THE COMPLETE ROUGON-MACQUART SERIES (All 20 Books in One Edition). Ðмиль ЗолÑ
Читать онлайн книгу.
we have the pleasure of seeing his Excellency this evening?”
“I fear not,” answered Saccard with an air of importance that concealed a secret annoyance. “My brother is so busy…. He has sent us his secretary, M. de Saffré, to make his apologies to us.”
The young secretary, whom Mme. Michelin was decidedly monopolizing, raised his head on hearing his name mentioned, and cried at random, thinking that he had been spoken to:
“Yes, yes, there is to be a cabinet council this evening at nine o’clock at the office of the Keeper of the Seals.”
All this time, M. Toutin-Laroche, who had been interrupted, was continuing seriously, as though he were delivering a peroration amid the attentive silence of the Municipal Council:
“The results are superb. The city loan will be remembered as one of the finest financial operations of the period. Ah! messieurs….”
But at this point his voice was again drowned in the laughter that broke out suddenly at one end of the table. In the midst of this outburst of merriment could be heard Maxime’s voice, as he concluded an anecdote: “But wait, I have not finished. The fair equestrian was picked up by a road-labourer. They say she is having him brilliantly educated with a view to marrying him later on. No man but her husband, she says, shall boast of having seen a certain black mole just above her knee.” The laughter redoubled; Louise laughed unreservedly, louder than the men. And noiselessly amid this laughter, as though deaf, a footman at this moment thrust his pale serious face between each guest, offering in a low voice slices of wild duck.
Aristide was annoyed at the want of attention paid to M. Toutin-Laroche. He repeated, to show that he had been listening:
“The city loan….”
But M. Toutin-Laroche was not the man to lose the thread of an idea:
“Ah! messieurs,” he continued when the laughter had subsided, “yesterday was a great consolation to us whose administration is exposed to such base attacks. They accuse the council of leading the city to destruction, and you see, no sooner does the city issue a loan, than they all bring us their money, even those who complain.”
“You have performed wonders,” said Saccard. “Paris has become the capital of the world.”
“Yes, it is really astounding,” interposed M. Hupel de la Noue. “Can you imagine that I, old Parisian that I am, no longer know my Paris. I lost my way yesterday in going from the Hotel de Ville to the Luxembourg. It’s astounding, astounding!”
There was a pause. All the serious people were now listening.
“The transformation of Paris,” continued M. Toutin-Laroche, “will be the glory of the reign. The nation is ungrateful; it ought to kiss the Emperor’s feet. As I said this morning in the council, when they were talking of the great success of the loan: ‘Gentlemen, let those brawlers of the opposition say what they will; to plough up Paris is to make it productive.’“
Saccard smiled, and closed his eyes, as though the better to relish the subtlety of the epigram. He leant behind the back of Mme. d’Espanet, and said to M. Hupel de la Noue, loud enough to be heard:
“He is adorably witty.”
Meantime, while they were discussing the alterations being made in Paris, the Sieur Charrier had been stretching out his neck, as though to take part in the conversation. His partner Mignon was fully occupied with Mme. Sidonie, who was giving him plenty to do. Saccard had been watching the two contractors from the corner of his eye since the commencement of dinner.
“The administration,” he said, “has met with so much devotion. Everyone was eager to contribute to the great work. Without the wealthy companies that came to its assistance, the city would never have done so well nor so quickly.”
He turned round, and with a sort of fawning brutality:
“MM. Mignon and Charrier know something of that; they have had their share of the labour, and they will have their share of the glory.”
The bricklayers who had made their fortunes received this uncouth compliment with radiant faces. Mignon, to whom Mme. Sidonie was saying, in her mincing tones: “Ah, monsieur, you flatter me; no, pink would be too young for me….” left her in the middle of her sentence to reply to Saccard:
“You are too kind; we merely did our business.”
But Charrier was more polished. He drank off his glass of Pomard, and managed to deliver himself of a phrase:
“The alterations of Paris,” he said, “have given a living to the workman.”
“And we may add,” resumed M. Toutin-Laroche, “that they have given a magnificent impulse to industry and finance.”
“And do not forget the artistic side of the question: the new thoroughfares are majestic in their beauty,” added M. Hupel de la Noue, who prided himself on his taste.
“Yes, yes, it is a fine undertaking,” murmured M. de Mareuil, for the sake of saying something.
“As to the cost,” declared Haffner seriously, the deputy who never opened his mouth except on great occasions, “that will be for our children to bear, nothing could be fairer.”
And as, in speaking, he looked towards M. de Saffré, who appeared to have given a momentary offence to the pretty Mme. Michelin, the young secretary, to shew that he had been following the conversation, repeated:
“Nothing could be fairer indeed.”
Each member of the group of serious men at the middle of the table had had his say. M. Michelin, the Chief Commissioner, smiled and wagged his head: this was his ordinary method of taking part in a conversation: he had smiles of greeting, of response, of approval, of thanks, of leave-taking, quite a pretty collection of smiles which saved him almost any necessity for speech, an arrangement which he looked upon as doubtless more polite and more favourable to his advancement.
Yet one other personage had kept silence, the Baron Gouraud, who munched his food slowly like a drowsy ox. Up to that moment he had appeared absorbed in the contemplation of his plate. Renée, who paid him every attention, received nothing for it but little grunts of satisfaction. And consequently it was a surprise to see him lift his head and observe, as he wiped his greasy lips:
“As a landlord, whenever I have a flat done up and painted, I raise the rent.”
M. Haffner’s expression: “The cost will be for our children to bear” had had the effect of arousing the senator. All discreetly clapped their hands, and M. de Saffré exclaimed:
“Ah, charming, charming, I must send that to the papers tomorrow.”
“You are quite right, messieurs, these are good times we live in,” said Mignon, by way of summing up, in the midst of the smiles and admiration aroused by the baron’s epigram. “I know a few who have made a good thing out of them. You see, everything is fine so long as you make money by it.”
These last words seemed to freeze the serious men. The conversation dropped flat, and each appeared to avoid his neighbour’s eyes. The bricklayer’s aphorism struck home, deadly as the paving-stone of la Fontaine’s bear. Michelin, who happened to be beaming upon Saccard with a pleasant air, ceased smiling, very anxious lest he should seem for one instant to have applied the contractor’s words to the master of the house. The latter threw a glance to Mme. Sidonie, who tackled Mignon afresh, saying, “And so you like pink, monsieur…?” And Saccard paid an elaborate compliment to Mme. Espanet; his dark, sorry face almost touched her milky shoulders, as she threw herself back and tittered.
They were at the dessert. The lackeys moved round the table at a quicker pace. There was a pause while the cloth was being covered with the remainder of the fruit and sweets. At Maxime’s end of the table the laughter increased in brightness; Louise’s little shrill voice was heard saying: “I assure you, Sylvia wore blue satin as Dindonette;” and