第 10 页

never released a prey. Formerly mayor of the town of Tulle, he came from

La Correze, where he owned a large estate. He was certainly a force in

motion, one whose constant rise was anxiously watched by keen observers.

He spoke in a simple quiet way, but with extraordinary power of

conviction. Having apparently no ambition, affecting indeed the greatest

disinterestedness, he nevertheless harboured the most ferocious

appetites. Sagnier had written that he was a thief and a murderer, having

strangled two of his aunts in order to inherit their property. But even

if he were a murderer, he was certainly not a vulgar one.

Then, too, came another personage of the drama which was about to be

performed--deputy Vignon, whose arrival agitated the various groups. The

two ministers looked at him, whilst he, at once surrounded by his

friends, smiled at them from a distance. He was not yet thirty-six. Slim,

and of average height, very fair, with a fine blond beard of which he

took great care, a Parisian by birth, having rapidly made his way in the

government service, at one time Prefect at Bordeaux, he now represented

youth and the future in the Chamber. He had realised that new men were

needed in the direction of affairs in order to accomplish the more

urgent, indispensable reforms; and very ambitious and intelligent as he

was, knowing many things, he already had a programme, the application of

which he was quite capable of attempting, in part at any rate. However,

he evinced no haste, but was full of prudence and shrewdness, convinced

that his day would dawn, strong in the fact that he was as yet

compromised in nothing, but had all space before him. At bottom he was

merely a first-class administrator, clear and precise in speech, and his

programme only differed from Barroux's by the rejuvenation of its

formulas, although the advent of a Vignon ministry in place of a Barroux

ministry appeared an event of importance. And it was of Vignon that

Sagnier had written that he aimed at the Presidency of the Republic, even

should he have to march through blood to reach the Elysee Palace.

"_Mon Dieu_!" Massot was explaining, "it's quite possible that Sagnier

isn't lying this time, and that he has really found a list of names in

some pocket-book of Hunter's that has fallen into his hands. I myself

have long known that Hunter was Duvillard's vote-recruiter in the affair

of the African Railways. But to understand matters one must first realise

what his mode of proceeding was, the skill and the kind of amiable

delicacy which he showed, which were far from the brutal corruption and

dirty trafficking that people imagine. One must be such a man as Sagnier

to picture a parliament as an open market, where every conscience is for

sale and is impudently knocked down to the highest bidder. Oh! things

happened in a very different way indeed; and they are explainable, and at

times even excusable. Thus the article is levelled in particular against

Barroux and Monferrand, who are designated in the clearest possible

manner although they are not named. You are no doubt aware that at the

time of the vote Barroux was at the Home Department and Monferrand at

that of Public Works, and so now they are accused of having betrayed

their trusts, the blackest of all social crimes. I don't know into what

political combinations Barroux may have entered, but I am ready to swear

that he put nothing in his pocket, for he is the most honest of men. As

for Monferrand, that's another matter; he's a man to carve himself his

share, only I should be much surprised if he had put himself in a bad

position. He's incapable of a blunder, particularly of a stupid blunder,

like that of taking money and leaving a receipt for it lying about."

Massot paused, and with a jerk of his head called Pierre's attention to

Duthil, who, feverish, but nevertheless smiling, stood in a group which

had just collected around the two ministers. "There! do you see that

young man yonder, that dark handsome fellow whose beard looks so

triumphant?"

"I know him," said Pierre.

"Oh! you know Duthil. Well, he's one who most certainly took money. But

he's a mere bird. He came to us from Angouleme to lead the pleasantest of

lives here, and he has no more conscience, no more scruples, than the

pretty finches of his native part, who are ever love-making. Ah! for

Duthil, Hunter's money was like manna due to him, and he never even

paused to think that he was dirtying his fingers. You may be quite sure

he feels astonished that people should attach the slightest importance to

the matter."

Then Massot designated another deputy in the same group, a man of fifty

or thereabouts, of slovenly aspect and lachrymose mien, lanky, too, like

a maypole, and somewhat bent by the weight of his head, which was long

and suggestive of a horse's. His scanty, straight, yellowish hair, his

drooping moustaches, in fact the whole of his distracted countenance,

expressed everlasting distress.

"And Chaigneux, do you know him?" continued Massot, referring to the

deputy in question. "No? Well, look at him and ask yourself if it isn't

quite as natural that he, too, should have taken money. He came from

Arras. He was a solicitor there. When his division elected him he let

politics intoxicate him, and sold his practice to make his fortune in

Paris, where he installed himself with his wife and his three daughters.

And you can picture his bewilderment amidst those four women, terrible

women ever busy with finery, receiving and paying visits, and running

after marriageable men who flee away. It's ill-luck with a vengeance, the

daily defeat of a poor devil of mediocre attainments, who imagined that

his position as a deputy would facilitate money-making, and who is

drowning himself in it all. And so how can Chaigneux have done otherwise

than take money, he who is always hard up for a five-hundred-franc note!

I admit that originally he wasn't a dishonest man. But he's become one,

that's all."

Massot was now fairly launched, and went on with his portraits, the

series which he had, at one moment, dreamt of writing under the title of

"Deputies for Sale." There were the simpletons who fell into the furnace,

the men whom ambition goaded to exasperation, the low minds that yielded

to the temptation of an open drawer, the company-promoters who grew

intoxicated and lost ground by dint of dealing with big figures. At the

same time, however, Massot admitted that these men were relatively few in

number, and that black sheep were to be found in every parliament of the

world. Then Sagnier's name cropped up again, and Massot remarked that

only Sagnier could regard the French Chambers as mere dens of thieves.

Pierre, meantime, felt most interested in the tempest which the threat of

a ministerial crisis was stirring up before him. Not only the men like

Duthil and Chaigneux, pale at feeling the ground tremble beneath them,

and wondering whether they would not sleep at the Mazas prison that

night, were gathered round Barroux and Monferrand; all the latters'

clients were there, all who enjoyed influence or office through them, and

who would collapse and disappear should they happen to fall. And it was

something to see the anxious glances and the pale dread amidst all the

whispered chatter, the bits of information and tittle-tattle which were

carried hither and thither. Then, in a neighbouring group formed round

Vignon, who looked very calm and smiled, were the other clients, those

who awaited the moment to climb to the assault of power, in order that

they, in their turn, might at last possess influence or office. Eyes

glittered with covetousness, hopeful delight could be read in them,

pleasant surprise at the sudden opportunity now offered. Vignon avoided

replying to the over-direct questions of his friends, and simply

announced that he did not intend to intervene. Evidently enough his plan

was to let Mege interpellate and overthrow the ministry, for he did not

fear him, and in his own estimation would afterwards simply have to stoop

to pick up the fallen portfolios.

"Ah! Monferrand now," little Massot was saying, "there's a rascal who

trims his sails! I knew him as an anti-clerical, a devourer of priests,

Monsieur l'Abbe, if you will allow me so to express myself; however, I

don't say this to be agreeable to you, but I think I may tell you for

certain that he has become reconciled to religion. At least, I have been

told that Monseigneur Martha, who is a great converter, now seldom leaves

him. This is calculated to please one in these new times, when science

has become bankrupt, and religion blooms afresh with delicious mysticism

on all sides, whether in art, literature, or society itself."

Massot was jesting, according to his wont; but he spoke so amiably that

the priest could not do otherwise than bow. However, a great stir had set

in before them; it was announced that Mege was about to ascend the

tribune, and thereupon all the deputies hastened into the assembly hall,

leaving only the inquisitive visitors and a few journalists in the Salle

des Pas Perdus.

"It's astonishing that Fonsegue hasn't yet arrived," resumed Massot;

"he's interested in what's going on. However, he's so cunning, that when

he doesn't behave as others do, one may be sure that he has his reasons

for it. Do you know him?" And as Pierre gave a negative answer, Massot

went on: "Oh! he's a man of brains and real power--I speak with all

freedom, you know, for I don't possess the bump of veneration; and, as

for my editors, well, they're the very puppets that I know the best and

pick to pieces with the most enjoyment. Fonsegue, also, is clearly

designated in Sagnier's article. Moreover, he's one of Duvillard's usual

clients. There can be no doubt that he took money, for he takes money in

everything. Only he always protects himself, and takes it for reasons

which may be acknowledged--as payment or commission on account of

advertising, and so forth. And if I left him just now, looking, as it

seemed to me, rather disturbed, and if he delays his arrival here to

establish, as it were, a moral alibi, the truth must be that he has

committed the first imprudent action in his life."

Then Massot rattled on, telling all there was to tell about Fonsegue. He,

too, came from the department of La Correze, and had quarrelled for life

with Monferrand after some unknown underhand affairs. Formerly an

advocate at Tulle, his ambition had been to conquer Paris; and he had

really conquered it, thanks to his big morning newspaper, "Le Globe," of

which he was both founder and director. He now resided in a luxurious

mansion in the Avenue du Bois de Boulogne, and no enterprise was launched

but he carved himself a princely share in it. He had a genius for

"business," and employed his newspaper as a weapon to enable him to reign

over the market. But how very carefully he had behaved, what long and

skilful patience he had shown, before attaining to the reputation of a

really serious man, who guided authoritatively the most virtuous and

respected of the organs of the press! Though in reality he believed

neither in God nor in Devil, he had made this newspaper the supporter of

order, property, and family ties; and though he had become a Conservative

Republican, since it was to his interest to be such, he had remained

outwardly religious, affecting a Spiritualism which reassured the

_bourgeoisie_. And amidst all his accepted power, to which others bowed,

he nevertheless had one hand deep in every available money-bag.

"Ah! Monsieur l'Abbe," said Massot, "see to what journalism may lead a

man. There you have Sagnier and Fonsegue: just compare them a bit. In

reality they are birds of the same feather: each has a quill and uses it.

But how different the systems and the results. Sagnier's print is really

a sewer which rolls him along and carries him to the cesspool; while the

other's paper is certainly an example of the best journalism one can

have, most carefully written, with a real literary flavour, a treat for

readers of delicate minds, and an honour to the man who directs it. But

at the bottom, good heavens! in both cases the farce is precisely the

same!"

Massot burst out laughing, well pleased with this final thrust. Then all

at once: "Ah! here's Fonsegue at last!" said he.

Quite at his ease, and still laughing, he forthwith introduced the

priest. "This is Monsieur l'Abbe Froment, my dear _patron_, who has been

waiting more than twenty minutes for you--I'm just going to see what is

happening inside. You know that Mege is interpellating the government."

The new comer started slightly: "An interpellation!" said he. "All right,

all right, I'll go to it."

Pierre was looking at him. He was about fifty years of age, short of

stature, thin and active, still looking young without a grey hair in his

black beard. He had sparkling eyes, too, but his mouth, said to be a

terrible one, was hidden by his moustaches. And withal he looked a

pleasant companion, full of wit to the tip of his little pointed nose,

the nose of a sporting dog that is ever scenting game. "What can I do for

you, Monsieur l'Abbe?" he inquired.

Then Pierre briefly presented his request, recounting his visit to

Laveuve that morning, giving every heart-rending particular, and asking

for the poor wretch's immediate admittance to the Asylum.

"Laveuve!" said the other, "but hasn't his affair been examined? Why,

Duthil drew up a report on it, and things appeared to us of such a nature

that we could not vote for the man's admittance."

But the priest insisted: "I assure you, monsieur, that your heart would

have burst with compassion had you been with me this morning. It is

revolting that an old man should be left in such frightful abandonment