I were the master! A Commissionof Inquiry, yes! that's the proper form for a first-class funeral to takein a big affair like this, so full of nasty things. For my part, I shouldconfess nothing, and I should have a Commission appointed. And then youwould see the storm subside. "

Duvillard and Fonsegue began to laugh. The latter, however, thanks to hisintimate knowledge of Monferrand, almost guessed the truth. "Justlisten!" said he; "even if the ministry falls it doesn't necessarilyfollow that you must be on the ground with it. Besides, a ministry can bemended when there are good pieces of it left. "

Somewhat anxious at finding his thoughts guessed, Monferrand protested:"No, no, my dear fellow, I don't play that game. We are jointlyresponsible, we've got to keep together, dash it all!"

"Keep together! Pooh! Not when simpletons purposely drown themselves!And, besides, if we others have need of you, we have a right to save youin spite of yourself! Isn't that so, my dear Baron?"

Then, as Monferrand sat down, no longer protesting but waiting, Duvillard, who was again thinking of his passion, full of anger at therecollection of Barroux' refusal, rose in his turn, and exclaimed: "Why, certainly! If the ministry's condemned let it fall! What good can you getout of a ministry which includes such a man as Taboureau! There you havean old, worn-out professor without any prestige, who comes to Paris fromGrenoble, and has never set foot in a theatre in his life! Yet thecontrol of the theatres is handed over to him, and naturally he's everdoing the most stupid things!"

Monferrand, who was well informed on the Silviane question, remainedgrave, and for a moment amused himself by trying to excite the Baron. "Taboureau, " said he, "is a somewhat dull and old-fashioned Universityman, but at the department of Public Instruction he's in his properelement. "

"Oh! don't talk like that, my dear fellow! You are more intelligent thanthat, you are not going to defend Taboureau as Barroux did. It's quitetrue that I should very much like to see Silviane at the Comedie. She's avery good girl at heart, and she has an amazing lot of talent. Would youstand in her way if you were in Taboureau's place?"

"I? Good heavens, no! A pretty girl on the stage, why, it would pleaseeverybody, I'm sure. Only it would be necessary to have a man of the sameviews as were at the department of Instruction and Fine Arts. "

His sly smile had returned to his face. The securing of that girl's/debut/ was certainly not a high price to pay for all the influence ofDuvillard's millions. Monferrand therefore turned towards Fonsegue as ifto consult him. The other, who fully understood the importance of theaffair, was meditating in all seriousness: "A senator is the proper manfor Public Instruction, " said he. "But I can think of none, none at all, such as would be wanted. A man of broad mind, a real Parisian, and yetone whose presence at the head of the University wouldn't cause too muchastonishment--there's perhaps Dauvergne--"

"Dauvergne! Who's he?" exclaimed Monferrand in surprise. "Ah! yes, Dauvergne the senator for Dijon--but he's altogether ignorant ofUniversity matters, he hasn't the slightest qualification. "

"Well, as for that, " resumed Fonsegue, "I'm trying to think. Dauvergne iscertainly a good-looking fellow, tall and fair and decorative. Besides, he's immensely rich, has a most charming young wife--which does no harm, on the contrary--and he gives real /fetes/ at his place on the BoulevardSt. Germain. "

It was only with hesitation that Fonsegue himself had ventured to suggestDauvergne. But by degrees his selection appeared to him a real "find. ""Wait a bit! I recollect now that in his young days Dauvergne wrote acomedy, a one act comedy in verse, and had it performed at Dijon. AndDijon's a literary town, you know, so that piece of his sets a littleperfume of 'Belles-Lettres' around him. And then, too, he left Dijontwenty years ago, and is a most determined Parisian, frequenting everysphere of society. Dauvergne will do whatever one desires. He's the manfor us, I tell you. "

Duvillard thereupon declared that he knew him, and considered him a verydecent fellow. Besides, he or another, it mattered nothing!

"Dauvergne, Dauvergne, " repeated Monferrand. "/Mon Dieu/, yes! After all, why not? He'll perhaps make a very good minister. Let us say Dauvergne. "Then suddenly bursting into a hearty laugh: "And so we are reconstructingthe Cabinet in order that that charming young woman may join the Comedie!The Silviane cabinet--well, and what about the other departments?"

He jested, well knowing that gaiety often hastens difficult solutions. And, indeed, they merrily continued settling what should be done if theministry were defeated on the morrow. Although they had not plainly saidso the plan was to let Barroux sink, even help him to do so, and thenfish Monferrand out of the troubled waters. The latter engaged himselfwith the two others, because he had need of them, the Baron on account ofhis financial sovereignty, and the director of "Le Globe" on account ofthe press campaign which he could carry on in his favour. And in the sameway the others, quite apart from the Silviane business, had need ofMonferrand, the strong-handed man of government, who undertook to burythe African Railways scandal by bringing about a Commission of Inquiry, all the strings of which would be pulled by himself. There was soon aperfect understanding between the three men, for nothing draws peoplemore closely together than common interest, fear and need. Accordingly, when Duvillard spoke of Duthil's business, the young lady whom he wishedto recommend, the Minister declared that it was settled. A very nicefellow was Duthil, they needed a good many like him. And it was alsoagreed that Chaigneux' future son-in-law should have his secretaryship. Poor Chaigneux! He was so devoted, always ready to undertake anycommission, and his four women folk led him such a hard life!

"Well, then, it's understood. " And Monferrand, Duvillard and Fonseguevigorously shook hands. 

However, when the first accompanied the others to the door, he noticed aprelate, in a cassock of fine material, edged with violet, speaking to apriest in the ante-room. Thereupon he, the Minister, hastened forward, looking much distressed. "Ah! you were waiting, Monseigneur Martha! Comein, come in quick!"

But with perfect urbanity the Bishop refused. "No, no, Monsieur l'AbbeFroment was here before me. Pray receive him first. "

Monferrand had to give way; he admitted the priest, and speedily dealtwith him. He who usually employed the most diplomatic reserve when he wasin presence of a member of the clergy plumply unfolded the Barthesbusiness. Pierre had experienced the keenest anguish during the two hoursthat he had been waiting there, for he could only explain the letter hehad received by a surmise that the police had discovered his brother'spresence in his house. And so when he heard the Minister simply speak ofBarthes, and declare that the government would rather see him go intoexile than be obliged to imprison him once more, he remained for a momentquite disconcerted. As the police had been able to discover the oldconspirator in the little house at Neuilly, how was it that they seemedaltogether ignorant of Guillaume's presence there? It was, however, theusual gap in the genius of great detectives. 

"Pray what do you desire of me, Monsieur le Ministre?" said Pierre atlast; "I don't quite understand. "

"Why, Monsieur l'Abbe, I leave all this to your sense of prudence. Ifthat man were still at your house in forty-eight hours from now, weshould be obliged to arrest him there, which would be a source of griefto us, for we are aware that your residence is the abode of every virtue. So advise him to leave France. If he does that we shall not trouble him. "

Then Monferrand hastily brought Pierre back to the ante-room; and, smiling and bending low, he said: "Monseigneur, I am entirely at yourdisposal. Come in, come in, I beg you. "

The prelate, who was gaily chatting with Duvillard and Fonsegue, shookhands with them, and then with Pierre. In his desire to win all hearts, he that morning displayed the most perfect graciousness. His bright, black eyes were all smiles, the whole of his handsome face wore acaressing expression, and he entered the ministerial sanctum leisurelyand gracefully, with an easy air of conquest. 

And now only Monferrand and Monseigneur Martha were left, talking on andon in the deserted building. Some people had thought that the prelatewished to become a deputy. But he played a far more useful and lofty partin governing behind the scenes, in acting as the directing mind of theVatican's policy in France. Was not France still the Eldest Daughter ofthe Church, the only great nation which might some day restoreomnipotence to the Papacy? For that reason he had accepted the Republic, preached the duty of "rallying" to it, and inspired the new Catholicgroup in the Chamber. And Monferrand, on his side, struck by the progressof the New Spirit, that reaction of mysticism which flattered itself thatit would bury science, showed the prelate much amiability, like astrong-handed man who, to ensure his own victory, utilised every forcethat was offered him. 

IV

THE MAN HUNT

ON the afternoon of that same day such a keen desire for space and theopen air came upon Guillaume, that Pierre consented to accompany him on along walk in the Bois de Boulogne. The priest, upon returning from hisinterview with Monferrand, had informed his brother that the governmentonce more wished to get rid of Nicholas Barthes. However, they were soperplexed as to how they should impart these tidings to the old man, thatthey resolved to postpone the matter until the evening. During their walkthey might devise some means of breaking the news in a gentle way. As forthe walk, this seemed to offer no danger; to all appearance Guillaume wasin no wise threatened, so why should he continue hiding? Thus thebrothers sallied forth and entered the Bois by the Sablons gate, whichwas the nearest to them. 

The last days of March had now come, and the trees were beginning to showsome greenery, so soft and light, however, that one might have thought itwas pale moss or delicate lace hanging between the stems and boughs. Although the sky remained of an ashen grey, the rain, after fallingthroughout the night and morning, had ceased; and exquisite freshnesspervaded that wood now awakening to life once more, with its foliagedripping in the mild and peaceful atmosphere. The mid-Lent rejoicings hadapparently attracted the populace to the centre of Paris, for in theavenues one found only the fashionable folks of select days, the peopleof society who come thither when the multitude stops away. There werecarriages and gentlemen on horseback; beautiful aristocratic ladies whohad alighted from their broughams or landaus; and wet-nurses withstreaming ribbons, who carried infants wearing the most costly lace. Ofthe middle-classes, however, one found only a few matrons living in theneighbourhood, who sat here and there on the benches busy with embroideryor watching their children play. 

Pierre and Guillaume followed the Allee de Longchamp as far as the roadgoing from Madrid to the lakes. Then they took their way under the trees, alongside the little Longchamp rivulet. They wished to reach the lakes, pass round them, and return home by way of the Maillot gate. But socharming and peaceful was the deserted plantation through which theypassed, that they yielded to a desire to sit down and taste the delightof resting amidst all the budding springtide around them. A fallen treeserved them as a bench, and it was possible for them to fancy themselvesfar away from Paris, in the depths of some real forest. It was, too, of areal forest that Guillaume began to think on thus emerging from his long, voluntary imprisonment. Ah! for the space; and for the health-bringingair which courses between that forest's branches, that forest of theworld which by right should be man's inalienable domain! However, thename of Barthes, the perpetual prisoner, came back to Guillaume's lips, and he sighed mournfully. The thought that there should be even a singleman whose liberty was thus ever assailed, sufficed to poison the pureatmosphere he breathed. 

"What will you say to Barthes?" he asked his brother. "The poor fellowmust necessarily be warned. Exile is at any rate preferable toimprisonment. "

Pierre sadly waved his hand. "Yes, of course, I must warn him. But what apainful task it is!"

Guillaume made no rejoinder, for at that very moment, in that remote, deserted nook, where they could fancy themselves at the world's end, amost extraordinary spectacle was presented to their view. Something orrather someone leapt out of a thicket and bounded past them. It wasassuredly a man, but one who was so unrecognisable, so miry, so woefuland so frightful, that he might have been taken for an animal, a boarthat hounds had tracked and forced from his retreat. On seeing therivulet, he hesitated for a moment, and then followed its course. But, all at once, as a sound of footsteps and panting breath drew nearer, hesprang into the water, which reached his thighs, bounded on to thefurther bank, and vanished from sight behind a clump of pines. A momentafterwards some keepers and policemen rushed by, skirting the rivulet, and in their turn disappearing. It was a man hunt that had gone past, afierce, secret hunt with no display of scarlet or blast of horns athwartthe soft, sprouting foliage. 

"Some rascal or other, " muttered Pierre. "Ah! the wretched fellow!"

Guillaume made a gesture of discouragement. "Gendarmes and prison!" saidhe. "They still constitute society's only schooling system!"

Meantime the man was still running on, farther and farther away. 

When, on the previous night, Salvat had suddenly escaped from thedetectives by bounding into the Bois de Boulogne, it had occurred to himto slip round to the Dauphine gate and there descend into the deep ditch*of the city ramparts. He remembered days of enforced idleness which hehad spent there, in nooks where, for his own part, he had never met aliving soul. Nowhere, indeed, could one find more secret places ofretreat, hedged round by thicker bushes, or concealed from view byloftier herbage. Some corners of the ditch, at certain angles of themassive bastions, are favourite dens or nests for thieves and lovers. Salvat, as he made his way through the thickest of the brambles, nettlesand ivy, was lucky enough to find a cavity full of dry leaves, in whichhe buried himself to the chin. The rain had already drenched him, andafter slipping down the muddy slope, he had frequently been obliged togrope his way upon all fours. So those dry leaves proved a boon such ashe had not dared to hope for. They dried him somewhat, serving as ablanket in which he coiled himself after his wild race through the dankdarkness. The rain still fell, but he now only felt it on his head, and, weary as he was, he gradually sank into deep slumber beneath thecontinuous drizzle. When he opened his eyes again, the dawn was breaking, and it was probably about six o'clock. During his sleep the rain hadended by soaking the leaves, so that he was now immersed in a kind ofchilly bath. Still he remained in it, feeling that he was there shelteredfrom the police, who must now surely be searching for him. None of thosebloodhounds would guess his presence in that hole, for his body was quiteburied, and briers almost completely hid his head. So he did not stir, but watched the rise of the dawn. 

 * This ditch or dry moat is about 30 feet deep and 50 feet wide. The counterscarp by which one may descend into it has an angle of 45 degrees. --Trans. 

When at eight o'clock some policemen and keepers came by, searching theditch, they did not perceive him. As he had anticipated, the hunt hadbegun at the first glimmer of light. For a time his heart beat violently;however, nobody else passed, nothing whatever stirred the grass. The onlysounds that reached him were faint ones from the Bois de Boulogne, thering of a bicyclist's bell, the thud of a horse's hoofs, the rumble ofcarriage wheels. And time went by, nine o'clock came, and then teno'clock. Since the rain had ceased falling, Salvat had not suffered somuch from the cold, for he was wearing a thick overcoat which littleMathis had given him. But, on the other hand, hunger was coming back;there was a burning sensation in his stomach, and leaden hoops seemed tobe pressing against his ribs. He had eaten nothing for two days; he hadbeen starving already on the previous evening, when he had accepted aglass of beer at that tavern at Montmartre. Nevertheless, his plan was toremain in the ditch until nightfall, and then slip away in the directionof the village of Boulogne, where he knew of a means of egress from thewood. He was not caught yet, he repeated, he might still manage toescape. Then he tried to get to sleep again, but failed, so painful hadhis sufferings become. By the time it was eleven, everything swam beforehis eyes. He once nearly fainted, and thought that he was going to die. Then rage gradually mastered him, and, all at once, he sprang out of hisleafy hiding-place, desperately hungering for food, unable to remainthere any longer, and determined to find something to eat, even should itcost him his liberty and life. It was then noon. 

On leaving the ditch he found the spreading lawns of the chateau of LaMuette before him. He crossed them at a run, like a madman, instinctivelygoing towards Boulogne, with the one idea that his only means of escapelay in that direction. It seemed miraculous that nobody paid attention tohis helter-skelter flight. However, when he had reached the cover of sometrees he became conscious of his imprudence, and almost regretted thesudden madness which had borne him along, eager for escape. Tremblingnervously, he bent low among some furze bushes, and waited for a fewminutes to ascertain if the police were behind him. Then with watchfuleye and ready ear, wonderful instinct and scent of danger, he slowly wenthis way again. He hoped to pass between the upper lake and the Auteuilrace-course; but there were few trees in that part, and they formed abroad avenue. He therefore had to exert all his skill in order to avoidobservation, availing himself of the slenderest stems, the smallestbushes, as screens, and only venturing onward after a lengthy inspectionof his surroundings. Before long the sight of a guard in the distancerevived his fears and detained him, stretched on the ground behind somebrambles, for a full quarter of an hour. Then the approach first of acab, whose driver had lost his way, and afterwards of a strollingpedestrian, in turn sufficed to stop him. He breathed once more, however, when, after passing the Mortemart hillock, he was able to enter thethickets lying between the two roads which lead to Boulogne and St. Cloud. The coppices thereabouts were dense, and he merely had to followthem, screened from view, in order to reach the outlet he knew of, whichwas now near at hand. So he was surely saved. 

But all at once, at a distance of some five and thirty yards, he saw akeeper, erect and motionless, barring his way. He turned slightly to theleft and there perceived another keeper, who also seemed to be awaitinghim. And there were more and more of them; at every fifty paces or sostood a fresh one, the whole forming a /cordon/, the meshes as it were ofa huge net. The worst was that he must have been perceived, for a lightcry, like the clear call of an owl, rang out, and was repeated fartherand farther off. The hunters were at last on the right scent, prudencehad become superfluous, and it was only by flight that the quarry mightnow hope to escape. Salvat understood this so well that he suddenly beganto run, leaping over all obstacles and darting between the trees, careless whether he were seen or heard. A few bounds carried him acrossthe Avenue de St. Cloud into the plantations stretching to the Allee dela Reine Marguerite. There the undergrowth was very dense; in the wholeBois there are no more closely set thickets. In summer they become onevast entanglement of verdure, amidst which, had it been the leafy season, Salvat might well have managed to secrete himself. For a moment he didfind himself alone, and thereupon he halted to listen. He could neithersee nor hear the keepers now. Had they lost his track, then? Profoundquietude reigned under the fresh young foliage. But the light, owlish cryarose once more, branches cracked, and he resumed his wild flight, hurrying straight before him. Unluckily he found the Allee de la ReineMarguerite guarded by policemen, so that he could not cross over, but hadto skirt it without quitting the thickets. And now his back was turnedtowards Boulogne; he was retracing his steps towards Paris. However, alast idea came to his bewildered mind: it was to run on in this wise asfar as the shady spots around Madrid, and then, by stealing from copse tocopse, attempt to reach the Seine. To proceed thither across the bareexpanse of the race-course and training ground was not for a moment to bethought of. 

So Salvat still ran on and on. But on reaching the Allee de Longchamp hefound it guarded like the other roads, and therefore had to relinquishhis plan of escaping by way of Madrid and the river-bank. While he wasperforce making a bend alongside the Pre Catelan, he became aware thatthe keepers, led by detectives, were drawing yet nearer to him, confininghis movements to a smaller and smaller area. And his race soon acquiredall the frenzy of despair. Haggard and breathless he leapt mounds, rushedpast multitudinous obstacles. He forced a passage through brambles, brokedown palings, thrice caught his feet in wire work which he had not seen, and fell among nettles, yet picked himself up went on again, spurred bythe stinging of his hands and face. It was then Guillaume and Pierre sawhim pass, unrecognisable and frightful, taking to the muddy water of therivulet like a stag which seeks to set a last obstacle between itself andthe hounds. There came to him a wild idea of getting to the lake, andswimming, unperceived, to the island in the centre of it. That, he madlythought, would be a safe retreat, where he might burrow and hide himselfwithout possibility of discovery. And so he still ran on. But once againthe sight of some guards made him retrace his steps, and he was compelledto go back and back in the direction of Paris, chased, forced towards thevery fortifications whence he had started that morning. It was now nearlythree in the afternoon. For more than two hours and a half he had beenrunning. 

At last he saw a soft, sandy ride for horsemen before him. He crossed it, splashing through the mire left by the rain, and reached a littlepathway, a delightful lovers' lane, as shady in summer as any arbour. Forsome time he was able to follow it, concealed from observation, and withhis hopes reviving. But it led him to one of those broad, straightavenues where carriages and bicycles, the whole afternoon pageant ofsociety, swept past under the mild and cloudy sky. So he returned to thethickets, fell once more upon the keepers, lost all notion of thedirection he took, and even all power of thought, becoming a mere thingcarried along and thrown hither and thither by the chances of the pursuitwhich pressed more and more closely upon him. Star-like crosswaysfollowed one upon other, and at last he came to a broad lawn, where thefull light dazzled him. And there he suddenly felt the hot, pantingbreath of his pursuers close in the rear. Eager, hungry breath it was, like that of hounds seeking to devour him. Shouts rang out, one handalmost caught hold of him, there was a rush of heavy feet, a scramble toseize him. But with a supreme effort he leapt upon a bank, crawled to itssummit, rose again, and once more found himself alone, still running onamid the fresh and quiet greenery. 

Nevertheless, this was the end. He almost fell flat upon the ground. Hisaching feet could no longer carry him; blood was oozing from his ears, and froth had come to his mouth. His heart beat with such violence thatit seemed likely to break his ribs. Water and perspiration streamed fromhim, he was miry and haggard and tortured by hunger, conquered, in fact, more by hunger than by fatigue. And through the mist which seemed to havegathered before his wild eyes, he suddenly saw an open doorway, thedoorway of a coach-house in the rear of a kind of chalet, sequesteredamong trees. Excepting a big white cat, which took to flight, there wasnot a living creature in the place. Salvat plunged into it and rolledover on a heap of straw, among some empty casks. He was scarcely hiddenthere when he heard the chase sweep by, the detectives and the keeperslosing scent, passing the chalet and rushing in the direction of theParis ramparts. The noise of their heavy boots died away, and deepsilence fell, while the hunted man, who had carried both hands to hisheart to stay its beating, sank into the most complete prostration, withbig tears trickling from his closed eyes. 

Whilst all this was going on, Pierre and Guillaume, after a brief rest, had resumed their walk, reaching the lake and proceeding towards thecrossway of the Cascades, in order to return to Neuilly by the roadbeyond the water. However, a shower fell, compelling them to take shelterunder the big leafless branches of a chestnut-tree. Then, as the raincame down more heavily and they could perceive a kind of chalet, a littlecafe-restaurant amid a clump of trees, they hastened thither for betterprotection. In a side road, which they passed on their way, they saw acab standing, its driver waiting there in philosophical fashion under thefalling shower. Pierre, moreover, noticed a young man stepping outbriskly in front of them, a young man resembling Gerard de Quinsac, who, whilst walking in the Bois, had no doubt been overtaken by the rain, andlike themselves was seeking shelter in the chalet. However, on enteringthe latter's public room, the priest saw no sign of the gentleman, andconcluded that he must have been mistaken. This public room, which had akind of glazed verandah overlooking the Bois, contained a few chairs andtables, the latter with marble tops. On the first floor there were fouror five private rooms reached by a narrow passage. Though the doors wereopen the place had as yet scarcely emerged from its winter's rest. Therewas nobody about, and on all sides one found the dampness common toestablishments which, from lack of custom, are compelled to close fromNovember until March. In the rear were some stables, a coach-house, andvarious mossy, picturesque outbuildings, which painters and gardenerswould now soon embellish for the gay pleasure parties which the fineweather would bring. 

"I really think that they haven't opened for the season yet, " saidGuillaume as he entered the silent house. 

"At all events they will let us stay here till the rain stops, " answeredPierre, seating himself at one of the little tables. 

However, a waiter suddenly made his appearance seemingly in a greathurry. He had come down from the first floor, and eagerly rummaged acupboard for a few dry biscuits, which he laid upon a plate. At last hecondescended to serve the brothers two glasses of Chartreuse. 

In one of the private rooms upstairs Baroness Duvillard, who had drivento the chalet in a cab, had been awaiting her lover Gerard for nearlyhalf an hour. It was there that, during the charity bazaar, they hadgiven each other an appointment. For them the chalet had preciousmemories: two years previously, on discovering that secluded nest, whichwas so deserted in the early, hesitating days of chilly spring, they hadmet there under circumstances which they could not forget. And theBaroness, in choosing the house for the supreme assignation of theirdying passion, had certainly not been influenced merely by a fear thatshe might be spied upon elsewhere. She had, indeed, thought of the firstkisses that had been showered on her there, and would fain have revivedthem even if they should now prove the last that Gerard would bestow onher. 

But she would also have liked to see some sunlight playing over theyouthful foliage. The ashen sky and threatening rain saddened her. Andwhen she entered the private room she did not recognise it, so cold anddim it seemed with its faded furniture. Winter had tarried there, withall the dampness and mouldy smell peculiar to rooms which have longremained closed. Then, too, some of the wall paper which had come awayfrom the plaster hung down in shreds, dead flies were scattered over theparquetry flooring; and in order to open the shutters the waiter had toengage in a perfect fight with their fastenings. However, when he hadlighted a little gas-stove, which at once flamed up and diffused somewarmth, the room became more cosy. 

Eve had seated herself on a chair, without raising the thick veil whichhid her face. Gowned, gloved, and bonneted in black, as if she werealready in mourning for her last passion, she showed naught of her ownperson save her superb fair hair, which glittered like a helm of tawnygold. She had ordered tea for two, and when the waiter brought it with alittle plateful of dry biscuits, left, no doubt, from the previousseason, he found her in the same place, still veiled and motionless, absorbed, it seemed, in a gloomy reverie. If she had reached the cafehalf an hour before the appointed time it was because she desired someleisure and opportunity to overcome her despair and compose herself. Sheresolved that of all things she would not weep, that she would remaindignified and speak calmly, like one who, whatever rights she mightpossess, preferred to appeal to reason only. And she was well pleasedwith the courage that she found within her. Whilst thinking of what sheshould say to dissuade Gerard from a marriage which to her mind wouldprove both a calamity and a blunder, she fancied herself very calm, indeed almost resigned to whatsoever might happen. 

But all at once she started and began to tremble. Gerard was entering theroom. 

"What! are you here the first, my dear?" he exclaimed. "I thought that Imyself was ten minutes before the time! And you've ordered some tea andare waiting for me!"

He forced a smile as he spoke, striving to display the same delight atseeing her as he had shown in the early golden days of their passion. Butat heart he was much embarrassed, and he shuddered at the thought of theawful scene which he could foresee. 

She had at last risen and raised her veil. And looking at him shestammered: "Yes, I found myself at liberty earlier than I expected. . . . I feared some impediment might arise . . . And so I came. "

Then, seeing how handsome and how affectionate he still looked, she couldnot restrain her passion. All her skilful arguments, all her fineresolutions, were swept away. Her flesh irresistibly impelled her towardshim; she loved him, she would keep him, she would never surrender him toanother. And she wildly flung her arms around his neck. 

"Oh! Gerard, Gerard! I suffer too cruelly; I cannot, I cannot bear it!Tell me at once that you will not marry her, that you will never marryher!"

Her voice died away in a sob, tears started from her eyes. Ah! thosetears which she had sworn she would never shed! They gushed forth withoutcessation, they streamed from her lovely eyes like a flood of thebitterest grief. 

"My daughter, O God! What! you would marry my daughter! She, here, onyour neck where I am now! No, no, such torture is past endurance, it mustnot be, I will not have it!"

He shivered as he heard that cry of frantic jealousy raised by a motherwho now was but a woman, maddened by the thought of her rival's youth, those five and twenty summers which she herself had left far behind. Forhis part, on his way to the assignation, he had come to what he thoughtthe most sensible decision, resolving to break off the intercourse afterthe fashion of a well-bred man, with all sorts of fine consolatoryspeeches. But sternness was not in his nature. He was weak andsoft-hearted, and had never been able to withstand a woman's tears. Nevertheless, he endeavoured to calm her, and in order to rid himself ofher embrace, he made her sit down upon the sofa. And there, beside her, he replied: "Come, be reasonable, my dear. We came here to have afriendly chat, did we not? I assure you that you are greatly exaggeratingmatters. "

But she was determined to obtain a more positive answer from him. "No, no!" she retorted, "I am suffering too dreadfully, I must know the truthat once. Swear to me that you will never, never marry her!"

He again endeavoured to avoid replying as she wished him to do. "Come, come, " he said, "you will do yourself harm by giving way to such grief asthis; you know that I love you dearly. "

"Then swear to me that you will never, never marry her. "

"But I tell you that I love you, that you are the only one I love. "

Then she again threw her arms around him, and kissed him passionatelyupon the eyes. "Is it true?" she asked in a transport. "You love me, youlove no one else? Oh! tell me so again, and kiss me, and promise me thatyou will never belong to her. "

Weak as he was he could not resist her ardent caresses and pressingentreaties. There came a moment of supreme cowardice and passion; herarms were around him and he forgot all but her, again and again repeatingthat he loved none other, and would never, never marry her daughter. Atlast he even sank so low as to pretend that he simply regarded that poor, infirm creature with pity. His words of compassionate disdain for herrival were like nectar to Eve, for they filled her with the blissful ideathat it was she herself who would ever remain beautiful in his eyes andwhom he would ever love. . . . 

At last silence fell between them, like an inevitable reaction after sucha tempest of despair and passion. It disturbed Gerard. "Won't you drinksome tea?" he asked. "It is almost cold already. "

She was not listening, however. To her the reaction had come in adifferent form; and as though the inevitable explanation were only nowcommencing, she began to speak in a sad and weary voice. "My dear Gerard, you really cannot marry my daughter. In the first place it would be sowrong, and then there is the question of your name, your position. Forgive my frankness, but the fact is that everybody would say that youhad sold yourself--such a marriage would be a scandal for both yourfamily and mine. "

As she spoke she took hold of his hands, like a mother seeking to preventher big son from committing some terrible blunder. And he listened toher, with bowed head and averted eyes. She now evinced no anger, nojealous rage; all such feelings seemed to have departed with the raptureof her passion. 

"Just think of what people would say, " she continued. "I don't deceivemyself, I am fully aware that there is an abyss between your circle ofsociety and ours. It is all very well for us to be rich, but money simplyenlarges the gap. And it was all very fine for me to be converted, mydaughter is none the less 'the daughter of the Jewess, ' as folks so oftensay. Ah! my Gerard, I am so proud of you, that it would rend my heart tosee you lowered, degraded almost, by a marriage for money with a girl whois deformed, who is unworthy of you and whom you could never love. "

He raised his eyes and looked at her entreatingly, anxious as he was tobe spared such painful talk. "But haven't I sworn to you, that you arethe only one I love?" he said. "Haven't I sworn that I would never marryher! It's all over. Don't let us torture ourselves any longer. "

Their glances met and lingered on one another, instinct with all themisery which they dared not express in words. Eve's face had suddenlyaged; her eyelids were red and swollen, and blotches marbled herquivering cheeks, down which her tears again began to trickle. "My poor, poor Gerard, " said she, "how heavily I weigh on you. Oh! do not deny it!I feel that I am an intolerable burden on your shoulders, an impedimentin your life, and that I shall bring irreparable disaster on you by myobstinacy in wishing you to be mine alone. "

He tried to speak, but she silenced him. "No, no, all is over between us. I am growing ugly, all is ended. And besides, I shut off the future fromyou. I can be of no help to you, whereas you bestow all on me. And yetthe time has come for you to assure yourself a position. At your age youcan't continue living without any certainty of the morrow, without a homeand hearth of your own; and it would be cowardly and cruel of me to setmyself up as an obstacle, and prevent you from ending your life happily, as I should do if I clung to you and dragged you down with me. "

Gazing at him through her tears she continued speaking in this fashion. Like his mother she was well aware that he was weak and even sickly; andshe therefore dreamt of arranging a quiet life for him, a life oftranquil happiness free from all fear of want. She loved him so fondly;and possessed so much genuine kindness of heart that perhaps it might bepossible for her to rise even to renunciation and sacrifice. Moreover, the very egotism born of her beauty suggested that it might be well forher to think of retirement and not allow the autumn of her life to bespoilt by torturing dramas. All this she said to him, treating him like achild whose happiness she wished to ensure even at the price of her own;and he, his eyes again lowered, listened without further protest, pleasedindeed to let her arrange a happy life for him. 

Examining the situation from every aspect, she at last began torecapitulate the points in favour of that abominable marriage, thethought of which had so intensely distressed her. "It is certain, " shesaid, "that Camille would bring you all that I should like you to have. With her, I need hardly say it, would come plenty, affluence. And as forthe rest, well, I do not wish to excuse myself or you, but I could nametwenty households in which there have been worse things. Besides, I waswrong when I said that money opened a gap between people. On thecontrary, it draws them nearer together, it secures forgiveness for everyfault; so nobody would dare to blame you, there would only be jealousones around you, dazzled by your good fortune. "

Gerard rose, apparently rebelling once more. "Surely, " said he, "/you/don't insist on my marrying your daughter?"

"Ah! no indeed! But I am sensible, and I tell you what I ought to tellyou. You must think it all over. "

"I have done so already. It is you that I have loved, and that I lovestill. What you say is impossible. "

She smiled divinely, rose, and again embraced him. "How good and kind youare, my Gerard. Ah! if you only knew how I love you, how I shall alwayslove you, whatever happens. "

Then she again began to weep, and even he shed tears. Their good faithwas absolute; tender of heart as they were, they sought to delay thepainful wrenching and tried to hope for further happiness. But they wereconscious that the marriage was virtually an accomplished fact. Onlytears and words were left them, while life and destiny were marching on. And if their emotion was so acute it was probably because they felt thatthis was the last time they would meet as lovers. Still they strove toretain the illusion that they were not exchanging their last farewell, that their lips would some day meet again in a kiss of rapture. 

Eve removed her arms from the young man's neck, and they both gazed roundthe room, at the sofa, the table, the four chairs, and the little hissinggas-stove. The moist, hot atmosphere was becoming quite oppressive. 

"And so, " said Gerard, "you won't drink a cup of tea?"

"No, it's so horrid here, " she answered, while arranging her hair infront of the looking-glass. 

At that parting moment the mournfulness of this place, where she hadhoped to find such delightful memories, filled her with distress, whichwas turning to positive anguish, when she suddenly heard an uproar ofgruff voices and heavy feet. People were hastening along the passage andknocking at the doors. And, on darting to the window, she perceived anumber of policemen surrounding the chalet. At this the wildest ideasassailed her. Had her daughter employed somebody to follow her? Did herhusband wish to divorce her so as to marry Silviane? The scandal would beawful, and all her plans must crumble! She waited in dismay, white like aghost; while Gerard, also paling and quivering, begged her to be calm. Atlast, when loud blows were dealt upon the door and a Commissary of Policeenjoined them to open it, they were obliged to do so. Ah! what a moment, and what dismay and shame!

Meantime, for more than an hour, Pierre and Guillaume had been waitingfor the rain to cease. Seated in a corner of the glazed verandah theytalked in undertones of Barthes' painful affair, and ultimately decidedto ask Theophile Morin to dine with them on the following evening, andinform his old friend that he must again go into exile. 

"That is the best course, " repeated Guillaume. "Morin is very fond of himand will know how to break the news. I have no doubt too that he will gowith him as far as the frontier. "

Pierre sadly looked at the falling rain. "Ah! what a choice, " said he, "to be ever driven to a foreign land under penalty of being thrust intoprison. Poor fellow! how awful it is to have never known a moment ofhappiness and gaiety in one's life, to have devoted one's whole existenceto the idea of liberty, and to see it scoffed at and expire withoneself!"

Then the priest paused, for he saw several policemen and keepers approachthe cafe and prowl round it. Having lost scent of the man they werehunting, they had retraced their steps with the conviction no doubt thathe had sought refuge in the chalet. And in order that he might not againescape them, they now took every precaution, exerted all their skill insurrounding the place before venturing on a minute search. Covert fearcame upon Pierre and Guillaume when they noticed these proceedings. Itseemed to them that it must all be connected with the chase which theyhad caught a glimpse of some time previously. Still, as they happened tobe in the chalet they might be called upon to give their names andaddresses. At this thought they glanced at one another, and almost madeup their minds to go off under the rain. But they realised that anythinglike flight might only compromise them the more. So they waited; and allat once there came a diversion, for two fresh customers entered theestablishment. 

A victoria with its hood and apron raised had just drawn up outside thedoor. The first to alight from it was a young, well-dressed man with abored expression of face. He was followed by a young woman who waslaughing merrily, as if much amused by the persistence of the downpour. By way of jesting, indeed, she expressed her regret that she had not cometo the Bois on her bicycle, whereupon her companion retorted that todrive about in a deluge appeared to him the height of idiocy. 

"But we were bound to go somewhere, my dear fellow, " she gaily answered. "Why didn't you take me to see the maskers?"

"The maskers, indeed! No, no, my dear. I prefer the Bois, and even thebottom of the lake, to them. "

Then, as the couple entered the chalet, Pierre saw that the young womanwho made merry over the rain was little Princess Rosemonde, while hercompanion, who regarded the mid-Lent festivities as horrible, andbicycling as an utterly unaesthetic amusement, was handsome HyacintheDuvillard. On the previous evening, while they were taking a cup of teatogether on their return from the Chamber of Horrors, the young man hadresponded to the Princess's blandishments by declaring that the only formof attachment he believed in was a mystic union of intellects and souls. And as such a union could only be fittingly arrived at amidst the cold, chaste snow, they had decided that they would start for Christiania onthe following Monday. Their chief regret was that by the time theyreached the fiords the worst part of the northern winter would be over. 

They sat down in the cafe and ordered some kummel, but there was none, said the waiter, so they had to content themselves with common anisette. Then Hyacinthe, who had been a schoolfellow of Guillaume's sons, recognised both him and Pierre; and leaning towards Rosemonde told her ina whisper who the elder brother was. 

Thereupon, with sudden enthusiasm, she sprang to her feet: "GuillaumeFroment, indeed! the great chemist!" And stepping forward with armoutstretched, she continued: "Ah! monsieur, you must excuse me, but Ireally must shake hands with you. I have so much admiration for you! Youhave done such wonderful work in connection with explosives!" Then, noticing the chemist's astonishment, she again burst into a laugh: "I amthe Princess de Harn, your brother Abbe Froment knows me, and I ought tohave asked him to introduce me. However, we have mutual friends, you andI; for instance, Monsieur Janzen, a very distinguished man, as you areaware. He was to have taken me to see you, for I am a modest disciple ofyours. Yes, I have given some attention to chemistry, oh! from pure zealfor truth and in the hope of helping good causes, not otherwise. So youwill let me call on you--won't you?--directly I come back fromChristiania, where I am going with my young friend here, just to acquiresome experience of unknown emotions. "

In this way she rattled on, never allowing the others an opportunity tosay a word. And she mingled one thing with another; her cosmopolitantastes, which had thrown her into Anarchism and the society of shadyadventurers; her new passion for mysticism and symbolism; her belief thatthe ideal must triumph over base materialism; her taste for aestheticverse; and her dream of some unimagined rapture when Hyacinthe shouldkiss her with his frigid lips in a realm of eternal snow. 

All at once, however, she stopped short and again began to laugh. "Dearme!" she exclaimed. "What are those policemen looking for here? Have theycome to arrest us? How amusing it would be!"

Police Commissary Dupot and detective Mondesir had just made up theirminds to search the cafe, as their men had hitherto failed to find Salvatin any of the outbuildings. They were convinced that he was here. Dupot, a thin, bald, short-sighted, spectacled little man, wore his usualexpression of boredom and weariness; but in reality he was very wideawake and extremely courageous. He himself carried no weapons; but, as heanticipated a most violent resistance, such as might be expected from atrapped wolf, he advised Mondesir to have his revolver ready. Fromconsiderations of hierarchical respect, however, the detective, who withhis snub nose and massive figure had much the appearance of a bull-dog, was obliged to let his superior enter first. 

From behind his spectacles the Commissary of Police quickly scrutinizedthe four customers whom he found in the cafe: the lady, the priest, andthe two other men. And passing them in a disdainful way, he at once madefor the stairs, intending to inspect the upper floor. Thereupon thewaiter, frightened by the sudden intrusion of the police, lost his headand stammered: "But there's a lady and gentleman upstairs in one of theprivate rooms. "

Dupot quietly pushed him aside. "A lady and gentleman, that's not what weare looking for. . . . Come, make haste, open all the doors, you mustn'tleave a cupboard closed. "

Then climbing to the upper floor, he and Mondesir explored in turn everyapartment and corner till they at last reached the room where Eve andGerard were together. Here the waiter was unable to admit them, as thedoor was bolted inside. "Open the door!" he called through the keyhole, "it isn't you that they want!"

At last the bolt was drawn back, and Dupot, without even venturing tosmile, allowed the trembling lady and gentleman to go downstairs, whileMondesir, entering the room, looked under every article of furniture, andeven peeped into a little cupboard in order that no neglect might beimputed to him. 

Meantime, in the public room which they had to cross after descending thestairs, Eve and Gerard experienced fresh emotion; for people whom theyknew were there, brought together by an extraordinary freak of chance. Although Eve's face was hidden by a thick veil, her eyes met her son'sglance and she felt sure that he recognised her. What a fatality! He hadso long a tongue and told his sister everything! Then, as the Count, indespair at such a scandal, hurried off with the Baroness to conduct herthrough the pouring rain to her cab, they both distinctly heard littlePrincess Rosemonde exclaim: "Why, that was Count de Quinsac! Who was thelady, do you know?" And as Hyacinthe, greatly put out, returned noanswer, she insisted, saying: "Come, you must surely know her. Who wasshe, eh?"

"Oh! nobody. Some woman or other, " he ended by replying. 

Pierre, who had understood the truth, turned his eyes away to hide hisembarrassment. But all at once the scene changed. At the very moment whenCommissary Dupot and detective Mondesir came downstairs again, aftervainly exploring the upper floor, a loud shout was raised outside, followed by a noise of running and scrambling. Then Gascogne, the Chiefof the Detective Force, who had remained in the rear of the chalet, continuing the search through the outbuildings, made his appearance, pushing before him a bundle of rags and mud, which two policemen held oneither side. And this bundle was the man, the hunted man, who had justbeen discovered in the coach-house, inside a staved cask, covered withhay. 

Ah! what a whoop of victory there was after that run of two hours'duration, that frantic chase which had left them all breathless andfootsore! It had been the most exciting, the most savage of all sports--aman hunt! They had caught the man at last, and they pushed him, theydragged him, they belaboured him with blows. And he, the man, what asorry prey he looked! A wreck, wan and dirty from having spent the nightin a hole full of leaves, still soaked to his waist from having rushedthrough a stream, drenched too by the rain, bespattered with mire, hiscoat and trousers in tatters, his cap a mere shred, his legs and handsbleeding from his terrible rush through thickets bristling with bramblesand nettles. There no longer seemed anything human about his face; hishair stuck to his moist temples, his bloodshot eyes protruded from theirsockets; fright, rage, and suffering were all blended on his wasted, contracted face. Still it was he, the man, the quarry, and they gave himanother push, and he sank on one of the tables of the little cafe, stillheld and shaken, however, by the rough hands of the policemen. 

Then Guillaume shuddered as if thunderstruck, and caught hold of Pierre'shand. At this the priest, who was looking on, suddenly understood thetruth and also quivered. Salvat! the man was Salvat! It was Salvat whomthey had seen rushing through the wood like a wild boar forced by thehounds. And it was Salvat who was there, now conquered and simply afilthy bundle. Then once more there came to Pierre, amidst his anguish, avision of the errand girl lying yonder at the entrance of the Duvillardmansion, the pretty fair-haired girl whom the bomb had ripped and killed!

Dupot and Mondesir made haste to participate in Gascogne's triumph. Totell the truth, however, the man had offered no resistance; it was like alamb that he had let the police lay hold of him. And since he had been inthe cafe, still roughly handled, he had simply cast a weary and mournfulglance around him. 

At last he spoke, and the first words uttered by his hoarse, gaspingvoice were these: "I am hungry. "

He was sinking with hunger and weariness. This was the third day that hehad eaten nothing. 

"Give him some bread, " said Commissary Dupot to the waiter. "He can eatit while a cab is being fetched. "

A policeman went off to find a vehicle. The rain had suddenly ceasedfalling, the clear ring of a bicyclist's bell was heard in the distance, some carriages drove by, and under the pale sunrays life again came backto the Bois. 

Meantime, Salvat had fallen gluttonously upon the hunk of bread which hadbeen given him, and whilst he was devouring it with rapturous animalsatisfaction, he perceived the four customers seated around. He seemedirritated by the sight of Hyacinthe and Rosemonde, whose faces expressedthe mingled anxiety and delight they felt at thus witnessing the arrestof some bandit or other. But all at once his mournful, bloodshot eyeswavered, for to his intense surprise he had recognised Pierre andGuillaume. When he again looked at the latter it was with the submissiveaffection of a grateful dog, and as if he were once more promising thathe would divulge nothing, whatever might happen. 

At last he again spoke, as if addressing himself like a man of courage, both to Guillaume, from whom he had averted his eyes, and to others also, his comrades who were not there: "It was silly of me to run, " said he. "Idon't know why I did so. It's best that it should be all ended. I'mready. "

V

THE GAME OF POLITICS

ON reading the newspapers on the following morning Pierre and Guillaumewere greatly surprised at not finding in them the sensational accounts ofSalvat's arrest which they had expected. All they could discover was abrief paragraph in a column of general news, setting forth that somepolicemen on duty in the Bois de Boulogne had there arrested anAnarchist, who was believed to have played a part in certain recentoccurrences. On the other hand, the papers gave a deal of space to thequestions raised by Sagnier's fresh denunciations. There were innumerablearticles on the African Railways scandal, and the great debate whichmight be expected at the Chamber of Deputies, should Mege, the Socialistmember, really renew his interpellation, as he had announced hisintention of doing. 

As Guillaume's wrist was now fast healing, and nothing seemed to threatenhim, he had already, on the previous evening, decided that he wouldreturn to Montmartre. The police had passed him by without apparentlysuspecting any responsibility on his part; and he was convinced thatSalvat would keep silent. Pierre, however, begged him to wait a littlelonger, at any rate until the prisoner should have been interrogated bythe investigating magistrate, by which time they would be able to judgethe situation more clearly. Pierre, moreover, during his long stay at theHome Department on the previous morning, had caught a glimpse of certainthings and overheard certain words which made him suspect some dimconnection between Salvat's crime and the parliamentary crisis; and hetherefore desired a settlement of the latter before Guillaume returned tohis wonted life. 

"Just listen, " he said to his brother. "I am going to Morin's to ask himto come and dine here this evening, for it is absolutely necessary thatBarthes should be warned of the fresh blow which is falling on him. Andthen I think I shall go to the Chamber, as I want to know what takesplace there. After that, since you desire it, I will let you go back toyour own home. "

It was not more than half-past one when Pierre reached thePalais-Bourbon. It had occurred to him that Fonsegue would be able tosecure him admittance to the meeting-hall, but in the vestibule he metGeneral de Bozonnet, who happened to possess a couple of tickets. Afriend of his, who was to have accompanied him, had, at the last moment, been unable to come. So widespread was the curiosity concerning thedebate now near at hand, and so general were the predictions that itwould prove a most exciting one, that the demand for tickets had beenextremely keen during the last twenty-four hours. In fact Pierre wouldnever have been able to obtain admittance if the General had notgood-naturedly offered to take him in. As a matter of fact the oldwarrior was well pleased to have somebody to chat with. He explained thathe had simply come there to kill time, just as he might have killed it ata concert or a charity bazaar. However, like the ex-Legitimist andBonapartist that he was, he had really come for the pleasure of feastinghis eyes on the shameful spectacle of parliamentary ignominy. 

When the General and Pierre had climbed the stairs, they were able tosecure two front seats in one of the public galleries. Little Massot, whowas already there, and who knew them both, placed one of them on hisright and the other on his left. "I couldn't find a decent seat left inthe press gallery, " said he, "but I managed to get this place, from whichI shall be able to see things properly. It will certainly be a bigsitting. Just look at the number of people there are on every side!"

The narrow and badly arranged galleries were packed to overflowing. Therewere men of every age and a great many women too in the confused, serriedmass of spectators, amidst which one only distinguished a multiplicity ofpale white faces. The real scene, however, was down below in themeeting-hall, which was as yet empty, and with its rows of seats disposedin semi-circular fashion looked like the auditorium of a theatre. Underthe cold light which fell from the glazed roofing appeared the solemn, shiny tribune, whence members address the Chamber, whilst behind it, on ahigher level, and running right along the rear wall, was what is calledthe Bureau, with its various tables and seats, including the presidentialarmchair. The Bureau, like the tribune, was still unoccupied. The onlypersons one saw there were a couple of attendants who were laying out newpens and filling inkstands. 

"The women, " said Massot with a laugh, after another glance at thegalleries, "come here just as they might come to a menagerie, that is, inthe secret hope of seeing wild beasts devour one another. But, by theway, did you read the article in the 'Voix du Peuple' this morning? Whata wonderful fellow that Sagnier is. When nobody else can find any filthleft, he manages to discover some. He apparently thinks it necessary toadd something new every day, in order to send his sales up. And of courseit all disturbs the public, and it's thanks to him that so many peoplehave come here in the hope of witnessing some horrid scene. "

Then he laughed again, as he asked Pierre if he had read an unsignedarticle in the "Globe, " which in very dignified but perfidious languagehad called upon Barroux to give the full and frank explanations which thecountry had a right to demand in that matter of the African Railways. This paper had hitherto vigorously supported the President of theCouncil, but in the article in question the coldness which precedes arupture was very apparent. Pierre replied that the article had muchsurprised him, for he had imagined that Fonsegue and Barroux were linkedtogether by identity of views and long-standing personal friendship. 

Massot was still laughing. "Quite so, " said he. "And you may be sure thatthe governor's heart bled when he wrote that article. It has been muchnoticed, and it will do the government a deal of harm. But the governor, you see, knows better than anybody else what line he ought to follow tosave both his own position and the paper's. "

Then he related what extraordinary confusion and emotion reigned amongthe deputies in the lobbies through which he had strolled before comingupstairs to secure a seat. After an adjournment of a couple of days theChamber found itself confronted by this terrible scandal, which was likeone of those conflagrations which, at the moment when they are supposedto be dying out, suddenly flare up again and devour everything. Thevarious figures given in Sagnier's list, the two hundred thousand francspaid to Barroux, the eighty thousand handed to Monferrand, the fiftythousand allotted to Fonsegue, the ten thousand pocketed by Duthil, andthe three thousand secured by Chaigneux, with all the other amountsdistributed among So-and-so and So-and-so, formed the general subject ofconversation. And at the same time some most extraordinary stories werecurrent; there was no end of tittle-tattle in which fact and falsehoodwere so inextricably mingled that everybody was at sea as to the realtruth. Whilst many deputies turned pale and trembled as beneath a blastof terror, others passed by purple with excitement, bursting withdelight, laughing with exultation at the thought of coming victory. For, in point of fact, beneath all the assumed indignation, all the calls forparliamentary cleanliness and morality, there simply lay a question ofpersons--the question of ascertaining whether the government would beoverthrown, and in that event of whom the new administration wouldconsist. Barroux no doubt appeared to be in a bad way; but with things insuch a muddle one was bound to allow a margin for the unexpected. Fromwhat was generally said it seemed certain that Mege would be extremelyviolent. Barroux would answer him, and the Minister's friends declaredthat he was determined to speak out in the most decisive manner. As forMonferrand he would probably address the Chamber after his colleague, butVignon's intentions were somewhat doubtful, as, in spite of his delight, he made a pretence of remaining in the back, ground. He had been seengoing from one to another of his partisans, advising them to keep calm, in order that they might retain the cold, keen /coup d'oeil/ which inwarfare generally decides the victory. Briefly, such was the plotting andintriguing that never had any witch's cauldron brimful of drugs andnameless abominations been set to boil on a more hellish fire than thatof this parliamentary cook-shop. 

"Heaven only knows what they will end by serving us, " said little Massotby way of conclusion. 

General de Bozonnet for his part anticipated nothing but disaster. IfFrance had only possessed an army, said he, one might have swept awaythat handful of bribe-taking parliamentarians who preyed upon the countryand rotted it. But there was no army left, there was merely an armednation, a very different thing. And thereupon, like a man of a past agewhom the present times distracted, he started on what had been hisfavourite subject of complaint ever since he had been retired from theservice. 

"Here's an idea for an article if you want one, " he said to Massot. "Although France may have a million soldiers she hasn't got an army. I'llgive you some notes of mine, and you will be able to tell people thetruth. "

Warfare, he continued, ought to be purely and simply a caste occupation, with commanders designated by divine right, leading mercenaries orvolunteers into action. By democratising warfare people had simply killedit; a circumstance which he deeply regretted, like a born soldier whoregarded fighting as the only really noble occupation that life offered. For, as soon as it became every man's duty to fight, none was willing todo so; and thus compulsory military service--what was called "the nationin arms"--would, at a more or less distant date, certainly bring aboutthe end of warfare. If France had not engaged in a European war since1870 this was precisely due to the fact that everybody in France wasready to fight. But rulers hesitated to throw a whole nation againstanother nation, for the loss both in life and treasure would betremendous. And so the thought that all Europe was transformed into avast camp filled the General with anger and disgust. He sighed for theold times when men fought for the pleasure of the thing, just as theyhunted; whereas nowadays people were convinced that they wouldexterminate one another at the very first engagement. 

"But surely it wouldn't be an evil if war should disappear, " Pierregently remarked. 

This somewhat angered the General. "Well, you'll have pretty nations ifpeople no longer fight, " he answered, and then trying to show a practicalspirit, he added: "Never has the art of war cost more money than sincewar itself has become an impossibility. The present-day defensive peaceis purely and simply ruining every country in Europe. One may be spareddefeat, but utter bankruptcy is certainly at the end of it all. And inany case the profession of arms is done for. All faith in it is dyingout, and it will soon be forsaken, just as men have begun to forsake thepriesthood. "

Thereupon he made a gesture of mingled grief and anger, almost cursingthat parliament, that Republican legislature before him, as if heconsidered it responsible for the future extinction of warfare. Butlittle Massot was wagging his head dubiously, for he regarded the subjectas rather too serious a one for him to write upon. And, all at once, inorder to turn the conversation into another channel, he exclaimed: "Ah!there's Monseigneur Martha in the diplomatic gallery beside the SpanishAmbassador. It's denied, you know, that he intends to come forward as acandidate in Morbihan. He's far too shrewd to wish to be a deputy. Healready pulls the strings which set most of the Catholic deputies whohave 'rallied' to the Republican Government in motion. "

Pierre himself had just noticed Monseigneur Martha's smiling face. And, somehow or other, however modest might be the prelate's demeanour, itseemed to him that he really played an important part in what was goingon. He could hardly take his eyes from him. It was as if he expected thathe would suddenly order men hither and thither, and direct the wholemarch of events. 

"Ah!" said Massot again. "Here comes Mege. It won't be long now beforethe sitting begins. "

The hall, down below, was gradually filling. Deputies entered anddescended the narrow passages between the benches. Most of them remainedstanding and chatting in a more or less excited way; but some seatedthemselves and raised their grey, weary faces to the glazed roof. It wasa cloudy afternoon, and rain was doubtless threatening, for the lightbecame quite livid. If the hall was pompous it was also dismal with itsheavy columns, its cold allegorical statues, and its stretches of baremarble and woodwork. The only brightness was that of the red velvet ofthe benches and the gallery hand-rests. 

Every deputy of any consequence who entered was named by Massot to hiscompanions. Mege, on being stopped by another member of the littleSocialist group, began to fume and gesticulate. Then Vignon, detachinghimself from a group of friends and putting on an air of smilingcomposure, descended the steps towards his seat. The occupants of thegalleries, however, gave most attention to the accused members, thosewhose names figured in Sagnier's list. And these were interestingstudies. Some showed themselves quite sprightly, as if they were entirelyat their ease; but others had assumed a most grave and indignantdemeanour. Chaigneux staggered and hesitated as if beneath the weight ofsome frightful act of injustice; whereas Duthil looked perfectly serenesave for an occasional twitch of his lips. The most admired, however, wasFonsegue, who showed so candid a face, so open a glance, that hiscolleagues as well as the spectators might well have declared himinnocent. Nobody indeed could have looked more like an honest man. 

"Ah! there's none like the governor, " muttered Massot with enthusiasm. "But be attentive, for here come the ministers. One mustn't miss Barroux'meeting with Fonsegue, after this morning's article. "

Chance willed it that as Barroux came along with his head erect, his facepale, and his whole demeanour aggressive, he was obliged to pass Fonseguein order to reach the ministerial bench. In doing so he did not speak tohim, but he gazed at him fixedly like one who is conscious of defection, of a cowardly stab in the back on the part of a traitor. Fonsegue seemedquite at ease, and went on shaking hands with one and another of hiscolleagues as if he were altogether unconscious of Barroux' glance. Nordid he even appear to see Monferrand, who walked by in the rear of thePrime Minister, wearing a placid good-natured air, as if he knew nothingof what was impending, but was simply coming to some ordinary humdrumsitting. However, when he reached his seat, he raised his eyes and smiledat Monseigneur Martha, who gently nodded to him. Then well pleased tothink that things were going as he wished them to go, he began to rub hishands, as he often did by way of expressing his satisfaction. 

"Who is that grey-haired, mournful-looking gentleman on the ministerialbench?" Pierre inquired of Massot. 

"Why, that's Taboureau, the Minister of Public Instruction, the excellentgentleman who is said to have no prestige. One's always hearing of him, and one never recognises him; he looks like an old, badly worn coin. Justlike Barroux he can't feel very well pleased with the governor thisafternoon, for to-day's 'Globe' contained an article pointing out histhorough incapacity in everything concerning the fine arts. It was anarticle in measured language, but all the more effective for that veryreason. It would surprise me if Taboureau should recover from it. "

Just then a low roll of drums announced the arrival of the President andother officials of the Chamber. A door opened, and a little processionpassed by amidst an uproar of exclamations and hasty footsteps. Then, standing at his table, the President rang his bell and declared thesitting open. But few members remained silent, however, whilst one of thesecretaries, a dark, lanky young man with a harsh voice, read the minutesof the previous sitting. When they had been adopted, various letters ofapology for non-attendance were read, and a short, unimportant bill waspassed without discussion. And then came the big affair, Mege'sinterpellation, and at once the whole Chamber was in a flutter, while themost passionate curiosity reigned in the galleries above. On theGovernment consenting to the interpellation, the Chamber decided that thedebate should take place at once. And thereupon complete silence fell, save that now and again a brief quiver sped by, in which one could detectthe various feelings, passions and appetites swaying the assembly. 

Mege began to speak with assumed moderation, carefully setting forth thevarious points at issue. Tall and thin, gnarled and twisted like avine-stock, he rested his hands on the tribune as if to support his bentfigure, and his speech was often interrupted by the little dry coughwhich came from the tuberculosis that was burning him. But his eyessparkled with passion behind his glasses, and little by little his voicerose in piercing accents and he drew his lank figure erect and began togesticulate vehemently. He reminded the Chamber that some two monthspreviously, at the time of the first denunciations published by the "Voixdu Peuple, " he had asked leave to interpellate the Government respectingthat deplorable affair of the African Railways; and he remarked, trulyenough, that if the Chamber had not yielded to certain considerationswhich he did not wish to discuss, and had not adjourned his proposedinquiries, full light would long since have been thrown on the wholeaffair, in such wise that there would have been no revival, no increaseof the scandal, and no possible pretext for that abominable campaign ofdenunciation which tortured and disgusted the country. However, it had atlast been understood that silence could be maintained no longer. It wasnecessary that the two ministers who were so loudly accused of havingabused their trusts, should prove their innocence, throw full light uponall they had done; apart from which the Chamber itself could not possiblyremain beneath the charge of wholesale venality. 

Then he recounted the whole history of the affair, beginning with thegrant of a concession for the African Lines to Baron Duvillard; and nextpassing to the proposals for the issue of lottery stock, which proposals, it was now said, had only been sanctioned by the Chamber after the mostshameful bargaining and buying of votes. At this point Mege becameextremely violent. Speaking of that mysterious individual Hunter, BaronDuvillard's recruiter and go-between, he declared that the police hadallowed him to flee from France, much preferring to spend its time inshadowing Socialist deputies. Then, hammering the tribune with his fist, he summoned Barroux to give a categorical denial to the charges broughtagainst him, and to make it absolutely clear that he had never received asingle copper of the two hundred thousand francs specified in Hunter'slist. Forthwith certain members shouted to Mege that he ought to read thewhole list; but when he wished to do so others vociferated that it wasabominable, that such a mendacious and slanderous document ought not tobe accorded a place in the proceedings of the French legislature. Megewent on still in frantic fashion, figuratively casting Sagnier into thegutter, and protesting that there was nothing in common between himselfand such a base insulter. But at the same time he demanded that justiceand punishment should be meted out equally to one and all, and that ifindeed there were any bribe-takers among his colleagues, they should besent that very night to the prison of Mazas. 

Meantime the President, erect at his table, rang and rang his bellwithout managing to quell the uproar. He was like a pilot who finds thetempest too strong for him. Among all the men with purple faces andbarking mouths who were gathered in front of him, the ushers alonemaintained imperturbable gravity. At intervals between the bursts ofshouting, Mege's voice could still be heard. By some sudden transition hehad come to the question of a Collectivist organisation of society suchas he dreamt of, and he contrasted it with the criminal capitalistsociety of the present day, which alone, said he, could produce suchscandals. And yielding more and more to his apostolic fervour, declaringthat there could be no salvation apart from Collectivism, he shouted thatthe day of triumph would soon dawn. He awaited it with a smile ofconfidence. In his opinion, indeed, he merely had to overthrow thatministry and perhaps another one, and then he himself would at last takethe reins of power in hand, like a reformer who would know how to pacifythe nation. As outside Socialists often declared, it was evident that theblood of a dictator flowed in that sectarian's veins. His feverish, stubborn rhetoric ended by exhausting his interrupters, who werecompelled to listen to him. When he at last decided to leave the tribune, loud applause arose from a few benches on the left. 

"Do you know, " said Massot to the General, "I met Mege taking a walk withhis three little children in the Jardin des Plantes the other day. Helooked after them as carefully as an old nurse. I believe he's a veryworthy fellow at heart, and lives in a very modest way. "

But a quiver had now sped through the assembly. Barroux had quitted hisseat to ascend the tribune. He there drew himself erect, throwing hishead back after his usual fashion. There was a haughty, majestic, slightly sorrowful expression on his handsome face, which would have beenperfect had his nose only been a little larger. He began to express hissorrow and indignation in fine flowery language, which he punctuated withtheatrical gestures. His eloquence was that of a tribune of the romanticschool, and as one listened to him one could divine that in spite of allhis pomposity he was really a worthy, tender-hearted and somewhat foolishman. That afternoon he was stirred by genuine emotion; his heart bled atthe thought of his disastrous destiny, he felt that a whole world wascrumbling with himself. Ah! what a cry of despair he stifled, the cry ofthe man who is buffeted and thrown aside by the course of events on thevery day when he thinks that his civic devotion entitles him to triumph!To have given himself and all he possessed to the cause of the Republic, even in the dark days of the Second Empire; to have fought and struggledand suffered persecution for that Republic's sake; to have establishedthat Republic amidst the battle of parties, after all the horrors ofnational and civil war; and then, when the Republic at last triumphed andbecame a living fact, secure from all attacks and intrigues, to suddenlyfeel like a survival of some other age, to hear new comers speak a newlanguage, preach a new ideal, and behold the collapse of all he hadloved, all he had reverenced, all that had given him strength to fightand conquer! The mighty artisans of the early hours were no more; it hadbeen meet that Gambetta should die. How bitter it all was for the lastlingering old ones to find themselves among the men of the new, intelligent and shrewd generation, who gently smiled at them, deemingtheir romanticism quite out of fashion! All crumbled since the ideal ofliberty collapsed, since liberty was no longer the one desideratum, thevery basis of the Republic whose existence had been so dearly purchasedafter so long an effort!

Erect and dignified Barroux made his confession. The Republic to him waslike the sacred ark of life; the very worst deeds became saintly if theywere employed to save her from peril. And in all simplicity he, told hisstory, how he had found the great bulk of Baron Duvillard's money goingto the opposition newspapers as pretended payment for puffery andadvertising, whilst on the other hand the Republican organs received butbeggarly, trumpery amounts. He had been Minister of the Interior at thetime, and had therefore had charge of the press; so what would have beensaid of him if he had not endeavoured to reestablish some equilibrium inthis distribution of funds in order that the adversaries of theinstitutions of the country might not acquire a great increase ofstrength by appropriating all the sinews of war? Hands had been stretchedout towards him on all sides, a score of newspapers, the most faithful, the most meritorious, had claimed their legitimate share. And he hadensured them that share by distributing among them the two hundredthousand francs set down in the list against his name. Not a centime ofthe money had gone into his own pocket, he would allow nobody to impugnhis personal honesty, on that point his word must suffice. At that momentBarroux was really grand. All his emphatic pomposity disappeared; heshowed himself, as he really was--an honest man, quivering, his heartbared, his conscience bleeding, in his bitter distress at having beenamong those who had laboured and at now being denied reward. 

For, truth to tell, his words fell amidst icy silence. In his childishsimplicity he had anticipated an outburst of enthusiasm; a RepublicanChamber could but acclaim him for having saved the Republic; and now thefrigidity of one and all quite froze him. He suddenly felt that he wasall alone, done for, touched by the hand of death. Nevertheless, hecontinued speaking amidst that terrible silence with the courage of onewho is committing suicide, and who, from his love of noble and eloquentattitudes, is determined to die standing. He ended with a finalimpressive gesture. However, as he came down from the tribune, thegeneral coldness seemed to increase, not a single member applauded. Withsupreme clumsiness he had alluded to the secret scheming of Rome and theclergy, whose one object, in his opinion, was to recover the predominantposition they had lost and restore monarchy in France at a more or lessdistant date. 

"How silly of him! Ought a man ever to confess?" muttered Massot. "He'sdone for, and the ministry too!"

Then, amidst the general frigidity, Monferrand boldly ascended thetribune stairs. The prevailing uneasiness was compounded of all thesecret fear which sincerity always causes, of all the distress of thebribe-taking deputies who felt that they were rolling into an abyss, andalso of the embarrassment which the others felt at thought of the more orless justifiable compromises of politics. Something like relief, therefore, came when Monferrand started with the most emphatic denials, protesting in the name of his outraged honour, and dealing blow afterblow on the tribune with one hand, while with the other he smote hischest. Short and thick-set, with his face thrust forward, hiding hisshrewdness beneath an expression of indignant frankness, he was for amoment really superb. He denied everything. He was not only ignorant ofwhat was meant by that sum of eighty thousand francs set down against hisname, but he defied the whole world to prove that he had even touched asingle copper of that money. He boiled over with indignation to such apoint that he did not simply deny bribe-taking on his own part, he deniedit on behalf of the whole assembly, of all present and past Frenchlegislatures, as if, indeed, bribe-taking on the part of a representativeof the people was altogether too monstrous an idea, a crime thatsurpassed possibility to such an extent that the mere notion of it wasabsurd. And thereupon applause rang out; the Chamber, delivered from itsfears, thrilled by his words, acclaimed him. 

From the little Socialist group, however, some jeers arose, and voicessummoned Monferrand to explain himself on the subject of the AfricanRailways, reminding him that he had been at the head of the Public WorksDepartment at the time of the vote, and requiring of him that he shouldstate what he now meant to do, as Minister of the Interior, in order toreassure the country. He juggled with this question, declaring that ifthere were any guilty parties they would be punished, for he did notrequire anybody to remind him of his duty. And then, all at once, withincomparable maestria, he had recourse to the diversion which he had beenpreparing since the previous day. His duty, said he, was a thing which henever forgot; he discharged it like a faithful soldier of the nation hourby hour, and with as much vigilance as prudence. He had been accused ofemploying the police on he knew not what base spying work in such wise asto allow the man Hunter to escape. Well, as for that much-slanderedpolice force, he would tell the Chamber on what work he had reallyemployed it the day before, and how zealously it had laboured for thecause of law and order. In the Bois de Boulogne, on the previousafternoon, it had arrested that terrible scoundrel, the perpetrator ofthe crime in the Rue Godot-de-Mauroy, that Anarchist mechanician Salvat, who for six weeks past had so cunningly contrived to elude capture. Thescoundrel had made a full confession during the evening, and the lawwould now take its course with all despatch. Public morality was at lastavenged, Paris might now emerge in safety from its long spell of terror, Anarchism would be struck down, annihilated. And that was what he, Monferrand, had done as a Minister for the honour and safety of hiscountry, whilst villains were vainly seeking to dishonour him byinscribing his name on a list of infamy, the outcome of the very basestpolitical intrigues. 

The Chamber listened agape and quivering. This story of Salvat's arrest, which none of the morning papers had reported; the present whichMonferrand seemed to be making them of that terrible Anarchist whom manyhad already begun to regard as a myth; the whole /mise-en-scene/ of theMinister's speech transported the deputies as if they were suddenlywitnessing the finish of a long-interrupted drama. Stirred and flattered, they prolonged their applause, while Monferrand went on celebrating hisact of energy, how he had saved society, how crime should be punished, and how he himself would ever prove that he had a strong arm and couldanswer for public order. He even won favour with the Conservatives andClericals on the Right by separating himself from Barroux, addressing afew words of sympathy to those Catholics who had "rallied" to theRepublic, and appealing for concord among men of different beliefs inorder that they might fight the common enemy, that fierce, wild socialismwhich talked of overthrowing everything!

By the time Monferrand came down from the tribune, the trick was played, he had virtually saved himself. Both the Right and Left of the Chamber*applauded, drowning the protests of the few Socialists whosevociferations only added to the triumphal tumult. Members eagerlystretched out their hands to the Minister, who for a moment remainedstanding there and smiling. But there was some anxiety in that smile ofhis; his success was beginning to frighten him. Had he spoken too well, and saved the entire Cabinet instead of merely saving himself? That wouldmean the ruin of his plan. The Chamber ought not to vote under the effectof that speech which had thrilled it so powerfully. Thus Monferrand, though he still continued to smile, spent a few anxious moments inwaiting to see if anybody would rise to answer him. 

 * Ever since the days of the Bourbon Restoration it has been the practice in the French Chambers for the more conservative members to seat themselves on the President's right, and for the Radical ones to place themselves on his left. The central seats of the semicircle in which the members' seats are arranged in tiers are usually occupied by men of moderate views. Generally speaking, such terms as Right Centre and Left Centre are applied to groups of Moderates inclining in the first place to Conservatism and in the latter to Radicalism. All this is of course known to readers acquainted with French institutions, but I give the explanation because others, after perusing French news in some daily paper, have often asked me what was meant by "a deputy of the Right, " and so forth. --Trans. 

His success had been as great among the occupants of the galleries asamong the deputies themselves. Several ladies had been seen applauding, and Monseigneur Martha had given unmistakable signs of the liveliestsatisfaction. "Ah, General!" said Massot to Bozonnet in a sneering way. "Those are our fighting men of the present time. And he's a bold andstrong one, is Monferrand. Of course it is all what people style 'savingone's bacon, ' but none the less it's very clever work. "

Just then, however, Monferrand to his great satisfaction had seen Vignonrise from his seat in response to the urging of his friends. Andthereupon all anxiety vanished from the Minister's smile, which becameone of malicious placidity. 

The very atmosphere of the Chamber seemed to change with Vignon in thetribune. He was slim, with a fair and carefully tended beard, blue eyesand all the suppleness of youth. He spoke, moreover, like a practicalman, in simple, straightforward language, which made the emptiness of theother's declamatory style painfully conspicuous. His term of officialservice as a prefect in the provinces had endowed him with keen insight;and it was in an easy way that he propounded and unravelled the mostintricate questions. Active and courageous, confident in his own star, too young and too shrewd to have compromised himself in anything so far, he was steadily marching towards the future. He had already drawn up arather more advanced political programme than that of Barroux andMonferrand, so that when opportunity offered there might be good reasonsfor him to take their place. Moreover, he was quite capable of carryingout his programme by attempting some of the long-promised reforms forwhich the country was waiting. He had guessed that honesty, when it hadprudence and shrewdness as its allies, must some day secure an innings. In a clear voice, and in a very quiet, deliberate way, he now said whatit was right to say on the subject under discussion, the things thatcommon sense dictated and that the Chamber itself secretly desired shouldbe said. He was certainly the first to rejoice over an arrest which wouldreassure the country; but he failed to understand what connection therecould be between that arrest and the sad business that had been broughtbefore the Chamber. The two affairs were quite distinct and different, and he begged his colleagues not to vote in the state of excitement inwhich he saw them. Full light must be thrown on the African Railwaysquestion, and this, one could not expect from the two incriminatedministers. However, he was opposed to any suggestion of a committee ofinquiry. In his opinion the guilty parties, if such there were, ought tobe brought immediately before a court of law. And, like Barroux, he woundup with a discreet allusion to the growing influence of the clergy, declaring that he was against all unworthy compromises, and was equallyopposed to any state dictatorship and any revival of the ancienttheocratic spirit. 

Although there was but little applause when Vignon returned to his seat, it was evident that the Chamber was again master of its emotions. And thesituation seemed so clear, and the overthrow of the ministry so certain, that Mege, who had meant to reply to the others, wisely abstained fromdoing so. Meantime people noticed the placid demeanour of Monferrand, whohad listened to Vignon with the utmost complacency, as if he wererendering homage to an adversary's talent; whereas Barroux, ever sincethe cold silence which had greeted his speech, had remained motionless inhis seat, bowed down and pale as a corpse. 

"Well, it's all over, " resumed Massot, amidst the hubbub which arose asthe deputies prepared to vote; "the ministry's done for. Little Vignonwill go a long way, you know. People say that he dreams of the Elysee. Atall events everything points to him as our next prime minister. "

Then, as the journalist rose, intending to go off, the General detainedhim: "Wait a moment, Monsieur Massot, " said he. "How disgusting all thatparliamentary cooking is! You ought to point it out in an article, andshow people how the country is gradually being weakened and rotted to themarrow by all such useless and degrading discussions. Why, a great battleresulting in the loss of 50, 000 men would exhaust us less than ten yearsof this abominable parliamentary system. You must call on me somemorning. I will show you a scheme of military reform, in which I pointout the necessity of returning to the limited professional armies whichwe used to have, for this present-day national army, as folks call it, which is a semi-civilian affair and at best a mere herd of men, is like adead weight on us, and is bound to pull us down!"

Pierre, for his part, had not spoken a word since the beginning of thedebate. He had listened to everything, at first influenced by the thoughtof his brother's interests, and afterwards mastered by the feverishnesswhich gradually took possession of everybody present. He had becomeconvinced that there was nothing more for Guillaume to fear; but howcuriously did one event fit into another, and how loudly had Salvat'sarrest re-echoed in the Chamber! Looking down into the seething hallbelow him, he had detected all the clash of rival passions and interests. After watching the great struggle between Barroux, Monferrand and Vignon, he had gazed upon the childish delight of that terrible Socialist Mege, who was so pleased at having been able to stir up the depths of thosetroubled waters, in which he always unwittingly angled for the benefit ofothers. Then, too, Pierre had become interested in Fonsegue, who, knowingwhat had been arranged between Monferrand, Duvillard and himself, evincedperfect calmness and strove to reassure Duthil and Chaigneux, who, ontheir side, were quite dismayed by the ministry's impending fall. Yet, Pierre's eyes always came back to Monseigneur Martha. He had watched hisserene smiling face throughout the sitting, striving to detect hisimpressions of the various incidents that had occurred, as if in hisopinion that dramatic parliamentary comedy had only been played as a steptowards the more or less distant triumph for which the prelate laboured. And now, while awaiting the result of the vote, as Pierre turned towardsMassot and the General, he found that they were talking of nothing butrecruiting and tactics and the necessity of a bath of blood for the wholeof Europe. Ah! poor mankind, ever fighting and ever devouring one anotherin parliaments as well as on battle-fields, when, thought Pierre, wouldit decide to disarm once and for all, and live at peace according to thelaws of justice and reason!

Then he again looked down into the hall, where the greatest confusion wasprevailing among the deputies with regard to the coming vote. There wasquite a rainfall of suggested "resolutions, " from a very violent oneproposed by Mege, to another, which was merely severe, emanating fromVignon. The ministry, however, would only accept the "Order of the daypure and simple, " a mere decision, that is, to pass to the next business, as if Mege's interpellation had been unworthy of attention. And presentlythe Government was defeated, Vignon's resolution being adopted by amajority of twenty-five. Some portion of the Left had evidently joinedhands with the Right and the Socialist group. A prolonged hubbub followedthis result. 

"Well, so we are to have a Vignon Cabinet, " said Massot, as he went offwith Pierre and the General. "All the same, though, Monferrand has savedhimself, and if I were in Vignon's place I should distrust him. "

That evening there was a very touching farewell scene at the little houseat Neuilly. When Pierre returned thither from the Chamber, saddened butreassured with regard to the future, Guillaume at once made up his mindto go home on the morrow. And as Nicholas Barthes was compelled to leave, the little dwelling seemed on the point of relapsing into dreary quietudeonce more. 

Theophile Morin, whom Pierre had informed of the painful alternative inwhich Barthes was placed, duly came to dinner; but he did not have timeto speak to the old man before they all sat down to table at seveno'clock. As usual Barthes had spent his day in marching, like a cagedlion, up and down the room in which he had accepted shelter after thefashion of a big fearless child, who never worried with regard either tohis present circumstances or the troubles which the future might have instore for him. His life had ever been one of unlimited hope, whichreality had ever shattered. Although all that he had loved, all that hehad hoped to secure by fifty years of imprisonment or exile, --liberty, equality and a real brotherly republic, --had hitherto failed to come, such as he had dreamt of them, he nevertheless retained the candid faithof his youth, and was ever confident in the near future. He would smileindulgently when new comers, men of violent ideas, derided him and calledhim a poor old fellow. For his part, he could make neither head nor tailof the many new sects. He simply felt indignant with their lack of humanfeeling, and stubbornly adhered to his own idea of basing the world'sregeneration on the simple proposition that men were naturally good andought to be free and brotherly. 

That evening at dinner, feeling that he was with friends who cared forhim, Barthes proved extremely gay, and showed all his ingenuousness intalking of his ideal, which would soon be realised, said he, in spite ofeverything. He could tell a story well whenever he cared to chat, and onthat occasion he related some delightful anecdotes about the prisonsthrough which he had passed. He knew all the dungeons, Ste. Pelagie andMont St. Michel, Belle-Ile-en-Mer and Clairvaux, to say nothing oftemporary gaols and the evil-smelling hulks on board which politicalprisoners are often confined. And he still laughed at certainrecollections, and related how in the direst circumstances he had alwaysbeen able to seek refuge in his conscience. The others listened to himquite charmed by his conversation, but full of anguish at the thoughtthat this perpetual prisoner or exile must again rise and take his staffto sally forth, driven from his native land once more. 

Pierre did not speak out until they were partaking of dessert. Then herelated how the Minister had written to him, and how in a brief interviewhe had stated that Barthes must cross the frontier within forty-eighthours if he did not wish to be arrested. Thereupon the old man gravelyrose, with his white fleece, his eagle beak and his bright eyes stillsparkling with the fire of youth. And he wished to go off at once. "What!" said he, "you have known all this since yesterday, and have stillkept me here at the risk of my compromising you even more than I had donealready! You must forgive me, I did not think of the worry I might causeyou, I thought that everything would be satisfactorily arranged. I mustthank you both--yourself and Guillaume--for the few days of quietude thatyou have procured to an old vagabond and madman like myself. "

Then, as they tried to prevail on him to remain until the followingmorning, he would not listen to them. There would be a train for Brusselsabout midnight, and he had ample time to take it. He refused to let Morinaccompany him. No, no, said he, Morin was not a rich man, and moreover hehad work to attend to. Why should he take him away from his duties, whenit was so easy, so simple, for him to go off alone? He was going backinto exile as into misery and grief which he had long known, like someWandering Jew of Liberty, ever driven onward through the world. 

When he took leave of the others at ten o'clock, in the little sleepystreet just outside the house, tears suddenly dimmed his eyes. "Ah! I'mno longer a young man, " he said; "it's all over this time. I shall nevercome back again. My bones will rest in some corner over yonder. " And yet, after he had affectionately embraced Pierre and Guillaume, he drewhimself up like one who remained unconquered, and he raised a supreme cryof hope. "But after all, who knows? Triumph may perhaps come to-morrow. The future belongs to those who prepare it and wait for it!"

Then he walked away, and long after he had disappeared his firm, sonorousfootsteps could be heard re-echoing in the quiet night.