His Excellency the Minister Part 21

This "Monsieur Eugene" had already pet.i.tioned for a prefecture, or a sub-prefecture, or--it mattered little--whatever place the minister might choose to give him.

His claims? None: he was an office-seeker.

The minister was already overwhelmed by this vulgar procession of pet.i.tioners and intermediaries, when an usher brought him a card bearing this name: _Lucien Granet_.

In the Chamber it was thought that Granet did not like Vaudrey too well, and Sulpice vaguely scented in him a candidate for his office. The more reason, then, that he should make himself agreeable.

"What does he want?" the minister thought.

This Granet was, moreover, a typical politician; by the side of the minister of to-day, he was the inevitable minister of to-morrow, the positive reformer, the man appointed to cleanse the Augean stables, whose coming, it was said, would immediately mark the end of all abuses, great and small.

"Ah! when Granet is minister!"

The artist without a commission consoled himself with the prospect of the Granet ministry. He would decorate the monuments when Granet became minister. The actress who looked with longing eyes toward the Comedie Francaise, and dreamed of playing in Moliere, had her hopes centered in Granet. Granet promised to every actress an engagement at the Rue de Richelieu. _I am waiting for the Granet ministry!_ was the consolatory reflection, interrupted by sighs, of the licentiates in law. Meanwhile those office-seekers danced attendance on Granet, and their smile was worth to the future Excellency all the sweets of office.

Granet had thus everywhere a host of clients, women and men, sighing for his success, working to bring about his ministry, intriguing in advance for his advent, and working together for his glory.

"Ah! if Granet were in power!"

"Such abuses would not exist under a Granet ministry!"

"All will be changed when Granet becomes minister!"

"That dear Granet! that good Granet! Long live Granet!"

Vaudrey was not ignorant of the fact that for some time past, Lucien Granet had been manoeuvring for his appointment to any office whatever, the most important obtainable. He was within an ace of becoming a member of the last Ministerial Coalition. He might have been Vaudrey's colleague instead of his rival. Sulpice was as glad to have him as an opponent in the Chamber as a colleague in the ministerial council. He was, however, not an adversary to be trifled with. Granet was a power in himself.

"Well!" said the minister to Granet, who entered smiling, and with a very polite greeting, "you come then to inspect your future office?

Already!--"

"I?" said Granet, who did his best to be agreeable, "G.o.d prevent me from thinking of this department. It is too well filled."

"That is very gallant, my dear Granet."

"Far from disputing your portfolio, I come, on the contrary, to give you some advice as to strengthening your already excellent position."

"Advice from you, my dear colleague, should be excellent. Let us hear it."

"My dear minister, it is about the appointment of an Under Secretary of State for the Interior. Well! I have come to urge the claims of my friend, our colleague Warcolier."

While speaking, Granet, who was seated near the bureau of the minister, with his hat on his knee, was watching Vaudrey through his eyegla.s.s; he saw that his lips twitched slightly as he hesitated before replying.

"But I am bound to Jacquier--of l'Oise," Vaudrey said abruptly.

Granet smiled. Certainly Jacquier would be a most excellent choice. He was a cool, solid and remarkable man. But he had little influence with the Chamber, frequented society rarely, was morose and exclusive, while Warcolier was a most amiable man, an excellent speaker and one who was well-known in the Chamber. He was a fine orator. He was highly esteemed by the Granet group.

"My personal friend, too, my dear minister. You would, I a.s.sure you, displease me if you did not support Warcolier this morning at the Ministerial Council, at which the nomination of under secretaries should take place. It is this morning, isn't it?"

"Certainly, in an hour's time."

Granet left the minister, repeating with considerable emphasis, which Vaudrey could not fail to remark, that the nomination of Warcolier would be favorably viewed by the majority of the deputies. A hundred times more so than that of Jacquier--of l'Oise.

"Jacquier is a bear. They don't like bears," said Granet, tapping his thumb lightly with his eyegla.s.s.

He left Vaudrey out of humor, and very much disgusted at finding that Warcolier had already exploited the field.

In truth, Vaudrey liked Warcolier as little as he did Granet. Warcolier took life easily. He was naturally of a contented disposition. He liked people who were easily pleased. An Imperialist under the Empire, he was now a Republican under the Republic. Epicurean in his tastes, he was agreeable, clever and fond of enjoyment, and he approved of everything that went the way he desired. He sniffed the breeze light-heartedly and allowed it to swell his sail and his self-love. He did not like ill-tempered people, people who frowned or were discontented or gloomy.

Having a good digestion, he could not understand the possibility of disordered stomachs. A free-liver, he could not realize that hungry people should ever think of better food. Everything was good; everything was right; everything was beautiful. Of an admirably tranquil disposition, he felt neither anger nor envy. Thinking himself superior to every one else, Warcolier never made comparisons, he did not even prefer himself: he worshipped himself. The world belonged to him, he trod the ground with a firm step, swinging his arms, his paunch smooth, his head erect and his shoulders thrown forward. He seemed to inhale, at every step, the odor of triumph. He was not the man to compromise with a defeated adversary.

Of Warcolier's literary efforts, people were familiar with his _History of Work and Workers_ that he had formerly dedicated to His Majesty Napoleon III. in these flattering terms: "To you, sire, who have subst.i.tuted for the n.o.bility of birth, that of work, and for the pride of ancestry, that of shedding blood for one's country."

Later, in 1875, Warcolier had re-issued his _History of Work_ and his dedication was anxiously awaited. It did not take him long to get over the difficulty. He dedicated his work to another sovereign: "To the People, who have subst.i.tuted the n.o.bility of work for that of birth, and that of blood shed for the country for that of blood shed by ancestors."

And that very name which was formerly read at the foot of professions of faith:--_Appeal to Honest People. The Revolution overwhelms us!_ is now found at the foot of proclamations wherein this devil of a Warcolier exclaims:--_Appeal to Good Citizens. Reaction now threatens us!_

This was the man whom Granet and his friends had worked so hard to thrust into the position of Undersecretary of State of the Interior.

Vaudrey reserved his opinion on this subject to be communicated to the President by and by.

The hour for the meeting of the Council drew near. Sulpice saw, through the white curtains of the window, his horses harnessed to his coupe and prancing in the courtyard, although it was but a short distance from Place Beauvau to the elysee. He slipped the reports of the Prefect of Police and the Director of the Press into his portfolio and was about to leave, when the usher brought him another card.

"It is useless, I cannot see any one else."

"But the gentleman said that if the minister saw his name, he would most a.s.suredly see him."

Vaudrey took the card that was extended to him on the tray:

"Jeliotte! He is right. Show him in."

He removed his hat and went straight toward the door, that was then opened to admit a pale-faced, lean man with long black whiskers that formed a sort of horsetail fringe to his face. Jeliotte was a former comrade in the law courts, an advocate in the Court of Appeal, and he entered, bowing ceremoniously to Sulpice, who with a pleased face and outstretched hands, went to welcome the old companion of his youth.

Jeliotte bowed with a certain affectation of respect, and smiled nervously.

"How happy I am to see you," Vaudrey said.

"You still address me in the old familiar way," Jeliotte answered, showing his slightly broken and yellow teeth.

"What an idea! Have I forfeited your good opinion, that I should abandon our familiar form of address?"

"Honors, then, have not changed you; well! so much the better," said Jeliotte. "You ask me how I am? Oh! always the same!--I work hard--I am out of your sight--but I applaud all your successes."

While Jeliotte was speaking of Vaudrey's successes, he sat on the edge of a chair, staring at his hat, and wagging his jaw as if he were cracking a nut between his frail teeth.

"I have been delighted at your getting into the cabinet. Delighted for your sake--"

"You ought also to be delighted on your own account, my good Jeliotte.

Whatever I may hereafter be able to do--"

Jeliotte cut the minister short and said in a tone as dry as tinder: