Complete Works of Emile Zola (330 page)

‘Are you there, your reverence?’ all at once cried Angéline, at the little door. ‘Our shuttlecock has fallen into your garden.’

The Abbé picked up the shuttlecock, which had dropped at his feet, and made up his mind to open the door.

‘Oh, thank you! your reverence,’ said Aurélie, who had already taken the battledore. ‘Only Angéline would ever make such a stroke. The other day when papa was watching us she sent the shuttlecock right against his ear with such a bang that he was quite deaf till the next day.’

There was more laughter at this; and Abbé Surin, as rosy as a girl, delicately dabbed his brow with a handkerchief of fine texture. He pushed his fair hair behind his ears, and stood there with glistening eyes and flexible figure, using his battledore as a fan. In the excitement of the game his bands had got slightly displaced.

‘Monsieur le Curé,’ said he, as he took up his position again, ‘you shall be umpire.’

Abbé Faujas, holding his breviary under his arm and smiling paternally, stood on the threshold of the little door­way. Through the cart-entrance of the Sub-Prefecture, which was half open, he could see Monsieur Péqueur des Saulaies seated in front of the cascade amidst his friends. The priest looked straight in front of him, however, and counted the points of the game, while complimenting Abbé Surin and consoling the young ladies.

‘I tell you what, Péqueur,’ said Monsieur de Condamin, in a whisper, in the sub-prefect’s ear, ‘you make a mistake in not inviting that little Abbé to your parties. He is a great favourite with the ladies, and he looks as though he could waltz to perfection.’

Monsieur Péqueur des Saulaies, who was talking to Mon­sieur Delangre with much animation, did not however appear to bear the other, but went on with his conversation with the mayor.

‘Really, my dear sir,’ he said, ‘I don’t know where you see all the merits that you profess to find in him. On the contrary, indeed, Abbé Faujas appears to me to be of very doubtful character. There is considerable suspicion attached to his past career, and strange things are said about him here. I really don’t see why I should go down on my knees to this priest, especially as the clergy of Plassans are hostile to us. I should gain no advantage by doing so.’

Monsieur Delangre and Monsieur de Condamin exchanged glances of intelligence, and then, by way of reply, nodded their heads.

‘None, whatever,’ continued the sub-prefect. ‘It is no use pretending to look mysterious; I may tell you that I have myself written to Paris. I was a good deal bothered, and I wanted to be quite certain about this Faujas, whom you seem to look upon as a sort of prince in disguise. Well! do you know what reply I got? They told me that they did not know him and could tell me nothing about him, and that I must care­fully avoid mixing myself up with clerical matters. They are grumpy enough in Paris as it is, since the election of that jackass Lagrifoul, and I have to be prudent, you understand.’

The mayor exchanged another glance with the conservator of rivers and forests. He even slightly shrugged his shoulders before the correctly twirled moustaches of Monsieur Péqueur des Saulaies.

‘Just listen to me,’ he said to him after a moment’s silence; ‘you would like to be a prefect, wouldn’t you?’

The sub-prefect smiled as he rocked himself in his chair.

‘Well, then, go at once, and shake hands with Abbé Faujas, who is waiting for you down there, while he is watching them play at shuttlecock.’

Monsieur Péqueur des Saulaies was silent with astonish­ment. He seemed quite puzzled, turned towards Monsieur de Condamin, and asked, with some show of uneasiness:

‘Is that your advice also?’

‘Certainly; go and offer him your hand,’ replied the conservator of rivers and forests.

Then, with a slight touch of irony, he added:

‘Consult my wife, if you like; I know you have perfect confidence in her.’

Madame de Condamin was just approaching them. She was wearing a lovely pink and pearl-grey dress. When they spoke to her of the Abbé she said graciously to the sub-prefect:

‘It is very wrong of you to neglect your religious duties; one never sees you at church except perhaps when there is some official ceremony. It really distresses me very much, and I must try to convert you. What sort of opinion do you expect people will have of the government you represent, if they see you are not on the side of religion? — Leave us, gentlemen; I am going to confess Monsieur Péqueur.’

She took a seat, smiling playfully.

‘Octavie,’ said the sub-prefect, in an undertone, when they were alone together, ‘don’t make fun of me. You weren’t a very pious person in the Rue du Helder in Paris. It’s all I can do to keep from laughing when I see you worshipping in Saint-Saturnin’s.’

‘You are too flippant, my friend,’ she replied,’ and your flippancy will play you a bad turn one of these days. Seriously, you quite distress me. I gave you credit for having more intelligence. Are you so blind that you cannot see that you are tottering in your position? Let me tell you that it is only from fear of alarming the Legitimists at Plassans that you haven’t already been recalled. If the Legitimists saw a new sub-prefect arriving here, they would take alarm, whereas so long as you remain here they will continue quietly sleeping, feeling certain of victory at the next election. All this is not very flattering for you; I am aware of that, and the more so as I know positively that the authorities are acting without taking you into their confidence. Listen to me, my friend; I tell you that you are ruined if you don’t divine certain things.’

He looked at her with unfeigned alarm.

‘Has “the great man” been writing to you?’ he asked, referring to a personage whom they thus designated between themselves.

‘No; he has broken entirely with me. I am not a fool, and I saw, before he did, the necessity of the separation. And I have nothing at all to complain of. He has shown me the greatest kindness. He found me a husband and gave me some excellent advice, which has proved extremely useful to me. But I have retained friends in Paris; and I swear to you that you have only just got time left to cling on to the branches if you don’t want to fall. Don’t be a pagan any longer, but go and offer your hand to Abbé Faujas. You will understand why later on, even if you can’t guess it to-day.’

Monsieur Péqueur des Saulaies lowered his eyes and seemed a little humiliated by the lesson he was receiving. He was very conceited, and, showing his white teeth, he tried to re-assert himself by murmuring tenderly:

‘Ah! if you had only been willing, Octavie, we might have governed Plassans between us. I asked you to resume that delightful life — ‘

‘Really now, you are a great idiot!’ she interrupted in a tone of vexation. ‘You annoy me with your “Octavie.” I am Madame de Condamin to everyone, my friend. Can’t you understand anything? I have an income of thirty thousand francs; I am queen of a whole Sub-Prefecture; I go every­where; I am respected everywhere, bowed to and liked. What in the world should I do with you? You would only inconvenience me. I am a respectable woman, my friend.’

She rose from her seat and walked towards Doctor Por­quier, who, according to his custom, had come to spend an hour in the garden chatting to his fair patients, after a round of visits.

‘Oh, doctor!’ she exclaimed, with one of her pretty gri­maces, ‘I have got such a headache. It pains me just here, under the left eyebrow.’

‘That is the side of the heart, madame,’ said the doctor, gallantly.

Madame de Condamin smiled and did not carry the con­sultation any further. Madame Paloque, who was present, bent, however, towards her husband, whom she brought with her every time she came, in order that she might recommend him to the sub-prefect’s influence, and whispered in his ear:

‘That’s the only way Porquier has of curing them.’

When Monsieur Péqueur des Saulaies had joined Mon­sieur de Condamin and Monsieur Delangre he manoeuvred cleverly in such wise as to draw them towards the gateway. When he was within a few yards of it, he stopped and appeared to be interested in the game of shuttlecock which was still going on in the lane. Abbé Surin, with his hair blown about by the wind, the sleeves of his cassock rolled up, and his slender, white, womanly wrists displayed, had just stepped backwards, putting some twenty yards between him­self and Mademoiselle Aurélie. He felt that he was being watched, and he quite surpassed himself. Mademoiselle Aurélie was also playing extremely well, spurred on, as it were, by the skill of her partner. Thus the shuttlecock described long gentle curves with such regularity that it seemed to light of its own accord upon the battledores, going from one to the other player without either of them having to stir from their places. Abbé Surin, inclined slightly back­wards, displayed his well-shaped bust to advantage.

‘Excellent! excellent!’ cried the sub-prefect. ‘Ah! Monsieur l’Abbé, I must compliment you upon your skill.’

Then, turning towards Madame de Condamin, Doctor Porquier and the Paloques, he exclaimed:

‘I’ve really never seen anything like it before. You will allow us to admire your play, I hope, Monsieur l’Abbé?’

The whole set of the Sub-Prefecture now formed into a group at the far end of the lane. Abbé Faujas had not moved from the position he had taken up. Having acknow­ledged with a nod the salutations of Monsieur Delangre and Monsieur de Condamin, he went on counting the points of the game. When Aurélie at last missed the shuttlecock, he said good-naturedly:

‘That makes you three hundred and ten points, for the distance was altered; your sister has only forty-seven.’

However, while he appeared to follow the flight of the shuttlecock with all-absorbing interest, he every now and then glanced at the door of the Rastoils’ garden, which still re­mained open. Monsieur Maffre was as yet the only person who had shown himself there; but at last a voice called from inside the garden:

‘What is amusing them so much out there?’ It was Monsieur Rastoil, who was chatting with Monsieur de Bourdeu beside the rustic table, that asked the question.

‘His lordship’s secretary is playing at shuttlecock,’ Mon­sieur Maffre replied. ‘He is making some wonderful strokes and everybody is watching him. His reverence the Curé is there, and seems quite amazed.’

Monsieur de Bourdeu took a big pinch of snuff as he exclaimed:

‘Ah! Monsieur l’Abbé Faujas is there, is he?’

He glanced at Monsieur Rastoil, and they both seemed ill at ease.

‘I have heard,’ remarked the presiding judge, ‘that the Curé has been restored to the Bishop’s favour.’

‘Yes, indeed; this very morning,’ said Monsieur Maffre.

‘There has been a complete reconciliation, and I have heard some touching particulars about it. His lordship shed tears. Ah, there can be no doubt that Abbé Fenil has cause for self-reproach.’

‘I thought that you were the grand vicar’s friend,’ ob­served Monsieur de Bourdeu.

‘So I am, but I am also the Curé’s friend,’ replied the justice of the peace. ‘Thank goodness! he is a man of sufficient piety to be able to despise all the calumnies of his enemies. They haven’t even hesitated to question his morality! It is disgraceful!’

The ex-prefect again glanced at the presiding judge with a singular expression.

‘And they’ve tried to compromise him in political matters,’ continued Monsieur Maffre. ‘They said that he had come here to overturn everything, to bestow places right and left and bring about the triumph of the Paris clique. Why, if he had been the chief of a band of brigands folks couldn’t have said worse things about him than they have done. A pack of lies, all of them!’

Monsieur de Bourdeu was drawing a face on the gravel of the walk with the tip of his walking-stick.!

‘Yes,’ he said, carelessly,’ I have heard these things men­tioned. But it is very unlikely that a minister of religion would allow himself to play such a part; and besides, to the honour of Plassans, I think it may be said that he would have failed completely. There is no one here who could be bought.’

‘Oh! it’s all stuff and nonsense, that!’ cried the presiding judge, shrugging his shoulders. ‘A town can’t be turned inside out like an old coat. Paris may send us as many spies and agents as she likes, but Plassans will always keep Legitimist. Look at that little Péqueur now! We’ve only made a single mouthful of him! Folks must be very stupid to believe in mysterious personages running about the provinces offering places and appointments. I should be very curious to see one of those gentlemen.’

He seemed to be getting a little angry, and Monsieur Maffre, with some show of uneasiness, appeared to think it necessary to defend himself.

‘Pardon me,’ he exclaimed. ‘I have never asserted that Abbé Faujas was a Bonapartist agent; on the contrary, I have always considered the accusation a most absurd one.’

‘Oh! it’s not a question of Abbé Faujas. My remarks are quite general. People don’t sell themselves in that way! Abbé Faujas is above all suspicion.’

There was an interval of silence. Monsieur de Bourdeu finished the face he was drawing on the gravel by adding a long pointed beard to it.

‘Abbé Faujas has no political views,’ he at last said in his dry voice.

‘Evidently,’ replied Monsieur Rastoil; ‘we found fault with him for his indifference, but now I approve of it. With all this gossip in the air, it would have had a prejudicial effect upon religion. You know as well as I do, Bourdeu, that he can’t be accused of the slightest suspicious step. He has never been seen at the Sub-Prefecture, has he? He kept with great propriety in his fitting place. If he were a Bonapartist, he wouldn’t be likely to conceal it, would he?’

‘Certainly not.’

‘Then, too, he leads a most exemplary life. My wife and my son have told me things about him which have affected me very much.’

The merriment in the little lane was now louder than ever. Abbé Faujas could be heard complimenting Made­moiselle Aurélie on some wonderful stroke of her battledore. Monsieur Rastoil, who had checked himself for a moment, continued, with a smile:

‘Just listen to them! What can they find in it to amuse them so much? It makes one quite long to be young again!’