Bureaucracy by Honoré de Balzac (best classic novels .TXT) 📕

of the palace for five mortal hours, a prey to feverish agitation. At half-past six o'clock the session broke up, and the members filed out. The minister's chasseur came up to find the coachman.

"Hi, Jean!" he called out to him; "Monseigneur has gone with the minister of war; they are going to see the King, and after that they dine together, and we are to fetch him at ten o'clock. There's a Council this evening."

Rabourdin walked slowly home, in a state of despondency not difficult to imagine. It was seven o'clock, and he had barely time to dress.

"Well, you are appointed?" cried his wife, joyously, as he entered the salon.

Rabourdin raised his head with a grievous motion of distress and answered, "I fear I shall never again set foot in the ministry."

"What?" said his wife, quivering with sudden anxiety.

"My memorandum on the officials is known in all the offices; and I have not been able to see the minister."

Celestine's eyes were opened to a sudden vision in which the devil, in one of his infernal flashes, showed her the meaning of her last conversation with des Lupeaulx.

"If I had behaved like a low woman," she thought, "we should have had the place."

She looked at Rabourdin with grief in her heart. A sad silence fell between them, and dinner was eaten in the midst of gloomy meditations.

"And it is my Wednesday," she said at last.

"All is not lost, dear Celestine," said Rabourdin, laying a kiss on his wife's forehead; "perhaps to-morrow I shall be able to see the minister and explain everything. Sebastien sat up all last night to finish the writing; the papers are copied and collated; I shall place them on the minister's desk and beg him to read them through. La Briere will help me. A man is never condemned without a hearing."

"I am curious to see if Monsieur des Lupeaulx will come here to-night."

"He? Of course he will come," said Rabourdin; "there's something of the tiger in him; he likes to lick the blood of the wounds he has given."

"My poor husband," said his wife, taking his hand, "I don't see how it is that a man who could conceive so noble a reform did not also see that it ought not to be communicated to a single person. It is one of those ideas that a man should keep in his own mind, for he alone can apply them. A statesman must do in our political sphere as Napoleon did in his; he stooped, twisted, crawled. Yes, Bonaparte crawled! To be made commander-in-chief of the Army of Italy he married Barrere's mistress. You should have waited, got yourself elected deputy, followed the politics of a party, sometimes down in the depths, at other times on the crest of the wave, and you should have taken, like Monsieur de Villele, the Italian motto 'Col tempo,' in other words, 'All things are given to him who knows how to wait.' That great orator worked for seven years to get into power; he began in 1814 by protesting against the Charter when he was the same age that you are now. Here's your fault; you have allowed yourself to be kept subordinate, when you were born to rule."

The entrance of the painter Schinner imposed silence on the wife and husband, but these words made the latter thoughtful.

"Dear friend," said the painter, grasping Rabourdin's hand, "the support of artists is a useless thing enough, but let me say under these circumstances that we are all faithful to you. I have just read the evening papers. Baudoyer is appointed director and receives the cross of the Legion of honor--"

"I have been longer in the department, I have served twenty-four hours," said Rabourdin with a smile.

"I know Monsieur le Comte de Serizy, the minister of State, pretty well, and if he can help you, I will go and see him," said Schinner.

The salon soon filled with persons who knew nothing of the government proceedings. Du Bruel did not appear. Madame Rabourdin was gayer and more graceful than ever, like the charger wounded in battle, that still finds strength to carry his master from the field.

"She is very courageous," said a few women who knew the truth, and who were charmingly attentive to her, understanding her misfortunes.

"But she certainly did a great deal to attract des Lupeaulx," said the Baronne du Chatelet to the Vicomtesse de Fontaine.

"Do you think--" began the vicomtesse.

"If so," interrupted Madame de Camps, in defence of her friend, "Monsieur Rabourdin would at least have had the cross."

About eleven o'clock des Lupeaulx appeared; and we can only describe him by saying that his spectacles were sad and his eyes joyous; the glasses, however, obscured the glances so successfully that only a physiognomist would have seen the diabolical expression which they wore. He went up to Rabourdin and pressed the hand which the latter could not avoid giving him.

Then he approached Madame Rabourdin.

"We have much to say to each other," he remarked as he seated himself beside the beautiful woman, who received him admirably.

"Ah!" he continued, giving her a side glance, "you are grand indeed; I find you just what I expected, glorious under defeat. Do you know that it is a very rare thing to find a superior woman who answers to the expectations formed of her. So defeat doesn't dishearten you? You are right; we shall triumph in the end," he whispered in her ear. "Your fate is always in your own hands,--so long, I mean, as your ally is a man who adores you. We will hold counsel together."

"But is Baudoyer appointed?" she asked.

"Yes," said the secretary.

"Does he get the cross?"

"Not yet; but he will have it later."

"Amazing!"

"Ah! you don't understand political exigencies."

During this evening, which seemed interminable to Madame Rabourdin, another scene was occurring in the place Royale,--one of those comedies which are played in seven Parisian salons whenever there is a change of ministry. The Saillards' salon was crowded. Monsieur and Madame Transon arrived at eight o'clock; Madame Transon kissed Madame Baudoyer, nee Saillard. Monsieur Bataille, captain of the National Guard, came with his wife and the curate of Saint Paul's.

"Monsieur Baudoyer," said Madame Transon. "I wish to be the first to congratulate you; they have done justice to your talents. You have indeed earned your promotion."

"Here you are, director," said Monsieur Transon, rubbing his hands, "and the appointment is very flattering to this neighborhood."

"And we can truly say it came to pass without any intriguing," said the worthy Saillard. "We are none of us political intriguers; /we/ don't go to select parties at the ministry."

Uncle Mitral rubbed his nose and grinned as he glanced at his niece Elisabeth, the woman whose hand had pulled the wires, who was talking with Gigonnet. Falleix, honest fellow, did not know what to make of the stupid blindness of Saillard and Baudoyer. Messieurs Dutocq, Bixiou, du Bruel, Godard, and Colleville (the latter appointed head of the bureau) entered.

"What a crew!" whispered Bixiou to du Bruel. "I could make a fine caricature of them in the shapes of fishes,--dorys, flounders, sharks, and snappers, all dancing a saraband!"

"Monsieur," said Colleville, "I come to offer you my congratulations; or rather we congratulate ourselves in having such a man placed over us; and we desire to assure you of the zeal with which we shall co-operate in your labors. Allow me to say that this event affords a signal proof to the truth of my axiom that a man's destiny lies in the letters of his name. I may say that I knew of this appointment and of your other honors before I heard of them, for I spend the night in anagrammatizing your name as follows:" [proudly] "Isidore C. T. Baudoyer,--Director, decorated by us (his Majesty the King, of course)."

Baudoyer bowed and remarked piously that names were given in baptism.

Monsieur and Madame Baudoyer, senior, father and mother of the new director, were there to enjoy the glory of their son and daughter-in-law. Uncle Gigonnet-Bidault, who had dined at the house, had a restless, fidgety look in his eye which frightened Bixiou.

"There's a queer one," said the latter to du Bruel, calling his attention to Gigonnet, "who would do in a vaudeville. I wonder if he could be bought. Such an old scarecrow is just the thing for a sign over the Two Baboons. And what a coat! I did think there was nobody but Poiret who could show the like after that after ten years' public exposure to the inclemencies of Parisian weather."

"Baudoyer is magnificent," said du Bruel.

"Dazzling," answered Bixiou.

"Gentlemen," said Baudoyer, "let me present you to my own uncle, Monsieur Mitral, and to my great-uncle through my wife, Monsieur Bidault."

Gigonnet and Mitral gave a glance at the three clerks so penetrating, so glittering with gleams of gold, that the two scoffers were sobered at once.

"Hein?" said Bixiou, when they were safely under the arcades in the place Royale; "did you examine those uncles?--two copies of Shylock. I'll bet their money is lent in the market at a hundred per cent per week. They lend on pawn; and sell most that they lay hold of, coats, gold lace, cheese, men, women, and children; they are a conglomeration of Arabs, Jews, Genoese, Genevese, Greeks, Lombards, and Parisians, suckled by a wolf and born of a Turkish woman."

"I believe you," said Godard. "Uncle Mitral used to be a sheriff's officer."

"That settles it," said du Bruel.

"I'm off to see the proof of my caricature," said Bixiou; "but I should like to study the state of things in Rabourdin's salon to-night. You are lucky to be able to go there, du Bruel."

"I!" said the vaudevillist, "what should I do there? My face doesn't lend itself to condolences. And it is very vulgar in these days to go and see people who are down."


CHAPTER IX. THE RESIGNATION

By midnight Madame Rabourdin's salon was deserted; only two or three guests remained with des Lupeaulx and the master and mistress of the house. When Schinner and Monsieur and Madame de Camps had likewise departed, des Lupeaulx rose with a mysterious air, stood with his back to the fireplace and looked alternately at the husband and wife.

"My friends," he said, "nothing is really lost, for the minister and I are faithful to you. Dutocq simply chose between two powers the one he thought strongest. He has served the court and the Grand Almoner; he has betrayed me. But that is in the order of things; a politician never complains of treachery. Nevertheless, Baudoyer will be dismissed as incapable in a few months; no doubt his protectors will find him a place,--in the prefecture of police, perhaps,--for the clergy will not desert him."

From this point des Lupeaulx went on with a long tirade about the Grand Almoner and the dangers the government ran in relying upon the church and upon the Jesuits. We need not, we think, point out to the intelligent reader that the court and the Grand Almoner, to whom the liberal journals attributed an enormous influence under the administration, had little really to do with Monsieur Baudoyer's appointment. Such petty intrigues die in the upper sphere of great self-interests. If a few words in favor of Baudoyer were obtained by the importunity of the curate of Saint-Paul's and the Abbe Gaudron, they would have been withdrawn