Part 16 (1/2)
”Do I need,” she asked, ”to know a scheme the essence of which is to govern France with a civil service of six thousand men instead of twenty thousand? My dear friend, even allowing it were the plan of a man of genius, a king of France who attempted to carry it out would get himself dethroned. You can keep down a feudal aristocracy by levelling a few heads, but you can't subdue a hydra with thousands. And is it with the present ministers--between ourselves, a wretched crew--that you expect to carry out your reform? No, no; change the monetary system if you will, but do not meddle with men, with little men; they cry out too much, whereas gold is dumb.”
”But, Celestine, if you will talk, and put wit before argument, we shall never understand each other.”
”Understand! I understand what that paper, in which you have a.n.a.lyzed the capacities of the men in office, will lead to,” she replied, paying no attention to what her husband said. ”Good heavens! you have sharpened the axe to cut off your own head. Holy Virgin! why didn't you consult me? I could have at least prevented you from committing anything to writing, or, at any rate, if you insisted on putting it to paper, I would have written it down myself, and it should never have left this house. Good G.o.d! to think that he never told me! That's what men are!
capable of sleeping with the wife of their bosom for seven years, and keeping a secret from her! Hiding their thoughts from a poor woman for seven years!--doubting her devotion!”
”But,” cried Rabourdin, provoked, ”for eleven years and more I have been unable to discuss anything with you because you insist on cutting me short and subst.i.tuting your ideas for mine. You know nothing at all about my scheme.”
”Nothing! I know all.”
”Then tell it to me!” cried Rabourdin, angry for the first time since his marriage.
”There! it is half-past six o'clock; finish shaving and dress at once,”
she cried hastily, after the fas.h.i.+on of women when pressed on a point they are not ready to talk of. ”I must go; we'll adjourn the discussion, for I don't want to be nervous on a reception-day. Good heavens! the poor soul!” she thought, as she left the room, ”it /is/ hard to be in labor for seven years and bring forth a dead child! And not trust his wife!”
She went back into the room.
”If you had listened to me you would never had interceded to keep your chief clerk; he stole that abominable paper, and has, no doubt, kept a fac-simile of it. Adieu, man of genius!”
Then she noticed the almost tragic expression of her husband's grief; she felt she had gone too far, and ran to him, seized him just as he was, all lathered with soap-suds, and kissed him tenderly.
”Dear Xavier, don't be vexed,” she said. ”To-night, after the people are gone, we will study your plan; you shall speak at your ease,--I will listen just as long as you wish me to. Isn't that nice of me? What do I want better than to be the wife of Mohammed?”
She began to laugh; and Rabourdin laughed too, for the soapsuds were clinging to Celestine's lips, and her voice had the tones of the purest and most steadfast affection.
”Go and dress, dear child; and above all, don't say a word of this to des Lupeaulx. Swear you will not. That is the only punishment that I impose--”
”/Impose/!” she cried. ”Then I won't swear anything.”
”Come, come, Celestine, I said in jest a really serious thing.”
”To-night,” she said, ”I mean your general-secretary to know whom I am really intending to attack; he has given me the means.”
”Attack whom?”
”The minister,” she answered, drawing himself up. ”We are to be invited to his wife's private parties.”
In spite of his Celestine's loving caresses, Rabourdin, as he finished dressing, could not prevent certain painful thoughts from clouding his brow.
”Will she ever appreciate me?” he said to himself. ”She does not even understand that she is the sole incentive of my whole work. How wrong-headed, and yet how excellent a mind!--If I had not married I might now have been high in office and rich. I could have saved half my salary; my savings well-invested would have given me to-day ten thousand francs a year outside of my office, and I might then have become, through a good marriage--Yes, that is all true,” he exclaimed, interrupting himself, ”but I have Celestine and my two children.” The man flung himself back on his happiness. To the best of married lives there come moments of regret. He entered the salon and looked around him. ”There are not two women in Paris who understand making life pleasant as she does. To keep such a home as this on twelve thousand francs a year!” he thought, looking at the flower-stands bright with bloom, and thinking of the social enjoyments that were about to gratify his vanity. ”She was made to be the wife of a minister. When I think of his Excellency's wife, and how little she helps him! the good woman is a comfortable middle-cla.s.s dowdy, and when she goes to the palace or into society--” He pinched his lips together. Very busy men are apt to have very ignorant notions about household matters, and you can make them believe that a hundred thousand francs afford little or that twelve thousand afford all.
Though impatiently expected, and in spite of the flattering dishes prepared for the palate of the gourmet-emeritus, des Lupeaulx did not come to dinner; in fact he came in very late, about midnight, an hour when company dwindles and conversations become intimate and confidential. Andoche Finot, the journalist, was one of the few remaining guests.
”I now know all,” said des Lupeaulx, when he was comfortably seated on a sofa at the corner of the fireplace, a cup of tea in his hand and Madame Rabourdin standing before him with a plate of sandwiches and some slices of cake very appropriately called ”leaden cake.” ”Finot, my dear and witty friend, you can render a great service to our gracious queen by letting loose a few dogs upon the men we were talking of. You have against you,” he said to Rabourdin, lowering his voice so as to be heard only by the three persons whom he addressed, ”a set of usurers and priests--money and the church. The article in the liberal journal was inst.i.tuted by an old money-lender to whom the paper was under obligations; but the young fellow who wrote it cares nothing about it.
The paper is about to change hands, and in three days more will be on our side. The royalist opposition,--for we have, thanks to Monsieur de Chateaubriand, a royalist opposition, that is to say, royalists who have gone over to the liberals,--however, there's no need to discuss political matters now,--these a.s.sa.s.sins of Charles X. have promised me to support your appointment at the price of our acquiescence in one of their amendments. All my batteries are manned. If they threaten us with Baudoyer we shall say to the clerical phalanx, 'Such and such a paper and such and such men will attack your measures and the whole press will be against you' (for even the ministerial journals which I influence will be deaf and dumb, won't they, Finot?). 'Appoint Rabourdin, a faithful servant, and public opinion is with you--'”
”Hi, hi!” laughed Finot.
”So, there's no need to be uneasy,” said des Lupeaulx. ”I have arranged it all to-night; the Grand Almoner must yield.”