Complete Works of Emile Zola (443 page)

The reception was held in the large drawing-room of the prefecture. Du Poizat made the presentations, and the minister received all the guests with smiling bows as though they were old friends. He exhibited wonderful knowledge about each of them. He spoke to the public prosecutor of a speech lately made by him in the course of a trial for adultery; he asked the comptroller of taxes, in sympathetic tones, after the health of his wife, who had been laid up for the last two months; he detained the colonel of the seventy-eighth for a moment to let him see that he was not un­acquainted with the brilliant progress made by his son at Saint Cyr; he talked about boots to a municipal councillor, who owned a great boot-making establishment; while with the registrar, who was an enthusiastic archæologist, he dis­cussed a druidical stone which had been discovered during the previous week. Whenever he hesitated, thinking of the right thing to say, Du Poizat came to his assistance and cleverly prompted him in a whisper.

As the President of the Tribunal of Commerce came into the room and bowed to him, Rougon exclaimed, in an affable voice: ‘Ah! are you alone, Monsieur le Président? At all events I trust that we shall have the pleasure of seeing your wife at the banquet this evening — ‘

He stopped short, noticing the expression of embarrass­ment which came over the faces around him. Du Poizat, moreover, nudged his elbow. Then he recollected that the President of the Tribunal of Commerce was living apart from his wife in consequence of certain scandals. He had made a mistake. He had thought that he was addressing the other president, the chief judge of the Civil Tribunal. However, he was in no way disconcerted. He still smiled; and, making no reference to his unfortunate remark, continued, with a shrewd air: ‘I have a pleasant piece of news for you, monsieur. I know that my colleague, the Minister of Justice, has put your name down for the cross of the Legion of Honour. Perhaps I ought not to have mentioned it, but you will keep my secret.’

The President of the Tribunal of Commerce turned quite scarlet. He almost choked with joy. His friends pressed round him to congratulate him, while Rougon made a mental note of this cross — which he had so opportunely thought of bestowing — so that he might not forget to mention the matter to his colleague. It was the betrayed husband that he was decorating. Du Poizat smiled with admiration.

There were now some fifty people in the drawing-room. They still waited on; but the faces of many of them were beginning to show signs of weariness.

‘Time is flying; we might perhaps make a start,’ said the minister.

But the prefect bent towards him, and explained that the deputy, M. Kahn’s former opponent, had not yet arrived. Presently, however, this gentleman made his appearance, perspiring profusely. His watch had stopped, he said, and he had been quite put out of his reckoning. Then, wishing to let the company know of his visit on the previous evening, he went on to remark, in a loud voice: ‘As I was saying to your excellency last night — ‘ And afterwards he walked off alongside of Rougon and informed him that he intended to return to Paris on the following morning. The Easter recess had terminated on the previous Tuesday, and the Chamber was again sitting. He had considered it his duty, however, to remain for a few days longer at Niort in order to welcome his excellency to the department.

All the guests trooped into the courtyard of the prefecture, where ten carriages, drawn up on either side of the steps, were awaiting them. The minister, the deputy, the prefect and the mayor got into the first barouche. The others installed themselves as hierarchically as they could. There were two more barouches as well as three victorias, and some waggonettes with seats for six or eight persons. The procession formed up in the Rue de la Préfecture, and started off at a gentle trot. The ladies’ ribbons streamed in the air, and here and there their skirts protruded out of the carriages, while the gentlemen’s black hats shone brightly in the sun. The procession had to pass through a considerable section of the town; and, owing to the rough pavement of the narrow streets, the vehicles jolted dreadfully as they passed on with a crash like that of iron. And at every door and every window were townsfolk who bowed in silence while looking for his excellency, and experiencing much surprise when they saw his plain frock-coat beside the prefect’s gold-laced uniform.

On leaving the town, the procession passed along a wide promenade planted with magnificent trees. It was a warm, pleasant, April day, with a clear sky full of sunlight. The road, which was straight and level, lay between gardens gay with blossoming lilacs and apricot trees. Presently, how­ever, cultivated fields spread out, dotted here and there with copses.

‘That’s a spinning mill, isn’t it?’ asked Rougon, towards whom the prefect had just bent. ‘A mill which belongs to you, I believe,’ he continued, addressing the mayor, and calling his attention to a red brick building on the river bank. ‘I have heard of your new system of wool carding. I will try to find time to go and inspect all those wonders.’

Then he began to ask some questions respecting the motive power of the river. In his opinion, said he, hydraulic power, under favourable conditions, possessed enormous advantages. He quite astonished the mayor by the amount of technical knowledge he displayed. Meantime the other carriages followed on in somewhat irregular fashion. Snatches of conversation, bristling with figures, could be heard amidst the jog-trot of the horses. Then a rippling laugh attracted everyone’s attention. It came from the head­master’s wife, whose sun-shade had just flown away and fallen on to a heap of stones.

‘You have a farm about here, haven’t you?’ said Rougon, turning to the deputy with a smile. ‘That’s it on the hill, if I’m not mistaken, What splendid meadows! I know that you interest yourself in cattle-breeding, and won several prizes at the last shows.’

Then they began to talk about cattle. Steeped in the sunshine, the meadows looked like soft green velvet. Wild flowers were springing up all over them. Athwart the curtains of tall poplar trees one had glimpses of charming bits of landscape. However, an old woman leading an ass came along and was obliged to stop at the roadside to let the pro­cession pass. The ass, frightened by the sight of so many carriages with panels gleaming in the sunshine, began to bray; but the gaily dressed ladies and begloved gentlemen remained perfectly serious.

The procession now climbed a slight hill on the left, and then descended again. They had reached the scene of the ceremony. It was a sort of
cul-de-sac,
a hollow gap walled in by hills on three sides. Nothing broke upon the prospect save the gaping ruins of a couple of windmills. And in this hollow, in the centre of a patch of grass land, a tent of grey canvas, with a wide crimson border, had been set up; its four sides were decorated with trophies of flags. A thousand sightseers, middle-class folks and peasants whose curiosity had induced them to walk over, had taken up position in the shade on the right-hand side, where one of the hills rose up like an amphitheatre. A detachment of the seventy-eighth regiment was ranged in front of the tent, opposite the Niort firemen, whose fine bearing was much noticed; while a gang of navvies in new blouses, with engineers in frock-coats at their head, stood waiting at the edge of the patch of grass. As soon as the carriages appeared, the Niort Philharmonic Society, composed of amateur instrumentalists, began to play the overture to ‘La Dame Blanche.’

‘Long live his excellency! cried a few persons whose voices were drowned by the sound of the instruments.

Rougon alighted from his carriage, raised his eyes, and looked about the hollow in which he found himself, vexed to find the spot so small, so shut in, for this seemed to detract from the impressiveness of the ceremony. He stood for a moment on the grass, waiting for some one to receive him. At last M. Kahn hastened up. He had left the prefecture immediately after
déjeuner,
and had just been to examine the mine which his excellency was to fire, to see if all were right. It was he who conducted the minister into the tent; and then the guests followed. There was some little confusion for a moment; and Rougon began to ask for particulars. ‘It is yonder, then, in that cutting, that the tunnel is to commence?’

‘Exactly,’ replied M. Kahn. ‘The first mine has been laid in that reddish rock where your excellency sees a flag flying.’

The hill-side at the end of the hollow had been broken up by picks till its rocky base was disclosed to view. Several uprooted trees were lying about amongst the excavations, and the cutting was strewn with foliage. M. Kahn pointed out the course the line would take. It was marked by a double row of stakes stretching away amid grass and paths and thickets. It was a pretty piece of quiet country that they were going to rip up.

However, the guests and officials had by this time collected in the tent. Some curious sightseers in the rear were bending forward to glance through the openings, and the instrumenta­lists of the Philharmonic Society was just finishing the overture to ‘La Dame Blanche.’

‘Monsieur le ministre,’ suddenly exclaimed a shrill voice which vibrated amidst the silence, ‘it is my privilege to be the first to thank your excellency for having so kindly accepted the invitation which we ventured to address to you. The department of Deux-Sèvres will ever preserve a grateful recollection — ‘

It was Du Poizat who had begun to speak. He stood some three yards away from Rougon; and at the finish of certain sentences they slightly bowed to one another. The prefect went on speaking for a good quarter of an hour. He reminded the minister of the brilliant fashion in which he had repre­sented the department in the Legislative Assembly. The town of Niort had then inscribed his name in its annals as that of a benefactor, and longed for any occasion upon which it might show its gratitude. Every now and then the prefect’s voice was quite lost in the air, and only his gestures, an even, regular working of his right arm, could be seen; and then the crowd ranged on the hill-side gave their attention to the gold embroidery on his sleeve, which flashed brightly in the sunshine.

Afterwards, however, M. Kahn stepped into the middle of the tent. He had a very deep voice, and seemed to bark out some of his words. The hill-side gave an echo which repeated snatches of sentences upon which he lingered too complacently.

He spoke of all the long efforts, studies and toilsome steps which had devolved upon him during nearly four years in his struggle to obtain a new line for the district. Now, every kind of prosperity would rain down upon the department. The fields would be fertilised; the factories would double their output; and commerce would make its way into the humblest villages. To hear him talk, it might have been supposed that Deux-Sèvres was about to become a sort of fairy-land, with rivers of milk and enchanted groves, where tables laden with good things would await every passer-by. All at once, however, he affected an exaggerated modesty. They owed him, said he, no gratitude whatever. He himself could never have carried out such a vast scheme without the high patronage of which he was so proud. Then, turning towards Rougon, he called him ‘the illustrious minister, the promoter and supporter of every useful and noble idea.’ In conclusion, he dwelt upon the financial advantages of the scheme. At the Bourse, he said, people were fighting for the shares. Happy were those who had been able to invest their money in an enterprise with which his Excellency, the Minister of the Interior had been willing to connect his name!

‘Hear! hear!’ cried some of the guests.

The mayor and several of the officials grasped M. Kahn’s hand. He affected to be greatly moved. Outside there were bursts of cheering, and the bandsmen of the Philharmonic Society considered it proper to strike up a quick march. Thereupon the mayor’s assessor sprang forward and sent a fireman to silence them. In the meantime, the chief surveyor of bridges and highways was hesitating and repeating that he had prepared no speech for the occasion. However, as the prefect continued to press him, he gave way. At this M. Kahn seemed very uneasy, and murmured to Du Poizat: ‘You’ve made a mistake. He’s sure to say something nasty.’

The chief surveyor was a tall, lean man, who considered himself endowed with great powers of irony. He spoke slowly, and gave a twist to his mouth every time he delivered himself of one of his epigrammatic thrusts. He commenced his speech by overwhelming M. Kahn with praises. Then the unpleasant remarks began; and he briefly criticised the projected railway with all the contempt of a government engineer for the plans and designs of a private one. He referred to the opposition scheme of the Western Company, which had contemplated carrying the line past Thouars, and he laid stress, without seeming to do so maliciously, upon the fact that the loop in M. Kahn’s plan would benefit the blast-furnaces at Bressuire. There was nothing obviously bitter in what he said, but amidst his pleasant sentences there was many a little stab which could be felt only by the initiated. He became, how­ever, more cruel towards the end of his speech, when he seemed to regret that ‘the illustrious minister’ should have run the risk of compromising himself by countenancing an undertaking whose financial prospects were a source of dis­quietude to all men of experience. Enormous sums of money would be wanted, he said, as well as the greatest integrity and most perfect disinterestedness. Then, in conclusion, he gave his mouth a twist and spoke in this fashion: ‘That these fears, however, are quite chimerical we can have no doubt, when we see at the head of the undertaking a man whose wealth and high commercial probity are so well known throughout the department.’

A murmur of approval ran through the audience; though a few people glanced at M. Kahn, who with pale lips was endeavouring to smile. Rougon had listened with his eyes half closed, as though he were inconvenienced by the bright­ness of the light. When he opened them again they were black and stern. His original intention had been to make a very brief speech indeed; but he now felt that he had to defend one of his own band. With three steps he reached the edge of the tent, and there, with a sweeping gesture that seemed to call upon all France to listen to him, he began: ‘Gentlemen, let me in imagination overleap these hills which surround us and embrace the whole empire at one glance, and thus exalt the ceremony which has brought us together by making it a festival of industrial and commercial labour. At this very moment, while I am now addressing you, from the north to the south of the country canals are being exca­vated, railway lines are being laid down, mountains are being tunnelled, bridges are being built — ‘