Part 13 (1/2)

The small wood of green oaks which seemed to beckon him:

--Come over here, Sub-Prefect, you will find composing your speech much easier in the shade of my trees....

The Sub-Prefect was captivated; he jumped down from the barouche and told his men to wait there for him, as he was going to compose his speech over in the small wood of green oaks.

In the small wood of green oaks, there were birds, violets, and springs hidden in the delicate gra.s.s.... When the birds noticed the Sub-Prefect with his gorgeous breeches and his large, leather-embossed briefcase, they became alarmed and stop singing, the springs are scared and stop their babbling, and the violets hid themselves in the gra.s.s.... This whole world in miniature had never seen a Sub-Prefect before, and they quietly wondered who this dignitary was, walking around in silver breeches.

Meanwhile, the Sub-Prefect, delighted by the silence and the coolness of the wood, lifted his coat-tails, put his hat on the gra.s.s, and sat down in the moss at the foot of a young oak. He then put the large, leather-embossed briefcase on his knees, opened it, and took out a long sheet of official paper.

--He's an artist, said the warbler.

--No, said the bullfinch, he's not an artist; with his silver breeches, he's more of a prince.

--He's more of a prince, said the bullfinch.

--He's neither an artist nor a prince, interrupted an old nightingale, who had sang all season in the district's gardens.... I know what he is; he's a Sub-Prefect!

And the whole woodland came alive with the rumour:

--He's a Sub-Prefect! He's a Sub-Prefect!

--He's bald! remarked a crested lark.

The violets asked:

--Is he a bad man?

--Is he a bad man? asked the violets.

The old nightingale replied:

--Not at all! And with that rea.s.surance, the birds started to sing again, the streams to flow, and the violets to perfume the air, just as though the gentleman wasn't there.... Ignoring all this pretty clamour, the Sub-Prefect invoked the spirit of the country fetes, and, pencil at the ready, began to declaim in his ceremonial voice:

--Gentlemen and const.i.tuents....

--Gentlemen and const.i.tuents.... said the Sub-Prefect in his ceremonial voice....

A cackle of laughter broke his concentration; he turned round and saw a lone fat woodp.e.c.k.e.r, perched on his opera hat, looking at him and laughing. The Sub-Prefect shrugged his shoulders and readied himself to continue, but the woodp.e.c.k.e.r interrupted him again:

--What is the point?

--I beg your pardon! What is the point? said the Sub-Prefect, who was flus.h.i.+ng all over, and shooing the cheeky animal away, he resumed even more pompously:

--Gentlemen and const.i.tuents....

--Gentlemen and const.i.tuents.... once again resumed the Sub-Prefect even more pompously.

Then, the little violets stretched their stems out towards him and kindly asked him:

--Sub-Prefect, can you smell our lovely perfume?