"You ask for the truth--Listen a moment, a single moment," Ramel whispered in the ear of the minister.

Without mentioning Sulpice's name, he began to question Garnier, who grew bolder and talked and gossiped, his cheek-bones now and then heightened in color by small, pink spots.

"Well! Garnier, about the work?--Oh! you may speak before monsieur, it interests him."

The man shrugged his shoulders with a sad, somewhat bitter smile, but resigned at least. He very quietly, but without any complaint, acknowledged all that he was enduring. Work was in a bad way. It appeared that it was just the same everywhere in Europe, in fact, but indeed that doesn't provide work at the shop. The master, a kind man, in faith, had grown old, and was anxious to sell his business of an art metal worker. He had not found a purchaser, then he had simply closed his shop, being too ill to continue hard work, and the four or five workmen whom he employed found themselves thrown into the street. There it is! Happily for Garnier, he had neither wife nor child, nothing but his own carca.s.s. One can always get one's self out of a difficulty, but the others who had households and brats! Rousselet had five. Matters were not going to be very cheerful at home. He must rely on charity or credit, he did not know what, but something to stave off that distress, real and sad distress, since it was not merited.

"Do you interest yourself in politics?" asked Vaudrey curiously, surmising that this man was possessed of strong and quick intelligence, although he looked so worn and crushed and his cough frequently interrupted his remarks.

Garnier looked at Ramel before replying, then answered in a quiet tone:

"Oh! not now! That is all over. I vote like everybody else, but I let the rest alone. I have had my reckoning."

He had said all this in a low tone without any bitterness and as if burdened with painful memories.

"It is, however, strange, all the same," added the workman, "to observe that the more things change, the more alike they are. Instead of occupying themselves over there with interpellations and seeking to overthrow or to strengthen administrations, would it not be better if they thought a little of those who are dying of hunger? for there are some, it is necessary to admit that such are not wanting! What is it to me whether Pichereau or Vaudrey be minister, when I do not know at the moment where I shall sleep when I have spent my savings, and whether the baker will give me credit now that I am without a shop?"

At the mention of Vaudrey's name, Ramel wished to make a sign to this man, but Sulpice had just seized the hand of his old friend and pressed it as if to entreat him not to interrupt the conversation. The voice that he heard, interrupted by a cough, was the voice of a workman and he did not hear such every day.

"Note well that I am not a bl.u.s.terer or a disturber, isn't that so, Monsieur Ramel? I have always been content with my lot, myself--One receives and executes orders and one is satisfied. Everything goes on all right--My politics at present is my work; when I shall have broken my back to bring journalists into power--I beg your pardon, Monsieur Ramel, you know very well that it is not of you that I speak thus--I shall be no fatter for it, I presume. I only want just to keep life and soul together, if it can be done. I suppose you could not find me a place, Monsieur Ramel? I would do anything, heavy work if need be, or bookkeeping, if it is desired. I would like bookkeeping better, although it is not my line, because the forge fire, the coal and heat, as you see, affect me there now--he touched his neck--it strangles me and hastens the end too quickly. It is true for that I am in the world."

Vaudrey felt himself stirred even to his bones by the mournful, musical voice of the consumptive, by this true misery, this poverty expressed without phrases and this claim of labor. All the questions _yonder_, as Garnier said, in the committees and sub-committees, in the tribune and in the lobbies, discussions, disputes, personal questions cloaked under the guise of the general welfare, suddenly appeared to him as petty and vain, narrow and egotistical beside the formidable question of bread which was propounded to him so quietly by this man of the people, who was not a rebel of the violent days, but the unfortunate brother, the eternal Lazarus crying, without threat, but simply, sadly: "And I?"

He would have liked, without making himself known, to give something to this sufferer, to promise him a position. He did not dare to offer it or to mention his name. The man would have refused charity and the minister, in all the personnel of bustling employes, often useless, that fill the ministry, had not a single place to give to this workman whose chest was on fire and whose throat was choking.

"I will return and we will talk about him," he said to Ramel, as he arose, indicating Garnier by a nod. "Do not tell him who I am. On my word, I should be ashamed--Poor devil!"

"Multiply him by three or four hundred thousand, and be a statesman,"

said Ramel.

Vaudrey bowed to the workman, who rose quickly and returned his salute with timid eagerness, and the minister went rapidly down the stairs of the little house and jumped into his carriage, making haste to get away.

He bore with him a feeling akin to remorse, and in all sincerity, for he still heard ringing in his ears, the poor consumptive's voice saying:

"What is it to me, who am suffering, whether Vaudrey or Pichereau be minister?"

On reaching Place Beauvau, he found a despatch requesting his immediate presence at the elysee. At the Palace he received information that surprised him like a thunderbolt. Monsieur Collard--of Nantes--had just been struck down by apoplexy in the corridors of the ministry. The President of the Council was dead and the Chief of the State had turned to Vaudrey to fill the high position which, but two hours before, had been held by Monsieur Collard.

President of the Council! He, Vaudrey! Head of the Ministry! The first in his country after the supreme head? The joyful surprise that such a proposition caused him, so occupied his mind that he was unable to feel very much moved by the loss of Monsieur Collard--of Nantes--. Sulpice, moreover, had never profoundly cared for this austere advocate, although he had been much a.s.sociated with him. His liking for this man who brought to the Council old-time opinions and preconceived ideas was a merely political affection. The President's offer proved to him that his own popularity, as well as his influence over parliament, had only increased since his recent entry on public life. He was then about to be in a position to a.s.sert his individuality still better. What a glorious time for Gren.o.ble and what wry faces Granet would make!

Sulpice hastened to announce this news to Adrienne, although it would not become official until after Collard's funeral obsequies. He returned almost triumphantly to the Hotel Beauvau. Only one thought, a sombre image, clouded his joy: it was not the memory of Collard, but the sad image of the man whom he had met at Ramel's, and who, when the _Officiel_ should speak, should make the announcement, would shrug his shoulders and say ironically:

"Well! and what then?"

He had scarcely whispered these words to Adrienne: "President of the Council! I am President of the Council!" when, without being astonished at the faint, almost indifferent smile that escaped the young wife, he suddenly thought that he was under obligation to make a personal visit to the Ministry of Justice where Collard was lying dead.

He ordered himself to be driven quickly to Place Vendome.

At every moment, carriages brought to the ministry men of grave mien, decorated with the red ribbon, who entered wearing expressions suitable to the occasion and inscribed their names in silence on the register, pa.s.sing the pen from one to another just as the aspergillus is pa.s.sed along in church. Everybody stood aside on noticing Vaudrey. It seemed to him that they instinctively divined that Collard being out of the way it was he who must be the man of the hour, the necessary man, the President of the Council marked out in advance, the chief of the coming _ministry_.

"Poor Collard!" thought Sulpice, as he inscribed his name on the register. "One will never be able to say: the _Collard Administration_.

But it would be glorious if one day history said: the _Vaudrey Administration_."

He re-entered the Hotel Beauvau, inflated with the idea. In the antechamber, there were more office-seekers than were usually in attendance. One of them, on seeing Vaudrey, rose and ran to him and said quickly to Sulpice, who did not stop:

"Ah! Monsieur le Ministre--What a misfortune--Monsieur Collard--If there were no eminent men like Your Excellency to replace him!--"

Vaudrey bowed without replying.

"What is the name of that gentleman?" said he as soon as he entered his cabinet, to the usher who followed him. "I always find him, but I cannot recognize him."

"He! Monsieur le Ministre? Why, that is, _Monsieur Eugene_!"

"Ah! very good! That is right! The eternal Monsieur Eugene!"

Just then Warcolier opened the door, looking more morose than sad, and holding a letter that he crushed in his hand, while at the same time he greeted Vaudrey with a number of long phrases concerning the dreadful, unexpected, sudden, unlooked-for, crushing death--he did not select his epithets, but allowed them to flow as from an overrunning cask--the dramatic decease of Collard--of Nantes--. From time to time, Warcolier, while speaking, cast an involuntary, angry glance at the paper that he twisted in his fingers, so much so that Vaudrey, feeling puzzled, at last asked him what the letter was.

"Don't speak to me about it--" said the fat man. "An imbecile!"

"What imbecile?"

"An imbecile whom I received with some little courtesy the other morning--I who, nevertheless, go to so much trouble to make myself agreeable."

"And that is no sinecure!--Well, the imbecile in question?"

"Left furious, no doubt, because of the reception accorded him--and to me, me, the Under-Secretary of State, this is the letter that he writes, that he dares to write! Here, Monsieur le Ministre, listen! Was ever such stupidity seen? '_Monsieur le Secretaire d'Etat, you have under your orders a very badly trained Undersecretary of State, who will make you many enemies, I warn you. As you are his direct superior, I permit myself to notify you of his conduct_,' etc., etc. You laugh?" said Warcolier, seeing that a smile was spreading over Vaudrey's blond-bearded face.

"Yes, it is so odd!--Your correspondent is evidently ignorant that there are only Under-Secretaries of State in the administration!--unless this innocent is but simply an insolent fellow."

"If I thought that!" said Warcolier, enraged. "No, but it is true," he said with astonishing candor, a complete overflowing of his satisfied egotism, "there are a lot of people who ask for everything and are good for nothing!--Malcontents!--I should like to know why they are malcontents!--What are they dreaming about, then? What do they want? I am asking myself ever since I came into office: What is it they want?

Doesn't the present government carry out the will of the majority?--It is just like those journalists with their nagging articles!--They squall and mock! What they print is disgusting! Granted that we have demanded liberty, but that does not mean license!"

While Warcolier, entirely concerned about himself, with erect head and oratorical gesture, spoke as if in the presence of two thousand hearers, Sulpice Vaudrey again recalled, still sad and sick, the dark and sunken cheeks and the colorless ears, the poor projecting ears of the consumptive Garnier with whom he had come in contact at Ramel's.

He was anxious to be with Adrienne again, and above all, with Marianne.

What would his mistress say to him when she knew of his reaching the presidency of the Council?

Adrienne had certainly received the news with little pleasure.

"If you are happy!"--was all she said, with a sigh.

It was the very expression she had used at the moment when, on the formation of the "Collard Cabinet," he had gone to her and cried out: "I am a minister!"

Adrienne was impa.s.sive.

In truth, Sulpice was beginning to think that she was too indifferent to the serious affairs of life. The delightful joys of intimacy, now, moreover, discounted, ought not to make a woman forget the public successes of her husband. Instinctively comparing this gentle, slender blonde, resigned and pensive, with Marianne, with her tawny locks and pa.s.sionate nature, whom he adored more intensely each day, Vaudrey thought that a man in his position, with his ambition and merit, would have been more powerfully aided, aye, even doubled in power and success by a creature as strongly intelligent, as energetic and as fertile in resource as Mademoiselle Kayser.

He still had before him a peculiar smile of indefinable superiority expressed by his mistress when Adrienne and Marianne chanced to meet one evening at the theatre, which made him feel that his mistress was watching and a.n.a.lyzing his wife. The next day, Marianne with exquisite grace, but keen as a poisoned dart, said to him: