La Peyrade turned and left the apartment.

CHAPTER VII. HOW TO SHUT THE DOOR IN PEOPLE'S FACES

On the staircase la Peyrade stopped to exhale, if we may so express it, the happiness of which his heart was full. The words of the countess, the ingenious preparation she had made to put him on the track of her sentiments, seemed to him the guarantee of her sincerity, and he left her full of faith.

Possessed by that intoxication of happy persons which shows itself in their gestures, their looks, their very gait, and sometimes in actions not authorized by their common-sense, after pausing a moment, as we have said, on the staircase, he ran up a few steps till he could see the door of the Thuilliers' apartment.

"At last!" he cried, "fame, fortune, happiness have come to me; but, above all, I can now give myself the joy of vengeance. After Dutocq and Cerizet, I will crush _you_, vile bourgeois brood!"

So saying, he shook his fist at the innocent door. Then he turned and ran out; the popular saying that the earth could not hold him, was true at that moment of his being.

The next day, for he could not restrain any longer the tempest that was swelling within him, la Peyrade went to see Thuillier in the bitterest and most hostile of moods. What was therefore his amazement when, before he had time to put himself on guard and stop the demonstration of union and oblivion, Thuillier flung himself into his arms.

"My friend," cried the munic.i.p.al councillor, as he loosened his clasp, "my political fortune is made; this morning all the newspapers, without exception, have spoken of the seizure of my pamphlet; and you ought to see how the opposition sheets have mauled the government."

"Simple enough," said la Peyrade, not moved by this enthusiasm; "you are a topic for them, that's all. But this does not alter the situation; the prosecution will be only the more determined to have you condemned."

"Well, then," said Thuillier, proudly raising his head, "I will go to prison, like Beranger, like Lamennais, like Armand Carrel."

"My good fellow, persecution is charming at a distance; but when you hear the big bolts run upon you, you may be sure you won't like it as well."

"But," objected Thuillier, "prisoners condemned for political offences are always allowed to do their time in hospital if they like. Besides, I'm not yet convicted. You said yourself you expected to get me acquitted."

"Yes, but since then I have heard things which make that result very doubtful; the same hand that withheld your cross has seized your pamphlet; you are being murdered with premeditation."

"If you know who that dangerous enemy is," said Thuillier, "you can't refuse to point him out to me."

"I don't know him," replied la Peyrade; "I only suspect him. This is what you get by playing too shrewd a game."

"Playing a shrewd game!" said Thuillier, with the curiosity of a man who is perfectly aware that he has nothing of that kind on his conscience.

"Yes," said la Peyrade, "you made a sort of decoy of Celeste to attract young bloods to your salon. All the world has not the forbearance of Monsieur G.o.deschal, who forgave his rejection and generously managed that affair about the house."

"Explain yourself better," said Thuillier, "for I don't see what you mean."

"Nothing is easier to understand. Without counting me, how many suitors have you had for Mademoiselle Colleville? G.o.deschal, Minard junior, Ph.e.l.lion junior, Olivier Vinet, the subst.i.tute judge,--all men who have been sent about their business, as I am."

"Olivier Vinet, the subst.i.tute judge!" cried Thuillier, struck with a flash of light. "Of course; the blow must have come from him. His father, they say, has a long arm. But it can't be truly said that we sent him about his business,--to use your expression, which strikes me as indecorous,--for he never came to the house but once, and made no offer; neither did Minard junior or Ph.e.l.lion junior, for that matter.

G.o.deschal is the only one who risked a direct proposal, and he was refused at once, before he dipped his beak in the water."

"It is always so!" said la Peyrade, still looking for a ground of quarrel. "Straightforward and outspoken persons are always those that sly men boast of fooling."

"Ah ca! what's all this?" said Thuillier; "what are you insinuating?

Didn't you settle everything with Brigitte the other day? You take a pretty time to come and talk to me about your love-affairs, when the sword of justice is hanging over my head."

"Oh!" said la Peyrade, ironically; "so now you are going to make the most of your interesting position of accused person! I knew very well how it would be; I was certain that as soon as your pamphlet appeared the old cry of not getting what you expected out of me would come up."

"Parbleu! your pamphlet!" cried Thuillier. "I think you are a fine fellow to boast of that when, on the contrary, it has caused the most deplorable complications."

"Deplorable? how so? you have just said your political fortune was made."

"Well, truly, my dear Theodose," said Thuillier, with feeling, "I should never have thought that you would choose the hour of adversity to come and put your pistol at our throats and make me the object of your sneers and innuendoes."

"Well done!" said la Peyrade; "now it is the hour of adversity! A minute ago you were flinging yourself into my arms as a man to whom some signal piece of luck had happened. You ought really to choose decidedly between being a man who needs pity and a glorious victor."

"It is all very well to be witty," returned Thuillier; "but you can't controvert what I say. I am logical, if I am not brilliant. It is very natural that I should console myself by seeing that public opinion decides in my favor, and by reading in its organs the most honorable a.s.surances of sympathy; but do you suppose I wouldn't rather that things had taken their natural course? Besides, when I see myself the object of unworthy vengeance on the part of persons as influential as the Vinets, how can I help measuring the extent of the dangers to which I am exposed?"

"Well," said la Peyrade, with pitiless persistency, "I see that you prefer to play the part of Jeremiah."

"Yes," said Thuillier, in a solemn tone. "Jeremiah laments over a friendship I did think true and devoted, but which I find has only sarcasms to give me when I looked for services."

"What services?" asked la Peyrade. "Did you not tell me positively, no later than yesterday, that you would not accept my help under any form whatever? I offered to plead your case, and you answered that you would take a better lawyer."

"Yes; in the first shock of surprise at such an unexpected blow, I did say that foolish thing; but, on reflection, who can explain as well as you can the intention of the words you wrote with your own pen?

Yesterday I was almost out of my mind; but you, with your wounded self-love, which can't forgive a momentary impatience, you are very caustic and cruel."

"So," said la Peyrade, "you formally request me to defend you before the jury?"

"Yes, my dear fellow; and I don't know any other hands in which I could better place my case. I should have to pay a monstrous sum to some great legal luminary, and he wouldn't defend me as ably as you."

"Well, I refuse. Roles have changed, as you see, diametrically.

Yesterday, I thought, as you do, that I was the man to defend you.

To-day, I see that you had better take the legal luminary, because, with Vinet's antagonism against you the affair is taking such proportions that whoever defends it a.s.sumes a fearful responsibility."

"I understand," said Thuillier, sarcastically. "Monsieur has his eye on the magistracy, and he doesn't want to quarrel with a man who is already talked of for Keeper of the Seals. It is prudent, but I don't know that it is going to help on your marriage."

"You mean," said la Peyrade, seizing the ball in its bound, "that to get you out of the claws of that jury is a thirteenth labor of Hercules, imposed upon me to earn the hand of Mademoiselle Colleville? I expected that demands would multiply in proportion to the proofs of my devotion.

But that is the very thing that has worn me out, and I have come here to-day to put an end to this slave labor by giving back to you your pledges. You may dispose of Celeste's hand; for my part, I am no longer a suitor for it."

The unexpectedness and squareness of this declaration left Thuillier without words or voice, all the more because at this moment entered Brigitte. The temper of the old maid had also greatly moderated since the previous evening, and her greeting was full of the most amicable familiarity.

"Ah! so here you are, you good old barrister," she said.

"Mademoiselle, your servant," he replied, gravely.

"Well," she continued, paying no attention to the stiffness of his manner, "the government has got itself into a pretty mess by seizing your pamphlet. You ought to see how the morning papers lash it! Here,"

she added, giving Thuillier a small sheet printed on sugar-paper, in coa.r.s.e type, and almost illegible,--"here's another, you didn't read; the porter has just brought it up. It is a paper from our old quarter, 'L'Echo de la Bievre.' I don't know, gentlemen, if you'll be of my opinion, but I think nothing could be better written. It is droll, though, how inattentive these journalists are! most of them write your name without the H; I think you ought to complain of it."

Thuillier took the paper, and read the article inspired to the reviewer of the tanner's organ by stomach grat.i.tude. Never in her life had Brigitte paid the slightest attention to a newspaper, except to know if it was the right size for the packages she wrapped up in it; but now, suddenly, converted to a worship of the press by the ardor of her sisterly love, she stood behind Thuillier and re-read, over his shoulder, the more striking pa.s.sages of the page she thought so eloquent, pointing her finger to them.

"Yes," said Thuillier, folding up the paper, "that's warm, and very flattering to me. But here's another matter! Monsieur has come to tell me that he refuses to plead for me, and renounces all claim to Celeste's hand."

"That is to say," said Brigitte, "he renounces her if, after having pleaded, the marriage does not take place 'subito.' Well, poor fellow, I think that's a reasonable demand. When he has done that for us there ought to be no further delay; and whether Mademoiselle Celeste likes it or not, she must accept him, because, you know, there's an end to all things."

"Do you hear that, my good fellow?" said la Peyrade, seizing upon Brigitte's speech. "When I have pleaded, the marriage is to take place. Your sister is frankness itself; she, at least, doesn't practise diplomacy."