Part 8 (1/2)
Colleville. ”Yes, here it is.”
Fleury [leaning over Colleville's desk]. ”Capital! famous! This is just what will happen if the administration continues to play the hypocrite.”
[He makes a sign to the clerks that Baudoyer is listening.] ”If the government would frankly state its intentions without concealments of any kind, the liberals would know what they had to deal with. An administration which sets its best friends against itself, such men as those of the 'Debats,' Chateaubriand, and Royer-Collard, is only to be pitied!”
Colleville [after consulting his colleagues]. ”Come, Fleury, you're a good fellow, but don't talk politics here; you don't know what harm you may do us.”
Fleury [dryly]. ”Well, adieu, gentlemen; I have my work to do by four o'clock.”
While this idle talk had been going on, des Lupeaulx was closeted in his office with du Bruel, where, a little later, Dutocq joined them. Des Lupeaulx had heard from his valet of La Billardiere's death, and wis.h.i.+ng to please the two ministers, he wanted an obituary article to appear in the evening papers.
”Good morning, my dear du Bruel,” said the semi-minister to the head-clerk as he entered, and not inviting him to sit down. ”You have heard the news? La Billardiere is dead. The ministers were both present when he received the last sacraments. The worthy man strongly recommended Rabourdin, saying he should die with less regret if he could know that his successor were the man who had so constantly done his work. Death is a torture which makes a man confess everything. The minister agreed the more readily because his intention and that of the Council was to reward Monsieur Rabourdin's numerous services. In fact, the Council of State needs his experience. They say that young La Billardiere is to leave the division of his father and go to the Commission of Seals; that's just the same as if the King had made him a present of a hundred thousand francs,--the place can always be sold. But I know the news will delight your division, which will thus get rid of him. Du Bruel, we must get ten or a dozen lines about the worthy late director into the papers; his Excellency will glance them over,--he reads the papers. Do you know the particulars of old La Billardiere's life?”
Du Bruel made a sign in the negative.
”No?” continued des Lupeaulx. ”Well then; he was mixed up in the affairs of La Vendee, and he was one of the confidants of the late King. Like Monsieur le Comte de Fontaine he always refused to hold communication with the First Consul. He was a bit of a 'chouan'; born in Brittany of a parliamentary family, and enn.o.bled by Louis XVIII. How old was he? never mind about that; just say his loyalty was untarnished, his religion enlightened,--the poor old fellow hated churches and never set foot in one, but you had better make him out a 'pious va.s.sal.' Bring in, gracefully, that he sang the song of Simeon at the accession of Charles X. The Comte d'Artois thought very highly of La Billardiere, for he co-operated in the unfortunate affair of Quiberon and took the whole responsibility on himself. You know about that, don't you? La Billardiere defended the King in a printed pamphlet in reply to an impudent history of the Revolution written by a journalist; you can allude to his loyalty and devotion. But be very careful what you say; weigh your words, so that the other newspapers can't laugh at us; and bring me the article when you've written it. Were you at Rabourdin's yesterday?”
”Yes, monseigneur,” said du Bruel, ”Ah! beg pardon.”
”No harm done,” answered des Lupeaulx, laughing.
”Madame Rabourdin looked delightfully handsome,” added du Bruel. ”There are not two women like her in Paris. Some are as clever as she, but there's not one so gracefully witty. Many women may even be handsomer, but it would be hard to find one with such variety of beauty. Madame Rabourdin is far superior to Madame Colleville,” said the vaudevillist, remembering des Lupeaulx's former affair. ”Flavie owes what she is to the men about her, whereas Madame Rabourdin is all things in herself. It is wonderful too what she knows; you can't tell secrets in Latin before /her/. If I had such a wife, I know I should succeed in everything.”
”You have more mind than an author ought to have,” returned des Lupeaulx, with a conceited air. Then he turned round and perceived Dutocq. ”Ah, good-morning, Dutocq,” he said. ”I sent for you to lend me your Charlet--if you have the whole complete. Madame la comtesse knows nothing of Charlet.”
Du Bruel retired.
”Why do you come in without being summoned?” said des Lupeaulx, harshly, when he and Dutocq were left alone. ”Is the State in danger that you must come here at ten o'clock in the morning, just as I am going to breakfast with his Excellency?”
”Perhaps it is, monsieur,” said Dutocq, dryly. ”If I had had the honor to see you earlier, you would probably have not been so willing to support Monsieur Rabourdin, after reading his opinion of you.”
Dutocq opened his coat, took a paper from the left-hand breast-pocket and laid it on des Lupeaulx's desk, pointing to a marked pa.s.sage. Then he went to the door and slipped the bolt, fearing interruption. While he was thus employed, the secretary-general read the opening sentence of the article, which was as follows:
”Monsieur des Lupeaulx. A government degrades itself by openly employing such a man, whose real vocation is for police diplomacy.
He is fitted to deal with the political filibusters of other cabinets, and it would be a pity therefore to employ him on our internal detective police. He is above a common spy, for he is able to understand a plan; he could skilfully carry through a dark piece of work and cover his retreat safely.”
Des Lupeaulx was succinctly a.n.a.lyzed in five or six such paragraphs,--the essence, in fact, of the biographical portrait which we gave at the beginning of this history. As he read the words the secretary felt that a man stronger than himself sat in judgment on him; and he at once resolved to examine the memorandum, which evidently reached far and high, without allowing Dutocq to know his secret thoughts. He therefore showed a calm, grave face when the spy returned to him. Des Lupeaulx, like lawyers, magistrates, diplomatists, and all whose work obliges them to pry into the human heart, was past being surprised at anything. Hardened in treachery and in all the tricks and wiles of hatred, he could take a stab in the back and not let his face tell of it.
”How did you get hold of this paper?”
Dutocq related his good luck; des Lupeaulx's face as he listened expressed no approbation; and the spy ended in terror an account which began triumphantly.
”Dutocq, you have put your finger between the bark and the tree,” said the secretary, coldly. ”If you don't want to make powerful enemies I advise you to keep this paper a profound secret; it is a work of the utmost importance and already well known to me.”
So saying, des Lupeaulx dismissed Dutocq by one of those glances that are more expressive than words.
”Ha! that scoundrel of a Rabourdin has put his finger in this!” thought Dutocq, alarmed on finding himself antic.i.p.ated; ”he has reached the ear of the administration, while I am left out in the cold. I shouldn't have thought it!”
To all his other motives of aversion to Rabourdin he now added the jealousy of one man to another man of the same calling,--a most powerful ingredient in hatred.
When des Lupeaulx was left alone, he dropped into a strange meditation.