11 
 
 .?;' 
 
 
 
 
 )((»=VS i 
 
 3; , r^ 3:^
 
 mt ml P^ 1^ 
 
 ^WEUNIVERVa 
 
 s^lOSANCElfj> 
 
 % 
 
 ^smwm"^ %a3AiNn-3WV 
 
 AV\EUNIVER% 
 
 o 
 
 vvlOSANCElfXx 
 
 %a3AiNn-3y\^^ 
 
 ^lllBRARYQ^ 
 
 -^ILlBRARYi 
 
 ^OFCAIIFO;?^ 
 
 >&Aavaan-^^ 
 
 \oi\mi^ 
 
 ^OFCALIFOJ 
 
 
 ^^^IIIBRARYO^ 
 
 ^>^lllBRARYQc, 
 
 
 
 \MEUNIVER% 
 
 o 
 
 v;j;lOSANCEI 
 
 %a]AiNn] 
 
 ^OFCALIFO/?^ 
 
 .S;OfCAllF0/?^ 
 
 oe 
 
 ^ f ; I I c?> 
 
 ^OAavaaii#- ^OAavaaiH'?^ 
 
 ,^w^lNiVERS/A 
 
 I; -^- 
 
 OQ 
 
 vvlOSANCEl 
 o 
 
 3 
 ^/saaAiNH] 
 
 ^WE■^JNIVER% 
 
 >- -^ 
 
 <riijoNvsoi^ 
 
 ^lOSANCElfx^ 
 
 O u_ 
 
 %a3AiNn-3WV 
 
 ^^ILIBRARYO^ 
 
 
 ^^tUBRAR^ 
 
 ^tfOJITVD-: 
 
 ^\WEUNIVER% 
 
 ^lOSANCElfj-^ 
 o 
 
 ^OFCAllF0/?4>^ ^OFCAIIFC 
 
 j^.iuwuan.ivSS' 

 
 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 
 
 A REALISTIC NOVEU
 
 ZOLA'S POWERFUL EEALISTIG NOVELS. 
 
 A LOVE EPISODE. 
 
 FROM THE 52nd FRENCH EDITION. 
 
 Illustrated mith Eight Page Engravings. 
 
 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 
 
 FROM THE 23rd FRENCH EDITION. 
 
 Illustrated with Eight Page Engravings. 
 
 HIS EXCELLENCY EUGENE ROUGON. 
 
 FROM THE 22nd FRENCH EDITION. 
 
 Illustrated with Eight Page Engravings. 
 
 HOW JOLLY LIFE IS ! 
 
 FROM THE 44TH FRENCH EDITION. 
 
 Illustrated with Eight Page Engravings. 
 
 THE FORTUNE OF THE ROUGONS. 
 
 FROM THE 24TH FRENCH EDITION. 
 
 Illustrated with Eight Page Engravings. 
 
 ABBE MOURET'S TRANSGRESSION. 
 
 FROM THE 34th FRENCH EDITION. 
 
 Illustrated with Eight Page Engravings. 
 
 HIS MASTERPIECE? (L'ceuvre.) 
 
 With a Portrait of the Author, etched by Bocourt. 
 
 THE LADIES' PARADISE. Sequel to "Piping-Hot:' 
 
 FROM THE 50TH FRENCH EDITION. 
 
 Illustrated with Eight Tinted Page Engravings. 
 
 THERESE RAQUIN. 
 
 Illustrated with Sixteen Page Engravings, by Castelli. 
 
 THE RUSH FOR THE SPOIL. (La Curee.) 
 
 FROM THE 35th FRENCH EDITION. 
 
 Illustrated with Twelve Page Engravings. 
 
 PIPING HOT ! (PoT-BouiLLE.) 
 
 FROM THE 63rd FRENCH EDITION. 
 
 Illustrated with Sixteen Page Engravings, by French Artists. 
 
 GERMINAL; oe, MASTER AND MAN 
 
 FROM THE 47Tn FRENCH EDITION. 
 
 Illustrated with Sixteen Page Engravings, from designs by J. F&rat. 
 
 NANA. 
 
 FROM THE 127th FRENCH EDITION. 
 
 Illustrated with Twenty-Four Tinted Page Engravings, by French Artists. 
 
 THE "ASSOMMOIR." (The Prelude to "Nana.") 
 
 FROM THE 97th FRENCH EDITION. 
 
 Illustrated with Sixteen Tinted Page Engravings, by French Artists.
 
 ABIili FAUJAS'S INTRODUCTION TO MADAME EOUGON. 
 
 p. CG.
 
 THE DEATH OF ABBE FAUJAS. 
 
 p. 343.
 
 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 
 
 MARTHE AND ABb£ I'AUJAS AT SAINT-SATURNIn's. 
 
 By EMILE ZOLA. 
 
 p. 117.
 
 THE 
 
 CONaUEST OF PLASSANS; 
 
 OR, 
 
 THE PRIEST IN THE HOUSE. 
 
 A REALISTIC NOVEL. 
 
 By EMILE ZOLA. 
 
 TllANSLATKD WITHOUT ABRIDGMENT FROM THE 23RD FRENCH EDITION. 
 
 EUustrateb lottk ^ight JiaQe QEngnibings. 
 
 LONDON : 
 VizEiELLY ^ Co., 42 Caiherine Street, Strand. 
 
 1887.
 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 Given the struggle between ^religion and free thought 
 which has so long been waging in France, it is not sur- 
 prising that Parisian novelists in search of subjects 
 likely to interest their readers, should have largely 
 turned their attention to the different phases of priestly 
 and monastic life. Romances have been written both 
 a-^'ainst the Church and in its favour. Whilst a large 
 number of writers have followed the lines of M. Eugene 
 Sue's wonderful story, " The Wandering Jew," and the 
 Abb^ X's equally singular production, " Le Maudit," 
 both of which fi;:;uro in the Index of works condemned 
 as impious by the Sacred College, others on the contrary 
 have tried to raise the Roman Catholic priesthood in 
 public esteem ; and among the latter, one may mention 
 M. Ludovic Haldvy, whose simple but touching story, 
 "L'Abbu Constantin," met with such marked success, 
 and M. Ferdinand Fabrc, who has written fully a dozen 
 
 614 '102 
 
 LMARY
 
 vi PREFACE. 
 
 admirable novels upon the priest at the altar and in the 
 house. M. Fabre no doubt scouts various Ultramontane 
 doctrines, but taking him for all in all he must be ranked 
 as a defender of the Church ; and so highly is his literary- 
 talent appreciated, that it is generally admitted that he 
 will become a member of the French Academy as^soon as 
 a vacancy occurs. 
 
 As for M. !lfimile Zola, it v/as incumbent upon him to 
 include the clergy among his " types " of the French of 
 the Second Empire, and he has done so notably in two 
 stories of the present series : in " Abbe' Mouret's Trans- 
 gression," which places a young priest between the 
 impulsive passions of his twenty summers and his vow 
 of perpetual chastity; and in "The Conquest of Plassans," 
 the hero of which is at once a minister of religion and 'a 
 politician. It will be recollected, for it is a matter of 
 history, that the Third Napoleon upon his accession to 
 the French throne relied largely upon the influence of 
 the priesthood in establishing his power. He placed a 
 large French force at the disposal of Pope Pius IX., and 
 in exchange he expected the cordial support of the Holy 
 See. But the Church, theoretically at least, has always 
 pronounced in favour of the divine right^of kings ; and 
 thus it happened that in France the majorit}^ of the pre- 
 lac}^ and a large number of the subordhiate clergy were
 
 PEEFACE. . vii 
 
 in favour of the Count de CliamLord, the legitimate 
 descendant of St. Louis. Now it was the Emperor's 
 desire to win these members of the church, together with 
 a portion of the old nobility, over to the Imperial cause, 
 and no means were neglected to attain that object. It 
 is thus that in M. Zola's story, the Abbd Faujas, a needy 
 and ambitious priest, is despatched to Plassans, of which 
 he effects tlie conquest by dint of skilful intrigue. He 
 subdues rebellious dignitaries of the church, he hood- 
 winks the local aristocracy, and he muzzles the Repub- 
 licans. But his triumph, so far as he is personally 
 concerned, is of short duration, for instead of confining 
 himself to his mission, he embarks upon a most dangerous 
 course as regards a particular family of the town, and 
 the man whom he had wronged wreaks terrible venge- 
 ance upon him. We have recently in London heard a 
 good* deal about the priest in the house, and M. Zola's 
 story is certainly quite in keeping with the late disclo- 
 sures. Without going so far as to assert that Roman 
 Catholic priests as a rule resemble the Abbe Faujas, it is 
 certain that men of his stamp exist — men \vho, either 
 for motives of personal gain or out of a spirit of pure 
 fanaticism, blast the happiness and effect the ruin of a 
 household. Such are the achievements of M. Zola's hero, 
 and it reiuains with the reader to decide whether the
 
 tiii PREFACE. 
 
 picture is overdrawn or true to life. That M. Zola's 
 works are always conscientiously written there can be 
 no doubt ; he never allows himself to be carried away 
 by his imagination ; in all his novels he depends upon 
 personal observation and research, and he pens what he 
 honestly believes to be real or probable fact. For this 
 reason the picture of priestly life which is here pi-esented 
 i.'3 worthy of a careful study.
 
 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Desir^e clapped her hands. She was fourteen years old and 
 big and strong for her age, but she laughed like a little girl 
 of five. 
 
 " Mother ! mother ! " she cried, " look at my doll ! " 
 
 She showed her mother a piece of rag out of which she had 
 been trying for the last quarter of an hour to maiuifacture a 
 doll, rolling it up and constricting it at one end by the aid of 
 a piece of string. Marthe raised her eyes from the stockings 
 she was darning with as fine delicacy of work as though she 
 were embroidering and smiled at Desiree. 
 
 " Oh ! but that's only a baby," she said; "you must make a 
 grown-up doll and it must have a dress, you know, like a lady." 
 
 She gave the child some clippings of print wbicli she found 
 on her work-table, and tlien she devoted all lier attention again 
 to licr stockings. They were both sitting out at one end of 
 tlie narrow terrace, the gii'l on a stool at her mother's feet. 
 The setting sun of a still warm September evening poured 
 round them its calm peaceful rays ; and the garden in front 
 of them, which was already growing grey in the increasing 
 dusk, was wrapped in perfect silence. Outside, not a sound 
 could be heard in this quiet corner of the town. 
 
 They both worked on for ten long minutes without speaking. 
 Desiree was taking immense pains to make a dress for her doll 
 Evcrv few moments Mai'the raised her head and glanced at 
 the child with an expression in which sadness was mingled 
 with affection. Seeing that the girl's task seemed too much 
 for her, she at last said : 
 
 " (jive it to me. I will put in the sleeve's for you."
 
 10 THE CONQUEST OF FLASSANS. 
 
 As she took up the doll, two big lads of seventeen ana 
 eighteen came down the steps. They ran up to Marthe and 
 kissed her. 
 
 " Don't scold us, mother ! " cried Octave gaily. " T took 
 Serge to listen to the band. Tliere was such a crowd in the 
 Cours Sauvaire ! " 
 
 " I thought you had been kept at the college," his mother 
 said, "or I should have felt very uneasy." 
 
 Desir^e, now altogether indifferent to her doll, had already 
 thrown her arms round Sei'ge's neck as she exclaimed : 
 
 " One of my birds has flown away! The blue one, the one you 
 gave me ! " 
 
 She was on the point of crying. Her mother, who had 
 imagined that this trouble was forgotten, in vain tried to 
 divert her thoughts by showing her the doll. The girl clung 
 to her brother's arm and dragged him away with her, as she 
 continued 'to repeat : 
 . *' Come and let us go and look for it." 
 
 Serge followed her with kindly complaisance and tried t6 
 console her. She led him to a little conservatory, in front 
 of which there was a cage placed on a stand. Here the girl 
 told him how the bird had escaped just as she was opening 
 the door to prevent it fighting with a companion. 
 
 " Well, there's nothing very surprising in that ! " cried 
 Octave, who had seated himself on the balustrade of the 
 terrace. "She is always interfering with them, and tries to 
 find out how they are made and what it is they have in their 
 throats that makes them sing. The other day she was carry- 
 ing them about in her pockets the whole afternoon to keep 
 them warm." 
 
 " Octave ! " said Marthe, in a tone of reproach ; " don't tease 
 the poor child." 
 
 But Desiree had not heard him ; she was explaining to Serge 
 with much detail how the bird had flown away. 
 
 " It just slipped out, you see, like that, and then it flew over 
 3^onder and lighted on Monsieur Rastoil's big pear-tree. Then 
 it flew off" to the plum-tree at the bottom ; then it came back 
 again and went right over my head into the big trees belonging 
 to the sub-prefecture, and I've never seen it again; no, never 
 again." 
 
 Her eyes filled with tears. 
 
 " Perhaps it will come back again," Serge ventured to say.
 
 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 11 
 
 " Oh ! do you think so 1 I think I will pnt the others into 
 a box, and leave the door of the cage open all night." 
 
 Octave could not restrain his laughter, but Marthe called 
 OTit to Desires: 
 
 " Come and look here ! come and look here ! " 
 
 She gave her the doll. It was a magnificent doll now. It 
 had a stiff dress, a head made of a pad of calico, and arms of list 
 sewn on to the shoulders. D^siree's eyes lighted wp with 
 sudden joy. She sat down again upon the stool, and, forgetting 
 all about the bird, began to kiss the doll and dandle it in her 
 arms with all the childish pleasure of a little girl. 
 
 Serge had gone to lean upon the balustrade near his brother, 
 and Marthe had resumed her knitting. 
 
 "And so the band has been playing, has it 1 " she asked. 
 
 " It plays every Thursday," Octave replied. " You ought to 
 have come and heard it, mother. All the town was there ; the 
 Rastoil girls, Madame de Condamin, Monsieur Paloque, the 
 mayor's wife and daugliter— Why didn't you come too 1 " 
 
 Marthe did not raise her eyes, but just said softly as she 
 finished darning a hole : 
 
 " You know veiy well, my dears, that I don't care about go- 
 ing out. I am quite contented here ; and then it is necessary 
 that someone should stay with Desir^e." 
 
 Octave opened his lips to re[ily, but he glanced at his sister 
 and kept silent. He remained where he was, whistling softly 
 and raising his eyes to look at the trees of the sub-prefecture, 
 noisy with the twittering of the sparrows who were preparing 
 to go to rest for the night, and gazing at Monsieur Rastoil's 
 pear-ti*ees behind which the sun was setting. Serge had taken a 
 book out of his pocket and was reading it attentively. A soft, 
 tranquil silence that seemed to breathe with mute affection, 
 brooded over the teiTace as it lay in the mellow, yellow light 
 that was growing gradually fainter. Marthe continued busily 
 darning, ever and anon glancing round at her three children in 
 the peaceful quiet of the evening. 
 
 " Everyone seems to be late to-day," she said after a time 
 '■ It is nearly six o'clock, and your father hasn't come home yet. 
 I think he must have gone over to Los Tulettes." 
 
 "Oh! then, no wonder he's late ! " Octave exclaimed. "The 
 peasants at Les Tulettes are in no hurry to let him go when 
 once they have got hold of him. Has he gone there to buy 
 some wine ? "
 
 12 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 
 
 *' I don't know," Marthe replied, " He isn't fond, you know, 
 of talking about liis business." 
 
 Then there was another interval of silence. In the dining- 
 room, the window of which was opened widely on to the terrace, 
 old Rose had just begun to lay the table with much angry- 
 sounding clattering of crockery and plate. She seemed to be 
 in a very bad temper, and banged the chairs about while she 
 kept breaking out into snatches of grumbling and growling. 
 Then she went and stood at the street door and, craning out 
 her head, she reconiioitred the Place of the sub-prefecture. 
 After some minutes' waiting, she came up to the terrace-steps 
 and cried: 
 
 " Monsieur Mouret isn't coming home to dinner, then? " 
 
 "Yes, Rose, wait a little longer," Marthe replied qvxietly. 
 
 " Everything is getting burned to cinders ! There's no sense 
 in such ways. When master is going off on these rounds he 
 ought to give us notice ! Well, it's all the same to me ; but 
 your dinner will be quite uneatable." 
 
 "Ah ! do you really think so, Rose ?" asked a tranquil voice 
 just behind her. " We will eat it, notwithstanding." 
 
 It was Moviret who had just returned. Rose turned round 
 and looked her master in the face, and seemed on the point of 
 breaking ovit into some angry exclamation ; but at the sight of 
 his perfectly unruffled countenance, in which was twinkling an 
 expression of merry banter, she could not find a word to say, 
 and so she retired. Mouret made his way to the terrace, 
 where he paced abont without sitting down. He just tapped 
 Desir^e lightly on the cheek with the tips of his fingers, and the 
 girl greeted him with a responsive smile. Marthe raised her 
 eyes, and when she had glanced at her husband, she began to 
 fold up her work. 
 
 " Aren't you tired 1 " asked Octave, looking at his father's 
 boots which were white with dust. 
 
 " Yes, indeed, a little," Monret replied, without saying any- 
 thing more about the long journey which he had just made on 
 foot. 
 
 Then he caught sight of a spade and a rake in the middle of 
 the garden, which tlie children had forgotten to put away. 
 
 "Why are the tools not put away?" he cried. "I have 
 spoken about it a hundred times. If it came on to rain, they 
 would be completely rusted and spoilt." 
 
 He said no more on the subject, but stepped riown into the
 
 THE CONQUEST OF TLASSANS. 13 
 
 garden and picked up the sjDade and rake himself, and put 
 them caref ullj" away inside the little conservatory. As he came 
 up again on to the terrace, his eyes pryed into every corner of the 
 walks to see if there was any other departure from orderliness. 
 
 "Are you learning your lessons'?" he asked, as he passed 
 Serge, who was still poring over his book. 
 
 " No, father," the boy replied ; " this is a book that the 
 Abbe Bovirrettc has lent me. It is an account of the missions 
 in China." 
 
 Mouret stopped short in front of his wife. 
 
 "By the way," he said, " has anyone been V 
 
 " No, no one, my dear," replied Mar the with an appearance 
 of surprise. 
 
 He seemed on the point of saying something further, but 
 he appeared to change his mind, and he continued pacing up 
 and down in silence. 1'hen, going to the steps, he cried out : 
 
 " Well, Rose, what about this dinner of yours which is get- 
 ting burnt to cinders 1 " 
 
 " Oh, indeed ! there is nothing I'eady for you now ! " shouted 
 the angry voice of the cook from the other end of the passage. 
 " Everything is cold. You will have to wait, sir." 
 
 Mouret smiled in silence and winked his left eve, as he 
 glanced at his wife and children. He seemed to be very much 
 amused at Rose's anger. Then he occupied himself by ex- 
 amining his neighbour's fruit-trees. 
 
 " It is surprising what splendid pears Monsieur Rastoil has 
 got this year," he remarked. 
 
 Marthc, who had appeared a little uneasy for the last few 
 minutes, seemed as though she wanted to say something. At 
 last she made up her mind to speak, and said timidly : 
 
 " Were you expecting someone to-day, my dear 1 " 
 
 " Yes and no," he replied, beginning to walk up and down 
 the tei'race again. 
 
 " Perhaps you have let the second floor 1 " 
 
 " Yes, indeed, I have let it." 
 
 Then, as the unbroken silence was becoming a little embar- 
 rassing, he added, in his tranquil tones : 
 
 " This morning, before starting for Les Tulettes, I went up 
 to see the Abb^ Bourrette. He was very pressing, and so I 
 agreed. I know it won't please you ; but, if you will only 
 think the matter over for a little, you will sec that you are 
 wrong, my dear. The second floor was of no use to us, and it
 
 14 THE CONQUEST OF TLASSANS. 
 
 was only going to ruin. Tlie fruit that we store in the rooms 
 creates a dampness wliich causes the paper to fall fi-om the 
 walls. By the way, now that I think of it, don't forget to 
 remove the fruit the first thing to-morrow. Our tenant may 
 arrive at any moment." 
 
 " We were so free and comfortable, all alone in our own 
 bouse," Marthe ventured to say, in low tones. 
 
 " Oh, well ! " replied Mouret, " we sball not find a priest 
 very much in our wa}'. He will keep to himself, and we sliall 
 keep to ourselves. These black-robed gentlemen hide them- 
 selves when they want to swallow even a glass of water. You 
 know that I am not very partial to them myself. A set of 
 pretenders, for the most part ! And yet what chiefly decided 
 me to let the floor was that I had happened to meet with a 
 priest for a tenant. One is quite sure of one's money with 
 them, and they are so quiet that one can't even hear them put- 
 ting the key into the lock." 
 
 Marthe still continued to appear distressed. She looked 
 round her at the happy home basking in the sun's farewell 
 beams, at the garden that was now growing greyer in the even- 
 ing dusk, and at her children. And she thought of all the 
 happiness which this little spot held for her. 
 
 "And do you know anything about this priest?" she asked. 
 
 " No ; but tiie Abbe Boiirrette has taken the floor in his own 
 name, and that is quite sufficient. The Abbe Bourrette is an 
 honourable man. I know that our tenant is called Faujas, the 
 Abbe Faujas, and that he comes from the diocese of Besangon. 
 He didn't get on very well with his vicar, and so he has been 
 appointed curate here at St. Saturnin's. Perhaps he knows 
 our bishop, Monseigneur Rousselot. But all this is no business 
 of ours, you know ; and it is to the Abbe Bourrette that I am 
 trusting in the whole matter." 
 
 Marthe, however, did not seem to share her husband's con- 
 fidence, and she continued to stand out against him, a thing 
 which very seldom happened. 
 
 " You are right," she said, after a moment's silence, " the 
 Abbe is a worthy man. But I recollect that when he came to 
 look at the rooms, he told me that he did not know the name 
 of the person on whose behalf he was commissioned to hire 
 them. It was one of those commissions which are undertaken 
 by priests in one town for those in another. I really think that 
 you ought to write to Besangon and make some inquiries as to
 
 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 15 
 
 what sort of a person it is that you are thinking of introducing 
 into your house." 
 
 Mouret tried to suppress his feeUng of irritation, and he 
 smiled complacently. 
 
 " Well, it isn't the devil, anyhow. Why, you're trembling 
 all over. I didn't think you were so superstitious. You surely 
 don't believe that priests bring ill luck, as folks say. Neither, 
 indeed, do they bring good luck. They are just like other men. 
 Well ! well ! you'll see, when we get this Abbe here, if I'm afraid 
 of his cassock ! " 
 
 "No, I'm not superstitious; you know that quite well," 
 Marthe replied. " 1 only feel unhappy about it, that's all." 
 
 He came and stood in front of her, and interrupted her with 
 a sharp motion of his hand. 
 
 " There ! there ! that will do," he said. " 1 have let them ; 
 don't let us say anything more about the matter." 
 
 Then, in the bantering tones of a city man who thinks he 
 has done a good stroke of business, he added : 
 
 " At any rate one thing is certain, and that is that I am to 
 get a hundred and fifty francs rent ; and we shall have those 
 additional hundred and fifty francs to spend over the house 
 every year." 
 
 Marthe bent her head down, and made no further protesta- 
 tions except by vaguely rocking her hands, while she closed her 
 eyes as though to prevent the escape of the tears which were 
 already swelling beneath her eyelids. She cast a furtive 
 glance at her children, who had not appeared to hear anything 
 of the discussion she was having with their fathei", accustomed 
 as they were to scenes of this sort in which Mouret's bantei'ing 
 nature delighted to indulge. 
 
 " You can come in now, if j'ou would like something to eat," 
 said Rose with her crabby voice, as she came out on to the 
 steps. 
 
 " Ah, that's right ! Come along, children, to your soup ! " 
 Mouret cried gaily, without appeai-ing to retain any trace of 
 displeasui'c. 
 
 All the family rose. Then Desiree's grief seemed to I'e- 
 awakcn at the sight of everyone stirring. She threw her arms 
 around her father's neck and stammered out : 
 
 " Oh, papa, one of my birds has flown away ! " 
 
 *' One of your birds, my dear 1 Well, we'll catch it again." 
 
 Then he began to caress her and fondle her, but she insisted
 
 16 THE CONQUEST OF TLASSANS. 
 
 that he, too, should go and look at the cage. When he brought 
 her back again, Marthc and her two sons were already in the 
 dining-room. The rays of the setting sun streaming in through 
 the window brightly lighted up the porcelain plates, the 
 children's mugs and the white cloth. The room was cool and 
 peaceful with its green back-ground of garden. 
 
 Just as Marthe, upon whom the tranquillity of the scene had 
 had a soothing effect-, was smdiugly i-emoving the cover from 
 the soup, a noise was heard in the passage. 
 
 Rose rushed into the room with a scared look and stam- 
 mered out : 
 
 " His reverence the Abbe Faujas has come !"
 
 17 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 AN expression of annoyance passed across Mouret's face. He 
 had not expected his tenant till the following morning at the 
 earliest. He was just rising hastily from his seat when the 
 Al)b6 Faujas himself appeared at the door. He was a tall big 
 man, with a square face and large features and cadaverous com- 
 plexion. Behind him, in the shadow, there was an elderly 
 lady, who bore an astonishing resemblance to him, only she was 
 smaller and wore a less refined expression. When they saw the 
 table laid for a meal, they both seemed to hesitate and stepped 
 back discreetly, though without going away again. The tall 
 black figure of the priest contrasted mournfully with the cheer- 
 fuln "-" of the white-washed walls. 
 
 " \ve must ask your pardon for disturbing you," he said to 
 Mouret. " We have just left the Abbe Bourrette's; he no doubt 
 gave you notice of our coming 1 " 
 
 " Not at all ! " Moui-et exclaimed. " The Abbe never be- 
 haves like other people. He always seems as though he had just 
 come down from pai'adise. It was only this morning, sir, that 
 he told me you would not be here for another couple of 
 days. Well, we must put you in possession of your rooms 
 all the same." 
 
 The Abbe Faujas apologized. He spoke with a deep voice of 
 great softness. He was extremely distressed, he said, to have 
 arrived at such a moment. AVhen he had expressed his regret 
 ' without any superfluous phrases in a very few well-chosen words, 
 he turned round to pay the porter who had brought his trunk. 
 His large well-shaped hands drew from the folds of liis cassock 
 a purse of which nothing but its rings of steel could be seen. 
 Keeping his head bent down, he carefully felt about in it, for a 
 moment or two, with his fingers. Then, without anyone 
 having seen the piece of money which he had received, the 
 porter went av.ay, and the priest resumed in his refined 
 tones : 
 
 B
 
 18 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 
 
 " I beg you, sir, to S'.t down again. Your servant will show 
 us the rooms, and will help me to carry this." 
 
 As he spoke, he stooped down to grasp one of the handles of 
 the trunk. It was a small wood trunk, bound at the edges with 
 iron Ixxnds, and one of its sides seemed to have been repaired 
 with a cross-piece of deal. Mouret looked surprised^ and his 
 eyes wandered off in search of other luggage, but he could see 
 nothing else except a big basket, which the elderly lady carried 
 in her hands, holding it in front of her, and seeming obstin- 
 ately determined not to put it down. Underneath the lid, 
 which was a little raised, there peeped out from amongst 
 bundles of linen the end of a comb wrapped up in paper and 
 the neck of a clumsily corked bottle, 
 
 " Oh ! don't trouble yourself with that," said Mouret, just 
 touching the trunk with his foot ; " it can't be very heavy, and 
 Rose will be quite able to carry it up by herself." 
 
 He was quite unconscious of the contempt which his words 
 seemed to breathe. The elderly lady looked at him keenly with 
 her black eyes, and then her glance again fell upon the dining- 
 room and the table, which she had been examining ever since 
 her arrival. She kept her lips tightly compressed, while her 
 eyes strayed from one object to another. She had not uttered 
 a single word. The Abbe Faujas consented to leave his trunk. 
 In the yellow rays of the sun-light which streamed in from the 
 garden, his threadbare cassock looked quite red ; its edges 
 were bordered with a fringe of patches ; and, though it was 
 very neat and tidy, it seemed so sadly thin and worn that 
 Marthe, who had hitherto remained seated in a sort of uneasy 
 reserve, now rose in lier turn from her seat. The Abbe, who 
 had merely cast a rapid glance at her, and then quickly turned 
 his eyes elsewhere, saw her leave her chair although he did not 
 appear to be watching her. 
 
 " I beg of you," he repeated, " not to disturb yourselves. 
 We should be extremely distressed to interfere with your 
 dinner." 
 
 "Very well," said Mouret, who was hungry, "Rose shall 
 show you up. Tell her to get you anything you want, and 
 make yourselves at home." 
 
 The Abbe Faujas bowed and was making his way to the 
 staircase, when Marthe stepped up to her husband and 
 whispered : 
 
 " But, my dear, you have forgotten — "
 
 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 19 
 
 " What 1 what 1 " he asked, seeing her hesitate, 
 
 " There is the frait, you know." 
 
 " Oh ! bother it all, so there is ! " he exclaimed with an ex- 
 pression of annoyance. 
 
 And, as the Abbe Faujas returned and glanced at him 
 questioningly, he said to him : 
 
 " I am extremely vexed, sir. Father Bourrette is a very 
 worthy man, but it is a little unfortunate that you commis- 
 sioned him to look after your business. He hasn't got the 
 least bit of a head. If we had only known of your coming, we 
 would have had everything ready ; but, as it is, we shall have 
 to clear the whole place out for you. We have been using the 
 rooms, you see, and we have stowed away on the floors upstairs 
 all our crop of fruit, figs, apples and raisins." 
 
 The priest listened to him with a surprise which all his 
 politeness did not enable him to entirely hide. 
 
 " But it won't take us long," Mouret continued. " If you 
 don't mind waiting for ten minutes, Rose will get the rooms 
 cleared for you." 
 
 A troubled expression passed over the priest's cadaverous 
 face. 
 
 "The rooms are furnished, are they not?" he asked. 
 
 " Not at all ; there isn't a bit of furniture in them. We 
 have never occupied them." 
 
 Then the Abbe lost his self-control, and his grey eyes flashed 
 brigiitly as he exclaimed with suppressed indignation : 
 
 " But I gave distinct instructions in my letter that furnished 
 rooms were to be taken. I could scarcely bring my furniture 
 along with me in my trunk." 
 
 " Well, that just fits in with what I have been saying ! " 
 cried Mouret, in louder tones " The way that Bourrette goes 
 on is quite incredible. He certainly saw the apples when he 
 came to look at the rooms, sir, for he took one of them up and 
 remarked tliat he had rarely seen such a fine one. He said 
 that everything seemed quite suitable and that the rooms were 
 all that was necessary, and he took them." 
 
 The Abb^ Faujas was no longer listening to Mouret, and 
 liis cheeks were flushed with anger. He turned round and said 
 in a disturbed and broken voice : 
 
 " Do you hear, mother 1 There is no furniture." 
 
 The old lady, with her thin black shawl drawn tightly 
 round her, had just been inspecting the ground-floor with little
 
 20 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 
 
 furtive steps, but without ever putting down her basket. She 
 had gone up to the door of the kitchen and had scrrtinized the 
 four walls, and then, standing on the steps that overlooked the 
 terrace, she had taken in all the garden with a long, searching- 
 glance. But it was tlie dining-room that seemed to especially 
 interest her, and she was now standing again in front of the 
 table laid for dinner, and was watching the steam of the soup 
 rise up, when her son repeated : 
 
 "Do you hear, mother'? We shall have to go to the hotel." 
 
 She raised her head without making any reply ; but the ex- 
 pression of her whole face seemed to speak a determination not 
 to leave this house, with Avhose every corner she had already 
 made herself acquainted. She shi'ugged her shoulders almost 
 imperceptibly, and her wandering eyes strayed from the kitchen 
 to tile garden and then from the garden to the dining-room. 
 
 Mouret, however, was beginning to grow impatient. As he 
 saw that neither the mother nor her son seemed to have made 
 up their minds to leave the place, he said : 
 
 "We have, unfortunately, no beds; but there is, in the 
 loft, a folding-bed, which perhaps, at a pinch, madame might 
 make do until to-morrow. But I really don't know how his 
 reverence is to manage to sleep." 
 
 Then at last Madame Faujas opened her lips. She spoke in 
 short and somewhat hoarse tones. 
 
 " My son will take the folding-bed. A mattress on the floor, 
 in a corner, will be quite sufficient for me." 
 
 The Abbe signified his approval of this arrangement by nod- 
 ding his head. Mouret was going to protest and try to think 
 of some other way, but, seeing the satisfied appearance of his 
 new tenants, he kept silence and merely exchanged a glance of 
 astonishment with his wife. 
 
 "To-morrow, it will be light," he said, with his touch of 
 middle-class banter, " and you will be able to furnish as you like. 
 Kose will come up and clear away the fruit and make the beds. 
 Will you wait for a few moments on the terrace ] Come, 
 children, bring a couple of chairs oiit." 
 
 Since the arrival of the priest and his mother, the young 
 people had remained quietly seated at the table and had 
 scrutinized them curiously. The Abbe had not appeared to 
 notice them, but Madame Faujas had stopped for a moment he- 
 foi'e each of them and stared them keenly in the face as though 
 she were trying to look into their young heads. As they heard
 
 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 21 
 
 their father's words, they all three hastened to rise and take 
 out the chairs. 
 
 The old lady did not sit down ; and when Mouret, losing 
 sight of her, turned round to find out what had become of her, 
 he saw her standing before one of the half-opened windows of 
 the drawing-room. She craned out her neck and completed 
 her inspection with all the calm deliberation of a person exam- 
 ining a property for sale. Just as Rose took up the little trunk 
 she returned into the passage, and said quietly : 
 
 " I will come up and help you." 
 
 Then she went upstairs after the servant. The pi'iest did 
 not even turn his head ; he was smiling at the three yoiuig 
 people who were still standing in front of him. In spite of tlie 
 hardness of his brow and the stern lines about his mouth, his 
 face was capable of an expression of great gentleness, when he 
 chose to assume it. 
 
 "Is this the whole of your family, madame?" he asked of 
 Marthe, who had just come up to him. 
 
 "Yes, sir," she replied, feeling a little confused beneath the 
 clear gaze which he bent upon her. 
 
 Looking again at her children, he continued : 
 
 " You've got two big lads there, who will soon be men — Have 
 you finished your studies yet, my boy 1 " 
 
 It was Serge to whom he addressed this question. Mouret 
 interrupted the lad as he was going to reply. 
 
 " Yes, he has finished," said tlie father ; " though he is the 
 younger of the two. When I say that he has finished, I mean 
 that he has taken his degree, for he is staying on at college for 
 au(jther year to go through a course of philosophy. He is the 
 clever one of the family. His brother, the eldest, that great 
 booby there, isn't up to much. He has been already plucked 
 twice for his degree, but he still goes on idling his time away 
 and is always larking about." 
 
 Octave listened to his father's reproaches with a smile, while 
 Serge- bent his head beneath his pi'aises. Faujas seemed to be 
 studying them for a moment in silence, and then, going up to 
 Desiree and putting on his expression of gentle tenderness, he 
 said to her : 
 
 "Will you allow me, mademoiselle, to be your friend?" 
 
 She made no reply but went, half afraid, to hide her face 
 against her mother's shoulder. The latter, instead of making 
 her uncover her face again, pressed her more closely to her, 
 clasping hei' arm round her waist.
 
 22 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 
 
 "Excuse lier," she said with a touch of sadnosx, " sjie has 
 not a very strong head and she has remained quite childish. 
 She is weak-minded, and we do not trouble her by attempting 
 to teach her anything. She is fourteen years old now, and she 
 has learned nothing except a love for animals." 
 
 Desiree's confidence returned to her inider her mother's 
 caresses, and she lifted up her head and smiled. Then she 
 said boldly : 
 
 " I should like you very much to be my friend ; but you 
 must promise me that you will never hurt the flies. Will 
 you?" 
 
 And then, as every one about her began to smile, she added 
 gravely : 
 
 " Octave crushes them, the poor flies. It is very wicked of 
 him." 
 
 The Abbe Faujas sat down. He seemed very much tired. 
 He gave himself up for a moment or two to the cool quietness 
 of the terrace, and cast lingering glances over the garden and 
 the neighbouring trees. The perfect calmness and tranquillity 
 of this quiet corner of the little town affected him with a sort 
 of surprise. 
 
 " It is very pleasant here," he murmured. 
 
 Then he relapsed into silence, and seemed quite absorbed 
 and lost in a reverie. He started slightly as Mouret said to 
 him with a laugh : 
 
 " If you will allow us, sir, we will now go back to our 
 dinner." 
 
 And then, catching a glance from his wife, his landlord 
 added : 
 
 " You must come and sit down with us and have a plate of 
 soup. It will save you the trouble of having to go to the hotel 
 to dine. Don't make any difficulty, I beg." 
 
 " I am extremely obliged to you, but we really don't require 
 anything," the Abb6 replied in tones of excessive politeness, 
 which allowed of no repetition of the invitation. 
 
 Then the Mourets returned to the dining-room and seated 
 themselves round the table. Marthe served the soup and there 
 was soon a cheerful clatter of spoons. The young people 
 chattered merrily, and Desiree broke out into a peal of ringing 
 laughter as she listened to a story her father, who was now in 
 high glee at having at last got to his dinner, was telling. In 
 the meantime, the Abbe Faujas, whom they had quite forgotten
 
 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 23 
 
 remained sitting perfectly motionless upon the terrace, facing 
 the setting sun. He did not even turn his head, and seemed 
 to hear nothing of what was going on behind him. Just as 
 the sun was disappearing he took oft his hat, overcome by the 
 heat. Marthe, who was sitting with her face to the windoiv, 
 could see his great bare head with its short hair that was 
 already silvering about the temples. A last red ray was light- 
 ing up his stern soldier-like head, on which the tonsure lay like 
 a cicatrized wound from the blow of a club ; then the ray 
 faded away and the priest, now wrapped in shadow, was nothing 
 more than a black outline against the ashy grey of the 
 gloaming. 
 
 Not wishing to summon Rose, Marthe herself w^ent to get a 
 lamp and brought in the first dish. As she was returning from 
 the kitchen, she met, at the foot of the staircase, a woman 
 whom she did not at first recognise. It was Madame Faujas. 
 She had put on a cotton cap and looked like a servant in her 
 common print dress, with a yellow handkerchief crossed over 
 her breast and knotted behind her waist. Her wrists were 
 bared and she was still quite out of breath with the work she 
 had been doing, and her heavy laced boots clattered on the 
 flooring of the passage. 
 
 "Ah! you've got all put right now, have you, madamel" 
 Marthe asked with a smile. 
 
 " Oh yes ! it was a mere trifle and was done directly," 
 Madame Faujas replied. 
 
 She went down the steps that led to the terrace, and in 
 gentler tones she said : 
 
 " Ovide, my child, will you come upstairs now ] Everything 
 is quite ready." 
 
 She was obliged to go and lay her hand upon her son's 
 shoulder to awaken him from his reverie. The air was growing 
 sharp, and the Abbe shivered as he got up and followed his 
 mother in silence. As he passed before the door of the dining- 
 room that was all bright with the cheerful glow of the lamp 
 and merry with the chatter of the young folks, he put his head 
 inside and said in his flexible tones : 
 
 " Let rnc thank you again and bog you to excuse ns for 
 having so disturbed you. We arc very sorry — " 
 
 "No ! no ! " cried Mouret, " it is we who are sorry and dis- 
 tressed at not being able to offer you better accommodation for 
 the night."
 
 24 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 
 
 The priest bowed and Maithc again met that clear gaze of 
 hisj that eagle glance which had so affected hei' before. In the 
 depths of liis eyes, which were generally of a melancholy grey, 
 passing flames seemed to gleam, like lamps carried behind the 
 windows of some slumbering house. 
 
 " His eyes don't seem to be in any danger of growing dim 
 yet," Mouret said, jokingly, when the mother and son had 
 retired. 
 
 " I don't think they seem very well off," Marthe remarked. 
 
 " Well, at any rate, he isn't carrying Peru about with him in 
 that box of his," Mouret exclaimed. " And it's so precious 
 heavy, too ! Why, I could have raised it up with the tip of 
 mv little finger ! " 
 
 He was interrupted in his flow of chatter by Rose, who had 
 just come running down the stairs to relate the extraordinary 
 things she had witnessed. 
 
 " Well, she is a wonderful creature, indeed ! " she cried, post- 
 ing herself in front of the table at which the family were eating. 
 " She's sixty-five at least, but she doesn't show it at all, and 
 she bustles about, and works like a horse ! " 
 
 " Did she help you to remove the fruit % " Mouret asked, 
 with some curiosity. 
 
 " Yes, indeed, she did, sir ! She carried it away in her apron, 
 filling it with loads heavy enough to burst it. I kept saying 
 to myself, ' It will certainly go this time,' but it didu't. It is 
 made of good strong material, the same kind of material as I 
 wear myself. We made at least ten journeys backwards and 
 forwards, and my arms felt as though they would fall off, but 
 she only grumbled, and complained that we were getting on 
 very slowly. I really believe, begging your pardons for mention- 
 ing it, that I heard her swear." 
 
 Mouret appeared to be greatly amused. 
 
 " And the beds?" he asked. 
 
 "Tlie beds, she made them too. It was quite a sight to sec 
 her turn the mattress over. It seemed^to weigh nothing, I can 
 tell you ; she just took hold of it by one end and tossed it up 
 into the air as though it had been a feather. And j^et she is 
 very careful and particular with it all. She tucked in the 
 folding-bed as carefully as though she were preparing a baby's 
 cradle. She couldn't have laid the sheets wntli greater de- 
 votion if the Infant Jesus Himself had been going to sleep 
 there. She has put three out of the four blankets upon the
 
 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 2:) 
 
 folding-bed. And it is just the same with the pillows ; she has 
 kept none for herself, but has given both to her son." 
 
 " She is going to sleep en the iloor, then ? " 
 
 "In a corner, just like a dog! She has thrown down a 
 mattress on the floor of the other room, and says she will sleep 
 there more soundly than if she were in paradise. I couldn't 
 persuade her to do anything to make herself more comfortable. 
 She says that she is never cold, and that her head is much too 
 hard to make her at all afraid of lying on the floor. I have 
 taken them some sugar and some water, as madame told me. 
 Oh ! they i-eally ai-e the strangest people ! " 
 
 Rose brought in the remainder of the dinner. That evening 
 tlie Mourets lingered over their meal. They discussed the new 
 tenants at great length. In their life, which went on with all 
 the even regularity of clock-work, the arrival of these two 
 strangers was a very exciting event. They talked about it as 
 they would have done of some catastrophe in the neighbour- 
 hood, with all that minuteness of detail which helps to pass 
 away the long nights in the country. Mouret was especially 
 fond of indulging in the chattering gossip of a little provincial 
 town. During dessert, as he leaned his elbows on the table in 
 the cool dining-room, he repeated for the tenth time with the 
 self-satisfied air of a well-to-do happy man : 
 
 " It certainly isn't a very handsome present that Be:-an9on 
 has made to Plassans ! Did you notice the back of his cassock 
 as he turned round ? I shall be very much surprised if he is 
 much run after by the pious folks here. He is too seedy and 
 threadbare ; and the pious folks like well-looking priests." 
 
 " He has a very sweet voice," said Marthe, indulgently. 
 
 " Not when he is angry, at any rate," Mouret replied. 
 " Didn't you hear him when he burst out on finding that the 
 rooms were not furnished 1, He is a hard, stern man, and not 
 the sort, I should think, to go lounging in confessional boxes. 
 I shall be very curious to see how he sets about his furnishing 
 to-morrow. But as long as he pays me, I don't much mind 
 anything else. If he doesn't, I shall apply to the Abbe Bour- 
 rette. It was with him that I made tlie bargain." 
 
 It was not a devout family. The children themselves made 
 fun of the Abbe and his mother. Octave burlcs(iued the old 
 lady's way of craning out her neck to sec to the end of the 
 rooms, a performance which made Desiree laugh. 
 
 Serge, wlio was of a more serious turn of mind, stood up for
 
 26 THE CONQUEST OF TLASSANS, 
 
 " these poor people." As a rule, precisely at ten o'clock, if he 
 was not playing at piquet, Mouret took up his candlestick and 
 went off to bed, but this evening eleven o'clock had struck, and 
 he was not yet feeling drowsy. Desiree had fallen asleep, with 
 her head lying on Marthe's knees. The two lads had gone up 
 to their room ; and Mouret, left alone with his wife, was still 
 gossiping on. 
 
 "How old do you suppose he is?" he asked suddenly. 
 
 " Who '? " said Marthe, who was now beginning to feel very 
 sleepy. 
 
 " Wlio 1 Why, tlie Abbe, of course ! Between forty and 
 forty-five, eh \ He's a fine strapping fellow. It's a pity for him 
 to be wearing a cassock ! He would have made a splendid 
 carbineer." 
 
 Then, after an interval of silence, he continued in a loud 
 voice the reflections which w^ere quite exercising his mind : 
 
 " They arrived by the quarter to seven train. They would 
 only have had just time to call on the Abbe Bourrctte before 
 coming on here. I dare wager that they haven't dined. That 
 is quite clear. We should certainly have seen them if they had 
 gone oi;t to the hotel. Ah, now ! I should very much like to 
 know where they can have had anything to eat." 
 
 Rose had been lingering about in the dining-room for the 
 last few moments, waiting till her master and mistress should 
 go to bed that she might be at liberty to fasten the doors and 
 windows. 
 
 " I know where they had something to eat," she said. And 
 as Mouret turned himself briskly towards her, she added : 
 
 " Yes, I had gone upstairs again to see if there was anything 
 they wanted. As I heard no sound, I didn't venture to knock 
 at the door, and I looked through the key-hole." 
 
 " But that was very improper of you, very improper," Marthe 
 interrupted, severely. " You know very well, Rose, that I don't 
 approve of anything of that kind." 
 
 " Leave her alone and let her go on ! " cried Mouret, who, 
 under other circumstances, would have been very angry with 
 the inquisitive woman. " You looked through the key-hole, 
 then ? " 
 
 " Yes, sir ; I thought it was the best plan ? " 
 
 " Clearly so. What were they doing 1 " 
 
 " Well, sir, they were eating. I saw them sitting on the 
 corner of the folding-bed and eating. The old lady had spread
 
 ABBE FAUJAS'S FIRST MEAL AT PLASSAN8. 
 
 p. 26.
 
 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 27 
 
 out a napldn. Every time that they helped themselves to the 
 wine, they corked the bottle and laid it down against the 
 pillow." 
 
 " But what were they eating ? " 
 
 " I couldn't quite tell, sir. It seemed to me like the remains 
 of a pie wrapped up in a newspaper. They had some apples as 
 well — little apples that looked good for nothing." 
 
 " They were talking, I suppose 1 Did you hear what they 
 said ] " 
 
 " No, sir ; they were not talking. I stayed for a good 
 quarter of an hour watching them, but they never said any- 
 thing. They were much too busy eating ! " 
 
 ]\Iarthe got up and woke Desiree, and made as though she 
 were going off to bed. Her husband's curiosity vexed her. 
 He, too, at last made up his mind to go upstairs, while old 
 Rose, who was a pious creature, went on in lower tones : 
 
 " The poor, dear man must have been frightfully hungry. 
 His mother handed him the biggest pieces and watched him 
 swallow them with delight. And now, he will sleep in some 
 nice white sheets ; unless, indeed, the smell of the fruit keeps 
 him awake. It isn't a pleasant smell to have in one's bedroom, 
 that sour odour of apples and pears. And there isn't a bit of 
 furniture in the whole room, nothing but the bed in the corner! 
 If I were he, I should feel quite frightened, and I should keep 
 the light burning all night." 
 
 Mouret had taken up his candlestick. He stood for a 
 moment before Rose, and summed up the events of the evening 
 in these words of a middle-class citizen who has met with some- 
 thing he has not been accustomed to. 
 
 "It is extraordinary ! " 
 
 Then he joined his wife at the foot of the staircase. She had 
 got into bed and had fallen asleep, while he was still continuing 
 to listen to the slight sounds that proceeded from the upper floor. 
 The Abbe's room was just over his own. He heard the window 
 being gently opened, and this excited his curiosity extremely. He 
 raised his head from his pillow, and struggled strenuously against 
 liis increasing drowsiness, feeling very anxious to find out how 
 long the Abbe would remain at the window. But sleep was 
 too strong for him, and Mouret was snoring noisily before he 
 had been able to catch again the grating sound of the window- 
 fastening. 
 
 Up above the Abbe Faujas was gazing, bare-headed, out of
 
 28 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 
 
 his window into the black night. He lingered there for a long 
 time, glad to find hinaself at last alone, and absorbed in those 
 thoughts which gave his brow such au expression of sternness. 
 Underneath him, he was conscious of the tranquil slumber of 
 the family whose home he had been sharing for the last few 
 hours ; the calm breath of the children, the honest breathing 
 of Marthe, and the heavy, regular respiration of Mouret. There 
 was a touch of scorn in the way in which he stretched out his 
 muscular neck, as he raised his head to gaze out upon the 
 town that lay slumbering in the distance. The tall trees in 
 the garden of the Sub-Prefecture formed a mass of gloomy 
 darkness, and Monsieur Rastoil's pear-trees shot out their 
 scraggy, twisted branches, while, further away, there was 
 nothing but a sea of black shadow, a perfect blank nothing- 
 ness, from which not a sound proceeded. The town lay as 
 tranquilly asleep as an infant in its cradle. 
 
 The Abbe Faujas stretched out his arms with an air of ironic 
 defiance, as though he would have liked to circle them round 
 Plassans, and squeeze the life out of it by crushing it against 
 his brawny chest, while he murmured to himself : 
 
 " Ah ! the imbeciles who laughed at me this evening, a,s 
 they saw me going through their streets !"
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 MouEET speut the whole of the next morning in playing the 
 spy over his new tenant. This espionage would enable him 
 to fill up the idle hoiu's which he had hitherto spent potter- 
 ing about the house, in putting back into their proper places 
 any articles which he happened to find lying about, and 
 picking quarrels with his wife and chiklren. Henceforth he 
 would have an occupation, an amusement which would relieve 
 the monotony of his everj'day life. As he had often said, he was 
 not partial to priests, and the first one who had entered into his 
 existence excited in him an extraordinary amount of interest. 
 This priest brought with him. a flavour of mystery and secrecy 
 that was almost disquieting. Although Mouret was a stz'ong- 
 minded man and professed himself to be a follower of Voltaire, in 
 the Abbe's presence he felt a touch of astonishment and middle- 
 class uneasiness mingled with a strong feeling of curiosity. 
 
 Not a sound came from the second floor. Mouret stood on 
 the staircase and listened eagerly, and he even ventured to go 
 to the loft. As he hushed his steps when passing along the 
 passage, a pattering of slippers behind the door filled him with 
 great excitement. Not succeeding in making any new dis- 
 covery, he went down into the garden and strolled into the 
 arbour at the end of it, raising his eyes and trying to look 
 through the windows and find out what was going on in the 
 rooms. But he could not see even the Abbe's shadow. Madame 
 Faujas, in the absence of curtains, had, as a make-shift, 
 fastened up some sheets behind the windows. 
 
 At breakfast Mouret seemed quite vexed. 
 
 "Are they dead upstairs'? " he said, as ho cut the children's 
 Ijrcad. " Have you heard them move, Marthe 1 " 
 
 " No, my dear ; but I liavcn't been listening." 
 
 Rose cried out from the kitchen : 
 
 "They've been gone out ever so long. They'll be far enough 
 away now if they've kept on at the same pace.','
 
 30 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 
 
 Mouret summoned the cook and questioned lier minutely. 
 
 " They went out, sir : first the mother, and then the priest. 
 They were walking so softly that I should never have known 
 anytliing about it if their sliadows had not tallen across the 
 kitclien floor when they opened the door. I looked out into 
 the street to see where they were going, but the}' had vanished. 
 They must have gone off in a fine hurry." 
 
 " It is very surprising. But where was I at the time 1 " 
 
 " I think you were in the garden, sir, looking at the grapes 
 on the arbour." 
 
 This put Mouret into a wretchedly bad temper. He began 
 to wrathfully inveigh against priests. They were a set of 
 mystery-mongers, a lot of underhand schemers, with whom the 
 devil himself would be at a loss. They affected such a 
 ridiculous amount of prudery that no one had ever even seen a 
 priest wash his face. And then he wound up by expressing his 
 sorrow that he had ever let his rooms to this Abbe, about whom 
 he knew nothing at all. 
 
 " It is all your fault ! " he exclaimed to his wife, as he got 
 up from the table. 
 
 Marthe was going to protest and to remind him of the dis- 
 cussion they had had on the matter the previous day, but she 
 raised her eyes and only looked at him and said nothing. 
 MoTxret, contrary to his usual custom, resolved to remain at 
 home. He pottei-ed up and down between the dining-room 
 and the garden, poking about and pretending that nothing was 
 in its place and that the house simply invited thieves. Then 
 he got indignant with Sei'ge and Octave, who had set off for 
 the college, he said, quite half an hour too soon. 
 
 " Isn't father going out 1 " Desiree whisjjered in her mother's 
 ear. " He will worry us all to death if he stays at home." 
 
 Marthe hushed her. At last Mouret began to speak of a 
 piece of business Avhich he said he must finish off during the 
 day. And then he complained that he had never a moment to 
 himself and could never get a day's rest at home when he felt 
 he wanted it. Then he went away, quite distressed that he 
 could not remain and see what happened. 
 
 When he returned in the evening he was all on fire with 
 curiosity. 
 
 ^'Well, what about the Abbe?" he asked, without giving 
 himself time to take off" his hat. 
 
 Marthe was working in her usual place on the terrace.
 
 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 31 
 
 " The Abbe ! " she repeated, with an appearance of sTirprise. 
 "Oh, yes! the Abbe —I've really seen nothing of him, bnt I 
 believe he has got settled down now. Rose told me that some 
 furnitnre had come." 
 
 " Tliat's just what I was afraid of ! " exclaimed Mouret. " I 
 wanted to be here when it came ; for, jmi see, the furniture is 
 my security. I knew quite well that you would never think 
 of stirring from j^oiu' cliair. Yoii haven't t;ot much of a head, 
 my dear — Hose ! Rose ! " 
 
 When the cook appeared in answer to his summons, he said 
 to her : 
 
 " There's some furniture come for the people on the second 
 floor 1 " 
 
 " Yes, sir ; it came in a little covered cart. I recognised it 
 as Berii-asse's, the second-hand dealer's. It wasn't a big load. 
 Madame Faujas came on beliind it. I daresay she had been 
 giving the man who pushed it along a helping hand up the Rue 
 Balande." 
 
 " At any rate, you saw the furniture, I suppose 1 Did you 
 notice what there was 1 " 
 
 " Certainly, sir. I had posted myself by the door, and it all 
 went past me, wliicli didn't seem to please Madame Faujas very 
 much. Wait a moment and I'll tell you everything there was. 
 First of all they brought up an iron bed-stead, then a chest of 
 drawers, then two tables and four chairs ; and that was the 
 whole lot of it. And it wasn't new, either. 1 wouldn't have 
 given thirty crowns for the whole collection." 
 
 " But you should have told madame ; we cannot let the 
 rooms under such conditions. I will go at once and talk to the 
 Abbe Bourrette about the matter." 
 
 He was fuming Avith irritation and was just setting off, when 
 Marthe brought him to a sudden halt by saying : 
 
 " Oh ! I had forgotten to tell you. They have paid me six 
 months' rent in advance." 
 
 " What ! They have paid you "? " he stammered out, almost 
 in a tone of annoyance. 
 
 " Yes, the old lady came down and gave me this." 
 
 She put her hand into her work-bag, and gave her husband 
 seventy- five francs in hundrcd-sou-pieces, neatly wrapt up in a 
 piece of newspaper. Mouret counted the money as he said : 
 
 "As long as they pay, they are quite free to stay. But they 
 are strange folks, all the same. Everyone can't be rich, of
 
 32 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 
 
 course ; but that is no I'cason why one sliould behave in this 
 suspicious manner, when one's poor." 
 
 " There is something else I have to tell you," Marthe con- 
 tinued, as she saw him calmed down. " The old lady asked 
 me if we were disposed to part with the folding-bed to her. I 
 told her that we made no use of it, and that she was welcome 
 to keep it as long as she liked." 
 
 "You did quite right. We must do what we can to oblige 
 them. As I have told you before, what bothers me about these 
 confounded priests is that one never caii tell what they are 
 thinking about, or what they are iip to. Apart from that, you 
 will often find very honourable men amongst tliem." 
 
 The money seemed to have consoled him. He joked and 
 teased Serge about his book on the Chinese missions, which 
 the boy happened to be reading just then. During dinner, he 
 affected to feel no longer any cv;riosity about the tenants of 
 the second floor ; but, when Octave mentioned that he had 
 seen the Abbe Faujas leaving the Bishop's residence, Mourtt 
 could not restrain himself any further. When the dessert was 
 put on the table he re-commenced his talk of the previous 
 evening, though afterwards he began to feel a little ashamed 
 of himself. Beneath, his thick-skinned, trader-like stolidity 
 there lurked a keen mind, and he was possessed of an ample 
 fund of good common-sense, and a correctness of judgment 
 which often enabled him to pick out the truth from the midst 
 of all the chattering gossip of the neighbourhood. 
 
 " After all," he said, as he went off to bed, " one has no 
 business to go prying into other people's affairs. The Abbe is 
 quite at liberty to do as he pleases. It is getting wearisome to 
 be always talking about these people, and I, for my part, shall 
 say nothing more about them, now." 
 
 A week passed away. Mouret had resumed his habitual" 
 covirse of life. He prowled about the house, lectured his children, 
 and spent his afternoons away from home, amusing himself by 
 transacting various bits of business, of which he never spoke, 
 and he ate and slept like a man for whom life is an easy down- 
 hill journey, without any jolts or surprises of any kind. The 
 whole place sank back into all its old monotony. Marthe 
 occupied her accustomed place on the terrace, with her little 
 work-table in front of her. Desir^e played by her side. The 
 two lads came home at the usual times, with all their old noisy 
 behaviour ; and Rose, the cook, grumbled and growled at
 
 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 33 
 
 everyone ; while the garden and the dining-room retained all 
 their wonted sleepy calm. 
 
 " You see now," said Mouret to his wife one day, " that you 
 were quite mistaken in thinking that our comfort would be 
 interfered with, by letting the second-floor. We are as quiet 
 and happy as ever we were, and the house seems smaller and 
 cosier." 
 
 He occasionally raised his ej'cs towards the second-floor 
 windows, which Madame Faujas had hung with thick cotton 
 curtains, on the day after her arrival. They were never opened. 
 They had a sanctimonious, conventual look about their stern, 
 cold folds, and they seemed to tell of a deep, unbroken silence, 
 and a cloistral stillness lurking behind them. At distant 
 intervals the windows were slightly opened, and allowed the 
 high, shadowy ceilings to be seen between the snowy whitenesf. 
 of the curtains. But it was all to no purpose tliat Mouret kept 
 up his watch, he never could catch sight of the hand which 
 opened or closed them, and he never even heard the grating of 
 the fastening. Never a sound of human life came down from 
 the second floor. 
 
 At the end of the first week, Mouret had not had another 
 glimpse of the Abbe Faujas. This man who was living in his 
 house, without his ever being able even to catch sight of his 
 shadow, was beginning to affect him with a kind of nervous 
 uneasiness. In spite of all the efforts he made to appear quite 
 indifferent, he relapsed into his old questionings and inquiries. 
 
 " Have you seen anytliing of him 1 " he asked his wife. 
 
 " I fancy I caught a glimpse of him yesterday, as he was 
 coming in, but I am not sure. His mother always wears a 
 black dress, and it might have been she that I saw." 
 
 And as he continued to press her with questions, she began 
 to tell him all she knew. 
 
 " Rose says that he goes out every day, and stays away a 
 long time. As for his mother, she is as -d'cgular as a clock. 
 She comes down at seven o'clock in the morning to go out and 
 do her marketing. She has a big basket, which is always closed, 
 in which she must bring everything back with her, coal, bread, 
 wine and provisions, for no tradesman ever comes with anything 
 for them. They are very courteous and polite ; and Rose says 
 that they always bow to her when they meet her. But generally, 
 however, she does not even hear them come down the stairs." 
 
 " Tlicy must go in for a funny kind of cooking uj) there," 
 

 
 34 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 
 
 said Moiiret, to whom all these details conveyed none of the 
 information he wanted. 
 
 Another evening', when Octave had mentioned that ho had 
 seen the Abbe Faujas entering Saint-Satnrnin's, his father 
 asked him about the priest's appearance, and what effect he had 
 upon the j^assers-by, and what he could be going to do in the 
 church. 
 
 " Ah ! you are really much too curious ! " cried the young 
 man, with a laugh. " He didn't look very striking in the sun- 
 shine with his rusty cassock, I can vouch for that much. I 
 noticed, too, tliat, as he walked along, he kept in the shadow of 
 the houses, which made his cassock look a little blacker. He 
 wasn't looking very proud of himself, and he hurried along with his 
 head bent down. There were two girls who began to laugh as 
 he crossed the Place. The Abbe raised his head and looked at 
 them with an expression 'of great softness — didn't he, Sergei" 
 
 Then Serge related how he had several times, as he was re- 
 turning from the college, followed the Abbe at a distance on 
 his way back from Saint-Saturnin's. He passed through tlie 
 streets without speaking to anyone ; and he seemed not to know 
 a single soul, and appeared hurt by the suppressed titters and 
 jeers which he heard around him. 
 
 " Do they talk of him, then, in the town ? " asked Mouret, 
 whose interest was greatly aroused. 
 
 " No one has ever spoken to me about him," Octave replied. 
 
 "Yes," said Serge, "they do talk of him. The Abbe Bour- 
 rette's nephew told me that he wasn't a favourite at the church. 
 They are not fond of these priests who come from a distance ; 
 and then he has such a miserable appearance. When they get 
 accustomed to him, they will leave the poor man alone, but 
 just at first it is only likely that he should attract notice." 
 
 Then Marthe advised the two young fellows not to satisfy any 
 outside curiosity about the Abbe. 
 
 "Oh, yes! they», may answer any questions," Mouret ex- 
 claimed. "Certainly nothing that we know of him could be 
 likely to compromise him in any way." 
 
 From this time forward, with the best faith in the world 
 and without meaning the least harm, Mouret turned his 
 sons into a couple of spies over the priest. He told Octave 
 and Serge that they were to repeat to him all that was said 
 about him in the town, and he also instructed them to follow 
 him Nvhcnever they came acr him. But the information that
 
 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. S'? 
 
 was to be dcvived from gossip was a stream that was quickly 
 dried up. The unfavourable talk that was occasioned by the 
 arrival of a stranger curate into the diocese soon died away, 
 and the town appeared to have extended its pardon to "the 
 poor fellow," who glided about in the shadow in such a rusty 
 old cassock, and its only feeling for him was now one of disdain. 
 The priest now, on the other hand, went straight to the cathe- 
 dral and so returned from it, always passing through the same 
 streets. Octave said, laughingly, that he was sure he was 
 counting the paving-stones. 
 
 In the house, Mouret bethought himself of engaging the help 
 of Desiree, who never went out, in collecting information. In 
 the evening he used to take her off to the bottom of the garden 
 and listen to her chatter about what she had done and what she 
 had seen during the day, and he tried to lead her on to the 
 topic of the tenants of the second floor. 
 
 " Now% just listen to what I tell you/' he said to her one day. 
 " To-morrow, when the window is open, just throw your ball 
 into the room, and then go up and ask for it." 
 
 The next day the gid threw her ball into the room, but she 
 had scarcely reached the steps of the house before the ball, re- 
 turned by an invisible hand, bounced up from the terrace. Her 
 father, who had reckoned on the child's taking ways bringing 
 about a renewal of the intercourse which had been interrupted 
 since the first day, now lost all hope. It was quite clear that 
 the Abbe had completely made up his mind to keep himself to 
 himself. This rebuflf, however, only made Moviret's curiosity all 
 the keener. He even condescended to go gossiping in corners 
 with the cook, to the great displeasure of Marthe, who re- 
 proached him for his want of self-respect ; but he only got angry 
 with her and defended himself by lies. However, as he felt 
 he was in the wi'ong, it was only in secret that he henceforth 
 talked to Kose about the Faujases. 
 
 One morning she beckoned to him to follow her into the 
 kitchen. 
 
 " Oh, sir ! " she said, as she shut the dOor, " I have, been 
 watching for you coming down from your room for more than 
 an hour." 
 
 " Have you found something out ? " 
 
 " Well, you shall hear. Yesterday evening I was talking to 
 Madame Faujas for more than an hour ! " 
 
 A thrill of joy passed through Mouret. He sat down on an
 
 3(5 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 
 
 old tattered rush-bottom kitchen chair, in the midst of all the 
 litter and disorder of the previous day. 
 
 " Go along ! make haste ! " he said. 
 
 "Well," continued the cook, "I was at the street-door snyinc; 
 good-night to ]\Ionsieur Rastoil's servant, when ISLidame Faujas 
 came down-stairs to empty a pail of dirty water in the gutter. 
 Instead of immediately going back again, without even turning 
 her head round, as she generally docs, she stopped there for a 
 moment to look at me. Then it struck me that she wanted to 
 speak to me, and I said to her that it had been a beautiful day, and 
 that it would be good for the grapes. She said, * Yes, yes,' in 
 an unconcerned sort of way, and in the indifferent manner of a 
 woman who has no land and has no interest in such matters. 
 But she put down her ]^ail and made no attempt to go away ; she 
 even came and leant her back against the wall by my side — " 
 
 " Well ! well ! wdiat did she say to yoii ? " cried Monret, tor- 
 tured by his impatience. 
 
 " Well, of course, you will understand that I wasn't silly 
 enough to begin to question her. She would have gone straight 
 off if I had. Without seeming to intend anything, I suggested 
 things to her which I thouglit might set her talking. The 
 Cure of Saint-Saturnin's, that worthy Monsieur Conipan, hap- 
 pened to be passing, and I told her that he was very ill and 
 that he wasn't long for this world, and that there would be 
 a very great difhculty in filling up his place at the cathedral. 
 She was all ears at once, I can tell you. She even asked mo 
 what was the matter with Monsieur Compan. Tlien, going 
 on from one thing to another, I gradually got talking about 
 our bishop. Monseigneur Eorisseh^t was a most excellent and 
 worthy man, I told her. She did not know his age, so I told 
 her that he was sixty, very delicate also, and that he let him- 
 self be led by the nose. There is a good deal of talk about 
 the vicar-general, Monsieur Fenil, who is all powerful with the 
 bishop. The old lady was quite interested, and she would have 
 stayed out there in the street all night." 
 
 An expression of desperation passed over Mouret's face. '" All 
 this that you're telling me is what you said yourself," he cried. 
 " What was it that she said ? That's what I want to hear." 
 
 " Wait a little and let me finish," Rose replied very calmly. 
 " I was gradually gaining my purpose. To win her confidence, 
 I ended by talking to her aboiit ourselves. I told her that 
 you were Monsieur Francois Mouret, a retired merchant from
 
 THE CONQUEST OF I'LASSANS. 37 
 
 Marseilles, who hud managed in fifteen years to make a fortune 
 out ot wuies and oils and almonds, I added that you iiad pre- 
 ferred to come and settle down and live on your means in 
 Plassans, a quiet town, where 3'our wife's relations lived. I 
 even contrived to let her know, too, tliat madame was your 
 cousin, tliat you were forty years old and she Avas thirty-seven, 
 and that you lived very happily together ; in fact, I told her 
 all about you. She seemed to be very much interested and 
 kept saying, ' Yes, yes,' in her deliberate way ; and, wliea I 
 stopped for a moment, she nodded her head as though to tell 
 me she was listening and that I might go on. We went on 
 talking in this way, with our backs against the wall, lilic a 
 couple of old friends, till it was quite dark." 
 
 Mouret bounced up from his chair in angry iu'lignation. 
 
 " What ! " he cried, " is that all ? She led you on to gossip 
 to her for an hour, and she herself told you nothing ! " 
 
 "When it got dark, she .said to me : 'The air is becoming quite 
 chilly.' And then she took up her pail and went back upstairs." 
 
 " You are nothing but an idiot ! That old woman up there 
 is more than a match for half a score such as you. Ah ! they'll 
 be laughing finely now that they have wormed out of you all 
 that they want to know about us. Do you hear me, Rose 1 I 
 tell you that you are nothing but an idiot ! " 
 
 The old cook waxed very indignant, and she began to bounce 
 excitedly up and down the kitchen, knocking the pots and pans 
 about noisily, and crumpling up the dusters and then flinging 
 them down. 
 
 *' It was scarcely worth your while, sir," she hissed out, " to 
 come into my kitchen to call me insulting names. You had 
 better take yourself off. What I did, I did to please you. If 
 madame finds us here together talking about these people, slie 
 will be angry with me, and quite rightly, because it is NATong 
 for us to be doing so. And after all, I coiddn't drag words from 
 the old lady's lips, if she wasn't willing to talk. 1 did as any 
 one else would have done under the same circumstances. I 
 talked and told her about your affairs, and it was no fault of 
 mine that she didn't tell me about hers. Co and ask l,er about 
 tliem yoiu-self, since you arc anxious to know about tlicm. 
 Perhaps you won't make such an idiot of yourself as I have 
 done." 
 
 Sljc had raised lier voice, and was tall.ing so loudly, that 
 Mouret thought it would be more prudent to retire, and iie
 
 38 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 
 
 closed the kitchen-door after him to prevent his wife hearing 
 lier. But Rose pulled it open again directly he had passed out, 
 and cried out after him in the passage: 
 
 " I'll bother myself about it no longer ; do you hear ? You 
 may get somebody else to do your underhand business for you!" 
 
 Mouret was quite vanquished. He showed some irritation at 
 his defeat, and tried to console himself by saying that these 
 second-floor tenants of his were mere nobodies. Gradually he 
 succeeded in making this opinion of his own that of his acquaint- 
 ances, and then that of the whole town. The Abbe Faujas 
 came to be looked upon as a priest without means and without 
 ambition, and completely outside the pale of the intrigues of 
 the diocese. People imagined that he was ashamed of his 
 poverty, that he was glad to perform any unpleasant duties in 
 connection with the cathedral, and that he tried to keep him- 
 self in the obscurity of the shade as much as possible. There 
 was only one matter of ciu-iosity left in connection with him, 
 and that was the reason of his having come to Plassans from 
 Besan9on. Queer stories were circulated about him, but they 
 all seemed very improbable. Mouret himself, who had played 
 the spy over his tenants simply for amusement and to pass the 
 time, just as he would have played a game at cards or bowls, 
 was beginning to forget that he had a priest living in his house, 
 when an event happened which greatly excited him. 
 
 One afternoon as he was returning home, he saw the Abbe 
 Faujas in front of him, going up tlie Rue Balande. ^loiu'et 
 slackened his pace and examined him at his leisure. Although 
 tlie priest had been lodging in his house for a month, this was 
 the first time that he had thus seen him in broad daylight. 
 The Abbe still wore his old cassock ; he was walking slowly, 
 with his hat in his hand and his head bare in spite of the chilly 
 air. The street, which was a very steep one, with its big, bare 
 houses always closed, was quite deserted. Mouret, who had 
 begun to quicken his pace again, was obliged to walk on the 
 tips of his toes for fear the priest should hear him and make 
 his escape. But as they neared Monsieur Rastoil's house, a 
 group of people turning out of the Place of the Sub-Prefecture 
 entered it. The Abbe Faujas made a slight detour to avoid 
 these persons. He watched the door close, and then, suddenly 
 stopping, he turned round towards his landlord, who was now 
 close up to him. 
 
 I am very glad to have happened to meet you just now," 
 
 a
 
 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 39 
 
 he said, with his excessive politeness, "otherwise, I shoukl 
 hiive ventured to disturb you this evening. The hist time it 
 rained, the wet came through the ceiling of my room, and 1 
 want you to come and look at it." 
 
 Mouret remained standing in front of him, and stammered 
 out in confusion, that he was entirely at the Abbe's service. 
 And then, as they went in together, he asked him at what time 
 he shoiild come and look at the ceiling. 
 
 " I should like you to come at once," the Abbe said, " if it 
 wouldn't be troubling you too much." 
 
 Mouret went up the stairs after him almost choking with ex- 
 citement, while Rose followed them with her eyes from the 
 kitchen-door quite dazed with astonishment.
 
 40 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 When Moiiret reached the second floor, he was more excited 
 than a youth wlio is for the first time entering a woman's bed- 
 room. This unexpected satisfaction of his long thwarted desires, 
 and tlie hope of seeing something quite extraordinary, almost 
 prevented his breathing. The Abbe Faiijas slipped the key, 
 which he quite concealed in bis big fingers, into the lock witb- 
 ont the slightest sound, and the door opened as silentl}' as if it 
 were hung upon hinges of velvet. Then the Abbe, stepping 
 bacl\, mutely motioned to Mouret lo enter. 
 
 The cotton curtains in the two windows were so heavy that 
 the room lay in a pale, chalky dimness like the half-light of a 
 cell. It was a very large room, with a lofty ceiling, and a quiet 
 and neat wall-paper of a faded yellow. Mouret ventured into 
 the room, advancing with short steps over the floor, which was 
 as smooth and shiny as a mirror, and the coldness of which he 
 seemed to feel striking through the soles of his boots. He 
 glanced furtively round him and examined the curtainlcss iron 
 bed-stead, with its sheets so straightly stretched that it looked 
 like a block of white stone lying in the corner. The chest of 
 drawers, stowed away at the other end of the room, a little 
 table in the middle and two chairs, one before each window, 
 completed the furniture. There was not a single paper on the 
 table, not an article of any kind on the chest of drawers, and 
 not a garment hanging against the walls. Everything was 
 perfectly bare. Over the chest of drawers there hung a great 
 Christ carved in black wood, whose gloomy cross was all that 
 broke the sombre nakedness of the room. 
 
 "Come this way, sir, will youV said the Abbe. "It is in 
 this corner that the ceiling is stained." 
 
 But Mouret did not hurry himself, he was quite happy where 
 he was. Although he saw none of the extraordinary things he 
 had vaguely expected to see, there seemed to him to be a 
 peculiar exhalation and odour about the room. It smelt of a
 
 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 41 
 
 priest, he thought ; of a man with diiTcvcnt ways from other 
 nieii ; of one who blows out his cniulle whm he is going to change 
 his shirt, and who never leaves his drawers or his razors lying 
 about. But it vexed him that he could see nothing carelessly 
 left on any of the pieces of furniture or in any corner of the 
 room, on which he could base any hypothesis. The room was 
 just like its provoking occupant, silent, cold and inscraiable. 
 He w^as extremely surprised not to find, as he had expected to 
 do, any appearance of poverty. 1'he room, on the contrary, 
 produced upon him something of the same impression as he had 
 felt when he had once entered the very richly furnished draw- 
 ing-room of a prefect of Marseilles. Tlie great Christ seemed 
 to fill it with His black arms. 
 
 Mouret felt, however, that he must go and look at the corner 
 which the Abbe Faujas was inviting liim to inspect. 
 
 "You see the stain, don't youl" the priest asked. "It has 
 faded a little since yesterday." 
 
 Mouret craned himself up on the tips of his toes and strained 
 his eyes, but he could see nothing ; though, when the Abbe had 
 drawn back the curtains, he was able to distiugaish a slight 
 damp-stain. 
 
 " It's nothing very serious," ho said. 
 
 " Oh no ! but I thought it was better to tell you of it. The 
 wet must have soaked in near the edge of the roof." 
 
 " Yes, you are right ; near the edge of the roof." 
 
 Mouret made no farther remark ; he was examining the room, 
 which was now lying clear and distinct in the full day-light. It 
 looked less solemn than it did before, but it still remained 
 taciturn as ever. Tlicre was not even a grain of dust lying 
 about to tell aught of the Abbe's life. 
 
 "Perhaps," continued the priest, " wc may be able to dis- 
 cover the place from the window. Just wait a moment." 
 
 He proceeded to open the Avindow, but Mouret protested 
 against him troubhng himself any further, and said tliat the 
 woi'kmen would easily be able to find the leak. 
 
 "It is no trouble at all, I assm-e you," replied the Abbe with 
 polite insistance. " I know that landlords like to know how 
 matters are going on. Inspect everything, I beg of you. The 
 house is yours." 
 
 As he uttered this last sentence he smiled, a thing he did 
 but rarely ; and then as Mouret and himself leaned over the 
 bar that crossed the window and turned tlieir eyes towards the
 
 42 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 
 
 spout, lie launched out into a flow of technical details, and tried 
 to account for the appearance of the stain. 
 
 " I think there has been a slight depression of the tiles, per- 
 haps even a breakage ; unless, indeed, that crack which you 
 can see up there in the cornice extends into the retaining-wall." 
 
 " Yes, yes, that is very possible," Mouret replied ; " but I 
 must confess, yoxir reverence, that I really don't understand 
 anything about these matters. However, the bricklayer will 
 see to it." 
 
 The priest said nothing further on the subject, but remained 
 where he was quietly gazing out upon the garden beneath him. 
 Mouret, who was leaning by his side, did not dare to go away 
 for politeness' sake. He was quite won over when his tenant, 
 after an interval of silence, said to him in his soft voice : 
 
 "You have a very pretty garden, sir." 
 
 " Oh ! its nothing out of the common," he replied. " There 
 used to be some fine trees which I was obliged to have cut 
 down, for nothing would gi'ow in their shade, and we have got 
 to regard utility, you know. This plot is quite large enough 
 for us and keeps us in vegetables all through the season." 
 ■ The Abbe seemed siu'prised, and asked Mouret for detailed 
 explanations. The garden was an old-fashioned country garden, 
 surrounded with arbours, and divided into four regular square 
 compartments by tall borders of box. In the middle there was 
 a shallow basin, but there was no fountain. Only a single one 
 of the squares was devoted to flowers. In the other three, 
 which were planted at the corners with fruit-trees, tliere was a 
 crop of magnificent cabbages and other vegetables. The paths 
 of yellow gravel were kept in a state of the most precise neat- 
 ness. 
 
 " It is a little paradise," the Abbe F'aujas said. 
 
 " It has plenty of disadvantages, all the same," replied Mouret, 
 who was feeling extremely delighted at hearing his ground so 
 highly praised. " You will have noticed, for instance, that we 
 are on a slope, and the gai'dens about here are on different 
 levels. Monsieur Rastoil's is lower than mine, which, again, is 
 lower than that of the Sub-Prefecture. The consequence is that 
 the rain often does a great deal of damage. Then again, which 
 is a still greater disadvantage, the people in the Sub-Prefecture 
 overlook me, and the more so now that they have made that 
 terrace which commands my wall. It is true that I overlook 
 Monsieur Rastoil's garden, but that is a very poor compensation
 
 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 43 
 
 I can assure you, for a man who never troubles himself with 
 his neighbour's doings." 
 
 The priest seemed to be listening oiit of mere complaisance, 
 just nodding his head occasionally but making no .remarks. 
 He followed with his eyes the indicating motions of his land- 
 lord's hands. 
 
 " There is still another inconvenience," continued the latter, 
 pointing to a path that ran along the bottom of the garden. 
 "You see that narrow road between the two walls'? It is 
 called the Trupasse des Chevilottes. It is a blind-alley leading 
 to a cart-entrance to the grounds of the Sub-Prefecture. All 
 the neighbouring properties have little doors giving access to 
 the alley, and there are endless mysterious comings and goings. 
 I, who am a family man with children, have had my door 
 fastened up with a couple of stout nails." 
 
 He looked at the Abbe and winked his eyes, hoping that the 
 priest would question him about the mysterious comings and 
 goings to which he had just alluded. But the Abbe seemed 
 quitt3 unconcerned, and he just glanced at the alley without 
 showing any curiosity on the sxibject. Then he continued 
 again to gaze placidly down npon the IMeurets' garden. 
 Marthe was in her customary place near the edge of the 
 terrace hemming napkins. She had raised her head sharply 
 on first hearing voices, and then resumed her work again, full 
 0^ surprise at seeing her husband at one of the second-floor 
 windows in the company of the priest. She appeared now to 
 be quite unconscious of their presence. Mouret, how^ever, had 
 raised his voice from a sort of unconscious braggartism, proud 
 of beins able to show his wife that he had at last been able to 
 make his way into this room that had been kept so persistently 
 private. Every now and then the priest's calm eyes rested 
 upon the woman of whom he could see nothing more than the 
 back of her bent neck and the black coil of her hair.' 
 
 They were both silent again, and the Abbe Faujas still 
 seemed disinclined to leave the window. He now appeared to 
 be examining their neighbour's flower-beds. Monsieur Ilastoil's 
 garden was arranged after the English fashion, with little 
 walks and grass plots broken by small flower-beds. At the 
 bottom there was a round cluster of trees, underneath which 
 were set a table and some rustic chairs. 
 
 " Monsieur Rastoil is very rich," resumed Mouret, who had 
 followed the direction of the Abbe's eyes. " Hi^ garden costs
 
 44 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 
 
 him a large sum of money. The waterfall — you can't see it 
 from here, it is bchi]id those trees — ran away with more than 
 three hundred francs. There isn't a vegetable about the place, 
 nothing bat flowers. At one time the ladies even talked about 
 cutting down the fruit trees ; but that would really have been 
 wicked, for the jDoar-trees are magnificent specimens. Well, I 
 suppose a man has a riglit to lay out his garden to please his 
 own fancy, if he can afford to do it." 
 
 Then, as the Abbe still continued silent, he continued : 
 
 " You know Monsieur Rastoil, don't you 1 Every morning- 
 he walks about under his trees from eight o'clock till nine. He 
 is a heavy man, rather short, bald and clean shaven, and his 
 head is as round as a ball. He reached his sixtieth birthday 
 at the beginning of last August, I believe. He has been 
 president of our civil tribunal for nearly tw'enty years. They 
 say he is a very good fellow, but I see very little of him. 
 ' Good morning,' and ' Good evening,' and that's about all that 
 ever passes between us." 
 
 He stopped speaking as he saw several people coming down 
 the steps of the neighbouring house and making their way to 
 the arbour of trees, 
 
 "Ah yes ! " he resumed, lowering his voice, " to-day's Tues- 
 day. There is a dinner party at the Rastoils'." 
 
 The Abbe had not been able to refrain from moving slightly, 
 and had stooped a little to see better. A couple of priests 
 who were walking by tlic side of two tall girls seemed to 
 specially interest him. 
 
 "Do you know who those gentlemen are?" Mouret asked 
 him. • 
 
 And, when the priest only replied by a vague gesture, he 
 added : 
 
 " Tliey were crossing the line Balande just as we met 
 each other. The tall and younger one, the one who is walk- 
 ing between Monsieur Rastoil's two daughters, is the Abbe 
 Surin, our bishop's secretary. He is said to be a very amiable 
 3"oung man. The old one, who is walking a little behind, is 
 one of our chief clergy, the Abbe Fenil. He is the head of 
 the seminary. He is a terrible man, flat and sharp as a sabre. 
 I wish ho would turn round so that you might see his eyes. I 
 am quite surprised that you don't know those gentlemen." 
 
 "I go ou.t very little," said the Abbe, "and there is no 
 house in the town that I visit."
 
 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 4ri 
 
 " Ah ! that isn't wise of you. You must often feel veiy 
 dull To do 3^ou justice, your reverence, you certainly are not 
 of a curious disposition. Just fancy ! you've been here a month 
 and 3'ou didn't even know that Monsieur Rastoil had a dinner- 
 party every Tuesday. Wh}-, it's i-ight before your e3-es there 
 from this window ! " 
 
 ]\louret latighed sliglitly. He was feeling a rather contemp- 
 tuons opinion of tlie Abb€'. Then in confidential tones he 
 added : 
 
 "You see that tall old man who is with Madame Rastoil — 
 the thin one I mean, with broad brims to his hat 1 Well, tliat 
 is ]\Ionsieur de Bonrdeu, the former prefect of the Drome, a 
 prefect who was turned out of office by the revolution of 1848. 
 He's another one that you don't know, I'll be bound. And 
 ]\Ionsicur Maffre there, the magistrate, that white-headed old 
 gentleman who is coming on the last with Monsieur Rastoil, 
 don't you know him? Well, that is really inexcusable. He 
 is an honorary canon of Saint-Satiu-nin's. Between ourselves, 
 he is accused of having killed his wife with his harshness and 
 miserliness." 
 
 He stopped short and looked the Abbe in the face and said 
 to him suddenly with a smile : 
 
 "I beg your reverence's pardon, but I am not a very devout 
 person." 
 
 The Abbe again made a vague movement of his hand, a 
 movement which did duty as an answer while it saved him the 
 necessity of making a more explicit reply. 
 
 "No, I am not a very devout person," Mouret repeated 
 smilingly. " Kvery one must be left free, mustn't he? Tl\e 
 llastoils, now, are a religious family. You must have seen tlie 
 mother and daughters at Saint-Saturnin's. They are parish- 
 ioners of yours. Ah ! those poor girls ! Tiie elder, Angeline, 
 is fully twenty-six years old, and the other one, Aurelie, is 
 going on for twentj^-four. And they're no beauties either, 
 quite yellow and shrewishdooking. They wouldn't let tlie 
 younger one marry till her elder sister has got off, but I dare- 
 say tliey'll end by finding husbands somewhere for the sake of 
 their dowry. Their mother there, that fat little woman who 
 looks as innocent and mild as a sheep, has given poor Rastoil 
 some pretty experiences." 
 
 He winked his left eye, a common habit of his when he 
 indulged in any slightly broad i)leasantry. Tlie Abbe lowered
 
 40 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 
 
 his eyes, expecting Mouret to explain himself, but, as he 
 remained silent, he raised them again and watched the pompany 
 in the garden seat themselves round the table under the trees. 
 
 Mouret resumed his explanatory remarks. 
 
 " They will stay out there, enjoying the fresh air, till dinner- 
 time. It is just the same every Tuesday. That Abb6 Surin 
 is a great favoimte. Look how he is laughing there with 
 Mademoiselle Aurelie.- Ah ! the Abbe Fenil has observed us. 
 What eyes he has got ! He isn't very fond of me, as I've had a 
 dispute with a relation of his. But where has the Abbe Bour- 
 rette got to 1 We haven't seen anything of him, have we ? 
 It is very extraordinary. He never misses Monsieur Rastoil's 
 Tuesdays. He must be ill. You know him, don't you 1 
 What a worthy man he is ! A most devoted servant of God ! " 
 
 The Abb3 Faujas was not listening to him any longer. His 
 eyes were constantly meeting those of the Abbe Fenil. He 
 bore the priest's scrutiny with perfect unconcern and never 
 diverted his glance. He had leant himself more fully against 
 the iron bar and his eyes seemed to have grown bigger. 
 
 "Ah ! here come the young people!" Mom-et resumed, 'as 
 three young men ari'ived on the scene. " The oldest one is Ras- 
 toil's son ; he has just been called to the bar. The two others are 
 the magistrate's sons ; they ar^||||Lat college. By the bye, I won- 
 der why those two young scamps of mine haven't come back yet." 
 
 At that very moment Octave and Serge made their appear- 
 ance on the terrace. They leant their backs against the balus- 
 trade and began to tease Desiree, who had just sat down by her 
 mother's side. As the young folks caught sight of their father 
 at the second-floor window, they lowered their voices and 
 smothered their laughter. 
 
 " There you see all my little family ! " said Mouret com- 
 plaisantly. " We stay at home, we do ; and we have no 
 visitors. Our garden is a closed paradise, where the devil 
 can't enter to tempt us." 
 
 He smiled as he spoke, for he was really amusing himself at 
 the Abbe's expense. The latter had slowly brought his eyes to 
 bear upon the group under the window, his landlord's family. 
 He gazed at them for a moment and then looked round upon 
 the old-fashioned garden with its beds of vegetables surrounded 
 with borders of box ; and then he again turned his eyes to 
 Monsieur Rastoil's pretentious grounds, and last of all, as 
 though he wanted to get the plan of tlie whole neighbourhood
 
 THE COXQITIST OF PLASS.ANS. 47 
 
 into his head, he turned his attention to the garden of the Sub- 
 Prefecture. There was nothing but a Lxrge central lawn, a 
 gently undulating carjiet of grass. It was dotted over with 
 ckisters of ever-green shrubs, and tall thicklj-foliaged chestnut 
 trees gave a jxark-like appearance to this patch of ground 
 hemmed in by the neighbom-ing houses. 
 
 The Abbe Faujas continued to gaze under the chestnut trees, 
 and at last he said ; 
 
 " These gardens are quite lively. Tliere are guests, too, in 
 the one on the left." 
 
 ^Nlouret raised his eyes. 
 
 " Oh, yes ! " he said, unconcernedly, " it's like tliat every 
 afternoon. They are the friends of Monsieiu' Pequeur des 
 Saulaies, our sub-prefect. In the summer time they meet in 
 the same way in the evenings round the basin on the left, 
 which you can't see from here. Ah ! Monsieur Condamin has 
 got back ! That fine old man there, who is so well preserved 
 and has such a bright colour ; he is oiu* conservator of rivers 
 and forests ; a jovial old fellow, who is constantly to be seen, 
 gloved and tightly breeched, on horseback. And the tales he 
 can tell, too ! He doesn't belong to this neighbourhood, and 
 he has lately married a very young woman. However, that's 
 fortunately no business of mine 1 " 
 
 He bent down his head again as he heard De'siree, who was 
 playing with Serge, break out into one of her childish laughs. 
 But tlie Abbe, whose face was coloured with a slight flush, re- 
 called his attention, as he asked : 
 
 " Is that the sub-prefect, that fat gentleman with the white 
 tie 1 " 
 
 This question seemed to amuse Mouret exceedingly. 
 
 " Oh, no ! " he replied with a laugh. " It is very evident 
 that you don't know Monsieur Pequeur des Saulaies. He isn't 
 forty, and he's a tall, handsome, and very distinguished-looking 
 young man. That fat gentleman is Doctor Porquier, the 
 fashionable medical man of Plassans. He is a very well-to-do 
 man, I can assure you, and he has only one trouble, his son 
 Guillaume. Do you see those two people who are sitting on the 
 bench with their backs turned towards us 1 They are Monsieur 
 Paloquc, the judge, and his wife. They are the ugliest couple 
 in the neighbourhood. It is difficult to say which is the worse- 
 looking, the husband or the wife. Fortunately they have no 
 children."
 
 48 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 
 
 Mouvet began to laugh loudly ; he was growing wainii and 
 excited, and he kept striking the window bar with his hand. 
 
 "I can never look at the assemblies in those two places," 
 he continiicd, motioning with his head, first towards Monsieur 
 Rastoil's garden and then towards that of the sub-prefect, 
 " without being highly amused. Your reverence doesn't take 
 any interest in politics, or I could tell j'ou things which would 
 tickle you immensely. Rightly or wrongly, T mj'solf pass for a 
 republican. Business matters take me a good deal about the 
 country ; I am the friend of the peasantry, and they have even 
 talked about proposing me for the Council-General — -in short, 
 I am a well-known man. Well, on my right here, at Monsieur 
 Rastoil's, we have the cream of the Legitimists, and on the 
 left, at the Sub-Prefecture, we have the big-wigs of the Empire. 
 And so, you see, my poor old-fashioned garden, my little happy 
 nook, lies between two hostile camps. I am coniinually afraid 
 lest they should begin throwing stones at each other, for the 
 stones, you see, might fall into my garden." 
 
 Mouret appeared to be quite delighted with his own witticisms, 
 and he drew closer to the Abbe like some old gossip who is just 
 going to launch out into a long story. 
 
 " Plassnns is a very curious place from a political point of 
 view. The Coup d'Etat succeeded here because the town is 
 conservative. But first of all it is Legitimist and Orleanist ; so 
 much so, indeed, that at the commencement of the Empire, it 
 made special claims for itself. As these were disregarded, the 
 town grew annoyed and went over to the opposition ; yes, your 
 reverence, to the opposition. Last year we elected for our 
 deputy the Marquis de Lagrifoul, an old nobleman of mediocre 
 abilities, but one whose election was a very bitter pill to the 
 Sab-Prefecture. — Ah, look ! your reverence ; there is Monsieur 
 Pequeur des Saulaies ! He is with the mayor. Monsieur 
 Delangre." 
 
 The Abbe looked keenly in the direction indicated by Mouret. 
 The sub-prefect, a very dark man, was smiling beneath his 
 waxed moustaches. He was irreproachably dressed, and his 
 whole appearance bespoke the fasliionable officer and iirbanc 
 administrator. The mayor was at his side, talking and gesti- 
 culating very rapidly. He was a short man, with square 
 slioulders, and a sunken face that was rather Punch-like in 
 appearance. 
 
 " JMonsieur Pequcur des Saulaios," continued Mouret, '• felt
 
 THE CONQUEST OF TLASSANS. 49 
 
 SO confident of the return of the official candidate that jhe 
 result of the election nearly made him ill. It was very amus- 
 ing'. On the evening of the election, the garden of the Sub- 
 Prefecture was as dark and gloomy as a ceraeterj', while in the 
 Kastoils' grounds there Avere lamps and candles burning under 
 the trees, and joyous laughter and a perfect uproar of triumph. 
 There was nothing that could be seen from the street, but they 
 threw off all restraint in the garden, and gave full vent to their 
 feelings. Oh, yes! I see singular things sometimes, though I 
 don't say anything about them." 
 
 He checked himself for a moment, as tliough he was unwill- 
 ing to say anything more, but his itching to gossip was too 
 strong for him. 
 
 " I wonder what course they will take now at the Sub- 
 Prefecture 1 " he continued. " They will never again get their 
 candidate elected. They don't understand the people about 
 here, and they are very weak. I was told that Monsieur 
 Pequcur des Saulaies was to have had a prefecture if the election 
 had gone off all riglit. Ah ! he will remain a sub-prefect for a 
 long time yet, I imagine ! What stratagem will they have 
 recourse to, I wonder, to overthrow the marquis ? They will 
 certainly have recourse to one of some kind or other, and do 
 their best somehow to eftcct the conquest of Plassans." 
 
 He turned his eyes upon the Abbe, from whom he had been 
 lookinof away for the last moment or two, and he checked him- 
 self suddenly as he caught sight of the priest's eagerly attentive 
 face and glistening eyes, and ears that seemed to have grown 
 bigger. All his middle class prudence reasserted itself, and he 
 felt that he had said rather too much, so he hastily added : 
 
 "But, after all, I really know nothing about it. People 
 tell so many ridiculous stories. All I care about is to be al- 
 lowed to live quietly in my own house." 
 
 He would have liked to leave the window, but he dared not go 
 away suddenly after having been gossiping in such an un- 
 resti-ained and familiar fashion. He was beginning to think 
 that if one of them had been having his laugh at the other, it 
 certainly was not he who had played the more desirable part. 
 
 The Abb6 continued to glance alternately at the two gardens 
 on his right and left in his calm, unconcerned manner, and he 
 did not make the least attempt to induce Mouret to go on talk- 
 ing. The latter was beginning to wish, with a feeling of im- 
 patience, that his wife or one of his children would call to him 
 
 D
 
 50 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 
 
 to come into tlie garden, and he was greatly relieved when he 
 saw Rose ajapear on the stops outside the house. She raised 
 her head towards him. 
 
 "Well, sir!" she cried; "aren't you coming at all to-day"? 
 The soup has been on the table for the last quarter of an hour ! " 
 
 " All right, Rose ! I'll be down directly," he replied. 
 
 Then he made his apologies to the Abbe, and left the window. 
 The chilly look of the room, which he had forgotten while his 
 back had been turned to it, added to the confusion he was feel- 
 ing. It seemed to him like a huge confessional-box with its 
 awful black Christ, which must have heard everything he had 
 said. When the Abbe took leave of him with a silent bow, this 
 sudden breaking-off of their conversation had a distressing effect 
 upon him, and so he stepped back again, and, raising his eyes 
 to the ceiling, he said : 
 
 "It is in that corner, then 1 " 
 
 " What is 1 " asked the Abbe in surprise. 
 
 " The stain that you spoke to me about." 
 
 The priest could not suppress a smile, and he again went and 
 pointed out the stain to Mouret. 
 
 "Ah! I can see it quite plainly now," the latter said. 
 " Well, I'll send the workmen up to-morrow." 
 
 Then at last he left the room, and before he had reached the 
 end of the landing, the door was noiselessly closed after him. 
 The silence of the staircase irritated him extremely, and as he 
 went down the steps he muttered : 
 
 "The confounded fellow! He gets everything out of one 
 without asking a single question ! "
 
 51 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 The next morning old Madame Rougon, Marlhe's mother, came 
 to pay a visit to the Mourets. It was a very unusual occurrence, 
 as there was a coolness between Mouret and his wife's relations 
 which had increased since the election of tlie Marquis de Lagri- 
 foul, whose success the latter attributed to Mouret's influence 
 in the rural districts. Marthe used to go alone when she went 
 to see her relations. Her mother, " that black Felicite,"as she 
 was called, had retained at sixty-six years of age all the slim- 
 ness and vivacity of a young girl. She always wore silk dresses, 
 crowded with flounces, and was especially partial to yellows and 
 drabs. 
 
 When she entered the diuing-room there was no one there 
 but ^larthe and Mouret. 
 
 " Hallo ! " cried the latter in great surprise, as he saw 
 her coming, "here's your mother ! I wonder what she's come 
 for ? She was here less than a month ago. She's scheming 
 after something or other, I know." 
 
 The Rougoos, whose assistant Mouret had been before Iiis 
 marriage, when their shabby little shop in the old quarter of the 
 town seemed to speak of nothing but bankruptcy, were the objects 
 of his continual suspicion. They returned the feeling by a 
 bitter and deep-seated animosity, their rancour being especially 
 aroused by the speedy success which had attended him in busi- 
 Jiess. When their son-in-law said, " I owe my fortune to nothing 
 ijiit ray own exertions and hard work," they bit their lips and 
 understood quite well that he was accusing them of having 
 gained theirs by less honourable means. Notwithstanding the 
 fine house she had on the Place of the Sub-Prefecture, 
 Felicite silently envied the peaceful little home of the 
 Mourets with all the bitter jealousy of a retired shop-keeper 
 wlio owed her fortune to something else than the profits of her 
 buhincss. 
 
 Felicite kissed Marthe on the forehead and then tiavc her
 
 52 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 
 
 hand to IMouret. She and ner son-in-law generally affected a 
 bantering tone, half joking and half serious, in their conver- 
 sations together. 
 
 " Well," she said to him with a smile, " the gendarmes haven't 
 been for you yet then, you revolutionist 1 " 
 
 " No, not yet," he replied with a responsive smile ; " they are 
 waiting till your husband gives them the order." 
 
 " It's very nice and polite of you to say that ! " exclaimed 
 Felicite, whose e3'e3 were beginning to glisten. 
 
 Marthe turned a beseeching glance upon Mouret. He had 
 gone too far ; but his feelings were roused and he added : 
 
 "Good gracious! What arc we thinking of to be receiving 
 you in the dining-room 1 Let us go into the drawing-room, I 
 beg of you." 
 
 This was one of his usual pleasantries. He affected all 
 Felicite's tine airs when he received a visit from her. It was 
 to no purpose that Marthe protested that they were very com- 
 fortable where they were ; her huslxxnd insisted upon her and 
 her mother following him into the drawing-room. When they got 
 '"there, he bustled about, opening the shutters and drawing out the 
 chairs. The drawing-room, which was seldom entered, and the 
 shutters of which were generally kept closed, was a great wildei'- 
 ness of a room, with its furniture swathed in white dust-covers 
 which were turning yellow from the dampness of the garden. 
 
 " It is really disgraccfid ! " muttered Mouret, wiping the 
 dust from a small console-table ; " that wretched Rose neglects 
 everything abominably." 
 
 Then, tm'ning towards his mother-in law, he said with ill- 
 concealed irony : 
 
 " You will excuse us for receiving you in this way in our 
 poor dwelling. We cannot all be wealthy." 
 
 Felicite was choking with rage. She looked keenly at 
 Mouret for a moment and was on the point of breaking out in 
 a burst of anger; but she made an effort to restrain herself and 
 slowly dropped her eyes ; and when she again raised them she 
 began to speak in soft and pleasant tones. 
 
 " I have just been calling upon ]Madame de Condamin," she 
 said, "and I thought I would look in here and see how you all 
 were. The children are well, I hope, and yun, too, my dear 
 Mouret 1 " 
 
 " Yes, we are all wonderfully well," he replied, quite aston- 
 ished at all this amiability.
 
 THE CONQUE&.T OF PLASSANS. 53 
 
 Tlie old l;tdy gave him no time to import any fresh source 
 of unpleasantness into the conversation, for she immediately 
 began to question Martlie affectionately about all sorts of trifles, 
 and pla3-ed the part of a fond grandmother, scolding INFouret for 
 not sending the dear children to sec her oftenei', for she was 
 always so delighted to have them with licr, she said. 
 
 " Well, here we arc in October again," she remarked care- 
 lessly, after a while, " and I am going to begin having my day 
 again, Thursdays, as in former seasons. I shall count upon 
 seeing you, my dear Marthe, of course ; and you too, Mouret, 
 you will look in occasionally, won't you, and not go on sulking 
 with us for ever % " 
 
 Mouret, who was beginning to grow a little suspicious of all 
 his mother-in-law's affectionate chatter, was at a loss what to 
 reply. This invitation came quite unexpectedly, and there was 
 nothing in it to which he could take exception, so he merely 
 said: 
 
 " You know^ quite well that I can't come to your house ; you 
 receive a lot of people who would be delighted to seize upon an. 
 opportimity of making themselves disagreeable to me. And, 
 besides, I don't want to mix myself up with politics." 
 
 " You are quite mistaken, Mouret, quite mistaken ! " Felicite 
 replied. "My drawing-room is not a club; I would never 
 allows it to become one. All the town knows that I do all I can 
 to make my house as pleasant as possible, and if political 
 matters ever are discussed there, it is only in corners, I can 
 assure you. Ah ! believe me, I had quite enough of politics 
 long ago. What makes you say such a thing 1 " 
 
 "You receive all the Sub-Prefecture set," Mouret said, shortly. 
 
 "The Sub-Prefecture set !" she repeated, "the Sub-Prefecture 
 f:ct ! Certainly I receive those gentlemen. But I don't think that 
 Monsieur Pequeur des Saulaies vvill be found very often in my 
 house -this winter. My husband has told him pretty plainly what 
 lie thought of his conduct in connection with th@f last elections. 
 He has allowed himself to be tricked like a mere nincompoop. 
 But his friends are very pleasant men. Monsieur Delangre 
 and Monsieur de Condamin are extremely amiable persons, and 
 that worthy Paloque is kindness itself, and I'm sure you can 
 have nothing to say against Doctor Poi'quier." 
 
 Mouret shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 "Besides," she continued, with ironic emphasis, "T receive 
 also Monsieur Rastod's circle, the worthy Monsieur Maflro and
 
 54 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 
 
 our clever friend Monsieur de Bourden, the former prefect. So 
 you see we are not at all bigoted or exclusive, and that tlie 
 representatives of all oj^inions find a welcome amongst us. Of 
 course when I am inviting a party of people, I don't ask those to 
 meet each other who would be likely to quarrel. Besides wit and 
 cleverness are welcome in whomsoever they are found, and we 
 pride ourselves iipon having at our gatherings all the most dis- 
 tinguished persons in Plassans. My drawing-room is neutral 
 ground, remember that, Mouret ; yes, neutral ground, that is 
 the right expression." 
 
 She had grown quite animated by talking. Her drawing-room 
 was her great glory, and it was her desire to reign there, not as 
 a chief of a party, but as a queen of society. It is true that 
 her friends said tliat she was adopting conciliatory tactics merely 
 in conformity Avith the advice of her sow Eugene, the minister, 
 who had charged her to personify at Plassans the gentleness 
 and amiability of the Empire. 
 
 " You ma}^ say what you like," Mouret growled, ''but that 
 MafFre of yours is a bigot, and your Bourdeu is a fool, and 
 most of all the others are a set of rascals. That's my opinion 
 about them. I am much obliged to you for your invitation, 
 but it would disturb my habits too much to accept it. I like 
 to go to bed in good time, and I prefer stopping at home." 
 
 Felicite rose from her seat, and turning her back wpon 
 Mouret, she said to her daughter : 
 
 " Well, at any rate I may expect you, mayn't I, my dear?" 
 
 " Of course you may," replied Marthe, who wished to soften 
 down her husband's blunt refusal. 
 
 The old lady was just going to leave, when a thought seemed 
 to strike her, and she asked if she might kiss Desiree, whom 
 she had seen playing in the garden. She would not let them 
 call the girl into the house, but insisted on going out herself on 
 to the terrace, which was still quite damp from a slight shower 
 which had fallen in the morning. When she found Desiree, she 
 was profuse in her fondling caresses of the girl, who seemed 
 rather frightened of her. Then she raised her head as if by 
 chance and looked at the cui'tains in the windows of the second- 
 floor. 
 
 " Ah ! you have let the rooms, then 1 Oh, yes ! I remember 
 now ; to a priest, isn't it 1 I've heard it spoken of. What sort 
 of a person is he, this priest of yours ? " 
 
 Mouret looked at her keenly. A sudden suspicion flashed
 
 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 55 
 
 througli his mind^ and he began to cucss that it was entirely on 
 account of the Abbe Faujas that his mother-in-law had favoured 
 them with this visit. 
 
 " Upon my word," he replied, without taking his eyes off her, 
 " I really know nothing about him. But perhaps you are 
 able to give me some information concerning him'?" 
 
 " I ! " she cried, with an appearance of great surprise. 
 "Why, I've never even seen him ! Stay, though, I know he is 
 one of the curates at Saint-Saturnin ; Fatlier Bourrette told 
 me that. By the way, that reminds me that I ought to ask 
 him to my Thursdays. The director of the seminary and the 
 bishop's secretary are already amongst my circle of visitors." 
 
 Then, turning to Marthe, she added : 
 
 " When you see your lodger you might sound him, so as to 
 ])e able to tell me whether an invitation from me would be ac- 
 ceptable." 
 
 " We scarcely ever see him," Mouret hastily interposed. " He 
 comes in and goes out without ever opening his mouth. And, 
 besides, it is really no business of oiu's." 
 
 He still kept his eyes fixed suspiciously upon her. He felt 
 quite sure that she knew much more about the Abbe Faujas 
 than she was willing to admit, but she did not quail beneath 
 her son-in law's searching gaze. 
 
 " Very well, it's all the same to me," she said, with an ap- 
 pearance of the most perfect unconcern. " I shall be able to 
 find out some other way of inviting him, if he's the right sort 
 of person, Fve no doubt. Good-bye, my children." 
 
 As she was mounting the steps again, a tall old man appeared 
 at the entrance of the house. He wore a gi-eat-coat and a pair 
 of very neat blue cloth trousers, and a fur cap pressed down 
 over his eyes. In his hand he carried a whip. 
 
 " Hallo ! there's uncle INIacquart ! " cried Mouret, casting a 
 curious glance at his mother-in-law. 
 
 An expression of extreme annoyance passed over Felicitc's 
 face. Macquart, Rougon's illegitimate brother, had, by the 
 latter's aid, returned to France after having compromised him- 
 self in the rising of 1851. Since his return from Piedmont he 
 had been leading the life of a sleek and Avell-to-do citizen. He 
 had bought, though where the money had come from no one 
 knew, a small house in the village of Les Tulcttes, about three 
 leagues from Plassans. He had fitted up his establishment by 
 degrees, and he had now even become possessed of a gig and a
 
 no THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 
 
 liorsc, and was constantly to bo met on tlicliigh-rofids, smoking 
 his pipe and enjoying the sunshine, an'l sniggering hke a tamed 
 wolf. Rougon's enemies whispered that the two brotlicrs had 
 been guilty of some black business, and that Pierre Ilougon 
 was keeping Antoine Macquart. 
 
 " Good day, uncle ! " said Mouret affectedly ; " have you 
 come to pay tis a little visit 1 " 
 
 "Yes, indeed," Macquart replied, in tones as guileless as a 
 
 child's. " You know that whenever I come to Plassans 
 
 Hallo, Felicite ! I didn't expect to -find you here ! I came 
 over to see Rougon. There was something I wanted to talk to 
 him about." 
 
 "He was at home, wasn't he'?" she exclaimed, with uneasy haste. 
 
 "Yes, he was at liome," uncle Macquart replied, tranquillj-. 
 " I saw liim, and we had a talk together. Ho is a good fellow, 
 is Rougon." 
 
 He laughed slightly, and while Felicite continued quite rest- 
 less and fidgety from anxiety, he went on talking in his drawl- 
 ing voice that was so strangely inflected as to make him seem 
 constantly laughing at those whom he was addressing. 
 
 " Mouret, my boy, I have brouglit you a couple of rabbits. 
 They are in a basket over there. I have given them to Rose. 
 I brought another couple with me for Rougon. You will find 
 them at liome, Felicite, and you must tell me how they turn 
 out. They are beautifully plump; I fattened tliem up for you. 
 Ail, my dears! it pleases mo very much to be able to make these 
 little presents." 
 
 Felicite had turned quite pale, and pressed her lips tightly 
 together as J»louret continued to look at her with a quiet smile. 
 She would have been very glad to get away if she had not boon 
 afraid of Macquart beginning to gossip as soon as her back was 
 turned. 
 
 " Thank you, uncle," said ]\Iouret. " The plums that you 
 brought us the last time you came we;-e very good. Won't you 
 have something to drink 1" 
 
 " Well, that's an offer I reallv can't refuse." 
 
 When Ptose brought him out a glass of wine, he sat down on 
 the balustvade and slowly sipped at the glass, smacking his 
 toiigue and holding up tlie wine to the light. 
 
 " This comes from the district of Saint-Eutrope," ho said. 
 " F'm not to be deceived in matters of this kind. I know tlic 
 different districts thoroughlj-."
 
 THE CONQUEST OF TLASSAXS. W 
 
 He wapgcd his bead niid sniggered. 
 
 Then Mouret, with an intonation that was full of meaning, 
 suddenly asked him : 
 
 "And how are they getting on at Les Tulettes?" 
 
 Macquart raised his eyes and looked at them all. Then giv- 
 ing a final clack of his tongue and putting down the glass upon 
 the stone by his side, he said, quite unconcernedly : 
 
 " Oh ! very well. I heard of her the day before yesterday. 
 She is still just about the same." 
 
 Felicite had turned away her head and no one spoke. Mouret 
 had just put his finger iipon one of the family's sore places by 
 alluding to the mother of Rongon and Macquart, who liad been 
 shut up as a mad woman for several years past in the asylum 
 at Les Tulcttes. Macquart's little property was near the mad- 
 house, and it looked as though Rougon had posted the old 
 scamp there to keep watch over their mother. 
 
 " It is getting late," Macquart said at last, rising from 
 his seat on the balustrade, " and I want to get back again be- 
 fore night. I shall expect to see you over at my house one of 
 these days, ]\Iouret, my boy. You have promised me several 
 times to come, you know." 
 
 " Oh, yes ! I'll come, uncle, I'll come." 
 
 " Ah ! but that isn't enough. I w\ant you all to come ; all 
 of yon, do you hear? I am very dull oiit there all by myself. 
 I will give you some dinner." 
 
 Then, turning to Felicite, he added: 
 
 " Tell Rougon that I shall expect him and you, too. You 
 needn't be prevented from coming because the old mother 
 happens to be near there. She is going on very well, I tell you, 
 and is properly looked after. You may safely trust yourselves 
 to me, and I will give you some wine that I picked up in La 
 Scille, a light wine that will Avarm you i;p famously." 
 
 He began to walk tow;irds the gate as he spoke. • Felicite 
 followed him so closely that she almost seemed to be pushing 
 him out of the garden. They all accompanied him to the 
 street. As he was mitethering his horse, which he had 
 fastened by the reins to one of the shutters, the Abbe Fanjas, 
 who wa'i just returning home, passed the group with a slight 
 bow. He glided on as noiselessly as a black shadow. Felicite 
 turned round sharply and followed him with lier eyes till he 
 reached the staircase, but she had not time to catch sight of 
 his face. Macquart shook his head in utter surprise as he said ,
 
 58 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 
 
 " Wliat ! my boy, have you really got priests lodging with 
 you now 1 Tliat man has got a very strange eye. Take care ! 
 take care ! cassocks bring ill luck with them ! " 
 
 He took liis seat in his gig and clucked his horse on and 
 went down the Rue Balande at a gentle trot. His round 
 back and fur cap disappeared past the corner of the Rne Tara- 
 velle. As Mouret turned round again, he heard his mother-in- 
 law speaking to Marthe. 
 
 " I would rather you did it," she was saying ; " the invitation 
 would seem less formal. I should be very glad if you could 
 find some opportunity of speaking to him." 
 
 She checked herself when she saw that she was overheard. 
 Then, after having kissed Desiree effusively, she went away 
 giving a last look to be quite sure that Macquart was not re- 
 turning to gossip about her after her departure. 
 
 " I forbid you, you know, to mix yourself up in any way in 
 your mother's affairs," Mouret said to his wife as they returned 
 into the house. "She has always got some business or other 
 on hand that no one caii understand. What in the world can 
 she want with the Abbe? She wouldn't invite liim for his own 
 sake, I'm sure ; and she must have got some secret reason for 
 doing so. That priest hasn't come from Besan^on to Plassans 
 for nothing. There is some mystery or other at the bottom 
 of it." 
 
 Marthe had set to work again at the everlasting repairs of 
 the family-linen which kept her busy for days together. Her 
 husband went on speaking again. 
 
 " That old Macquart and your mother amuse me very much. 
 How they hate each other ! Did you notice how angry she was 
 when she saw him come 1 She seems as though she was in a 
 perpetual state of fear lest he should make some unpleasant 
 I'evelation — But the3''ll never catch me in his house. I've 
 sworn to keep myself clear of all this business. My father was 
 quite right when he said that my mother's family, these Rougons 
 and Macquarts, were not worth a rope to hang them with. 
 They ai'e my relations as well as yours, so you needn't feel 
 hurt at what I am saying. I say it because it is true. They 
 are wealthy people now, but their money hasn't made them any 
 better, but rather the contrary." 
 
 Then he set off to take a turn in the Cours Sauvaire, where 
 he met his friends and talked to them about the weather and 
 the crojjs and the events of the previous da3\ An extensive
 
 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 59 
 
 transaction in almonds, which he undertook the following day, 
 kept liim constantly occupied for more tlian a week and made 
 liim almost forget"^ all about the Abbe Faujas. He was be- 
 ginning, besides, to get a little weary of the Abbe, who did not 
 talk enough and was too secretive. On two separate occasions 
 he purposely avoided him, imagining thattlie priest only wanted 
 to see him that he might get out of him the histories of the 
 remainder of the Sub-Prefecture circle and Monsieur Rastoil's 
 friends. Rose had informed him that Madame Faujas had been 
 trying to get her to talk, and this had induced him to vow that 
 he would keep his lips closed for the future. This formed another 
 amusement for his unoccupied hours, and now, as he looked up 
 at the closely drawn curtains of the second-floor windows, he 
 muttered : 
 
 " All right, my good fellow ! Hide yourself as much as you 
 like ! I know very well that you're watching me from behind 
 those curtains, but you won't be much the wiser for your 
 trouble, and you'll find yourself much mistaken if you expect 
 to get any more information out of me about our neighbours 1" 
 
 He derived great pleasure from the thought that the Abbe 
 Faujas was watching him, and he took every precaution to 
 avoid falling into any trap that might be laid for him. One 
 evening as he was coming home he saw the Abbe Bourrette and 
 the Abbe Faujas standing before Monsieur Rastoil's gate. He 
 concealed himself behind the corner of a house and watched 
 them. The two priests kept him waiting there for more than a 
 quarter of an hour. They talked with great animation, parted 
 for a moment and then joined each other again and resumed 
 their conversation. Mouret thought that he could detect that 
 the Abbe Bourrette was trying to persuade the Abbe Faujas to 
 accompany him to the president's. The latter was making 
 excuses for not going, and ended by refusing with some show of 
 impatience. It was a Tuesday, the day of the weekly dinner. 
 At last Bourrette entered Monsieur Rastoil's house, and Faujas 
 went off in his quiet undemonstrative fashion to his own rooms. 
 Mouret stood for a while thinking. What could be the Abbe 
 Faujas's reason for refusing to go to Monsieur Rastoil's. AH 
 the clergy of Saint-Saturn in's dined there, the Abbe Fenil, the 
 Abb6 Surin and all the others. There was not a single 
 priest in Plassans who had not enjoyed the fresh air by the 
 fountain in the gai'den there. This new curate's refusal to go 
 seemed a very extraordinary thing.
 
 60 THE CONQUEST OF TLASSANS. 
 
 When Moiiret got home ngaiu, he hurried off to the bottom 
 of the garden to reconnoitre the second-floor windows. At the 
 end of a moment or two he saw the curtain of the second 
 window move to the right. He felt quite sure that the Abbe 
 Faujas was behind it spying out what was going on at IMonsieur 
 Rastoil's. Then Moiu'et thought that he could discover by 
 certain movements of the curtain that tlie Abbe was in turn 
 inspecting the gardens of the Sub-Prefecture. 
 
 The next day, a Wednesday, Rose told him as he was going 
 out that the Abbe Bourrette had been with the second-floor 
 people for at least an hour. Upon this he went back into the 
 house and beoran to rummage about in the dining-room. When 
 Marthe asked him what he was looking for, he replied sharply 
 that he was trying to find a paper without which he could not 
 go out. Then he went upstairs to see if he had left it there. 
 After waiting for a long time behind his bedroom door, he 
 thought he could distinguish a moving of chairs on the second 
 floor, and then he went slowly downstaii's, stopping for a 
 moment or two in the lobby to give the Abbe Bourrette time 
 to catch him up. 
 
 " Ah ! is that you, 3'our reverence ] This is a fortunate 
 meeting ! You are going to Saint-Saturnin's, I suppose, and I 
 am going that way too. We will keep eacli other company, if 
 you have no objection." 
 
 The Abbe Bourrette replied that he would be delighted, and 
 then they both walked slowly up the Rue Balande towards the 
 Place of the Sub-Prefecture. The Abbe was a stout man, with 
 an honest, open face, and great, child-like blue eyes. His wide 
 silk girdle that was drawn tightly round him threw into relief 
 a sleek and round stomach. His arms were unduly short and 
 his legs were heavy and clumsy, and he Avalked witii his head 
 thrown slightlv back. 
 
 " So you've just been to see our good Monsieur Faujas ? " said 
 Mouret, going to the point at once. " I must really thank you 
 for having procured me such a lodger as is rarely to be found." 
 
 "' Yes, yes," said the priest, " he is a very good and worthy 
 
 man." 
 
 " He never makes the least noise, and we couldn't really tell 
 that there was anyone in the house. And he is so polite and 
 courteous, too. I've heard it said, do you kn av, that he is a 
 man of unusual attainments, and that he has been sent here as 
 a sort of compliment to the diocese."
 
 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSAN3. Gl 
 
 They had now reached the mitldle of the I'hice of the Sub- 
 Prefecture. Mouret stopped short and looked at the Abbe 
 Bourrette keenly. 
 
 "Ah, indeed!" the priest merely replied, with an air of 
 astonishment. 
 
 "So I've been told. The bishop, I suppose, intends to do some- 
 thinu' for him later on. In the meantime, the new curate has to 
 keep himself in the background for fear of exciting jealousies." 
 
 The Abbe Bourrette resumed walking again and turned round 
 the corner of the Rue de la Banne. 
 
 " You suri)rise me very much," he said, quietly. " Fanjas 
 is a very unassuming man ; he is really far too humble. For 
 instance, at the church he has taken upon himself the little, 
 simple duties vsdiich are generally left to the ordinary staff. 
 He is a saint, but he is not very sharp or shrewd. I scarcely 
 ever see him at the bishojj's, and he has always been very cold 
 and distant with the Abbe 'Fenil, though I have strongly 
 impressed it upon him that it is necessary to be on good terms 
 with the Abbe if he wants to be -well received at the bishop's. 
 But he didn't seem to see it, and I'm afraid that he's deficient 
 in judgment. He shows the same failing, by the way, in his 
 continual visits to the Abbe Compan, who has been confined 
 to his bed for the last fortnight, and whom I'm afraid we are 
 going to lose. The Abbe Faujas's visits are most ill-advised, 
 and will do him a great deal of harm. Compan has always 
 been antagonistic to Fenil, and it's only a stranger fi'om 
 Besancon who could be ignorant of a fact that is well known to 
 the whole diocese." 
 
 He was growing warm with his subject, and he stopped 
 short as they reached tlie Hue Canquoin and stood in front of 
 i^Iourct. 
 
 "No, no, my dear sir," he said, " you have been misinformed: 
 Faujas is as simple as a new-born babe. I'm not an ambitious 
 man myself, and God knows how fond I am of Compan, who 
 has a heart of gold, but, all the same, I keep my visits to him 
 private. He said to me himself : ' Bourrette, my old friend, 
 I am not mucli longer for this world. If you want to succeed 
 me, don't be seen too often knocking at my door. Come after 
 dark and knock tlirec times, and my sister will let you in.' So 
 now, you understand, i wait till night before I go and see him. 
 One has quite plenty of ti-oubles as it is without incurring un- 
 necessary ones for ouo's self ! "
 
 62 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 
 
 His voice quavered, and he clas])cd liis hands across his 
 stomach as he resumed his walls, moved by a naive egotism 
 whicli made him commiserate himself, Avhile he murmured : 
 
 " Poor Compan ! poor Compau ! " 
 
 Mouret was feeling quite perplexed. All his theories about 
 the Abbe Faujas were being altogetlier upset. 
 
 "I had such very precise details furnished to me," he ven- 
 tiu'ed again to insist. " I was told that he was to be promoted 
 to some important office." 
 
 "Oh dear, no ! " cried the priest. " I can assure you that 
 there is no truth in anything of the kind. Faujas has no 
 expectations of any sort. I'll tell you something that proves 
 it. You know that I dine at the president's every Tuesday. 
 Well, last week he particularly asked me to bring Faujas with 
 me. He wanted to see him, and find out what sort of a person 
 he was, I suppose. Now, you would scarcely guess what 
 Faujas did. He refused the invitation, my dear sir, bluntly re- 
 fused it. It was all to no purpose that I told him he would 
 make existence in Plassans quite intolerable to himself, and 
 that he would certainly embroil himself with Fenil by acting so 
 rudely to Monsieur Rastoil; he persisted in having his own way, 
 and wouldn't be persuaded by anything that I said. I believe 
 that he even exclaimed, in a moment of anger, that he wasn't 
 reduced to accepting dinners of that kind." 
 
 The Abbe Bourrette began to smile. They had now reached 
 Saint-Saturnin's and he detained Mouret for a moment by the 
 little gate of the church. 
 
 "He is a child, a great child," he continued. "I ask you, now, 
 could a dinner at Monsieur Rastoil's possibly compromise him 
 in any way 1 When your mother-in-law, that good Madame 
 Rougon, entrusted me yesterday with an invitation for Faujas, 
 I did not conceal from her my fear that it would be badly re- 
 ceived." 
 
 ]\Iouret pricked up his ears. 
 
 " Ah ! my mother-in-law gave you an invitation for him, did 
 she ^ " 
 
 " Yes, she came into the vestry yesterday. As I make a 
 point of doing what I can to oblige her, I promised her that I 
 would go and see the confounded man this morning. I felt 
 quite certain, however, that he would refuse." 
 
 "And did he?" 
 
 " No, indeed ; much to my surprise he accepted."
 
 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 63 
 
 Mourct opened his lips and then closed them again without 
 speaking. The priest winked his eyes with an appearance of ex- 
 treme satisfaction. 
 
 "I had to manage the matter very skilfull3\ For more than 
 an hour I was explaining to him your mother-in-law's position. 
 He kept shaking his head and could not make up his mind to 
 go and dwelt upon his desire for privacy. I had exhausted my 
 stock of arguments when I called to mind one of the instruc- 
 tions which the dear lady gave me. She had told me to say 
 that her drawing-room was entirely neutral ground, and that 
 that was a fact well known to all the town. "When 1 pressed 
 this upon his notice he seemed to waver and at last he con- 
 sented to accept the invitation, and he has promised to go to- 
 morrow. I am going to send a few lines to that excellent 
 Madame Rougon to inform her of oixr success." 
 
 He lingered for a moment longer, rolling his great blue eyes, 
 and said more to himself than to Mouret : 
 
 "^Monsieur Rastoil will be very much vexed, but it's no fault 
 of mine." 
 
 Then he added : 
 
 " Good morning, dear Monsieur Mouret ; remember me very 
 kindly to all your family " 
 
 He went into the church and let the muffled double doors 
 close softly behind him. Mouret gazed at them and slightly 
 shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 "There's a fine old chatter-box!" he muttered; "one of 
 those men who never give you a chance of getting in a word, 
 and who go on chattering away for hours without ever telling 
 you anything worth listening to. So Faujas is going to black 
 Fclicite's to-morrow ! It's really very provoking that 1 am 
 not on good terms with that fool Rougon ! " 
 
 All tlie afternoon he was occupied with business matters, but 
 at night, just as they were going to bed, he said carelessly to 
 his wife : 
 
 " Ai'c you going to your mother's to-morrow evening 1 " 
 
 " No, not to-morrow," Marthe rcijlied, " I have too many 
 things to do. But I daresay I shall go next week." 
 
 He made no immediate reply, but just before he blew out 
 the candle, he said : 
 
 " You are wrong not to go out oftener tlian you do. (Jo to 
 your mother's tomorrow evening ; it will enliven yuu a little. 
 1 will stay at liomc and look lifter the children."
 
 G4 THE CONtiUE.ST OF TLASSANS. 
 
 Marthe looked at him in astonislimcTit. lie generally kept 
 her at home with him, requiring all kind.-j of little services 
 from her, and grumbling if she went out even for an hour. 
 
 " Very well," slie replied, " I will go if you wish me to." 
 
 Then he blew out the candle and laid his head upon the 
 pillow, as he said to his wife : 
 
 "That's right; and you can tell us all about it when you 
 come back. It will amuse the children."
 
 65 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 About nine o'clock on the following evening, the Abbe Bonr- 
 rette came for the Abbe Fanjas. He had promised to go with 
 him to the Rougons' and introduce him. He found him stand- 
 ing in the middle of his great bare room quite ready to start, 
 and putting on a pair of black gloves that were sadly whitened 
 at the finger-tips. He could not suppress a slight grimace as 
 he looked at him. 
 
 " Haven't you got another cassock 1 " he asked. 
 
 " No," replied the Abbe Faujas, very tranquilly. " This one 
 is still very decent, I think." 
 
 "Oh, certainly! certainly!" stammered the old priest; "but 
 it's very cold outside. Hadn't you better put something round 
 your shoulders 1 Well ! well ! come along then ! " 
 
 The nights had just commenced to be frosty. The Abbe 
 Bourrette, who was warmly wrapped up in a padded silk cloak, 
 got quite out of breath as he panted along after the Abbe Fau- 
 jas, who wore nothing over his shoulders except his thin and 
 threadbare cassock. They stopped at the intersection of the 
 Rue de la Banne with the Place of the Sub-Prefecture, in 
 front of a house built entirely of white stone, one of the hand- 
 some mansions of the new part of the town, with carved rose- 
 work on each floor. A servant in blue livery received them at 
 the door and ushered them into the hall. He smiled at the 
 Abbe Bourrette as he helped him to take off his wrapper, and 
 Beemed greatly surprised at the appearance of the other Abbe, 
 tall, rough-hewn man as he was, who had ventured out on such 
 a freezing night without a cloak. The drawing-room was on 
 the first floor. 
 
 The Al)b6 Faujas entered it with head erect, and grave, 
 though perfectly easy, demeanour, while the Abbe Bourrette, 
 who was always very nervous when he went to the Rougons' 
 house, although he never missed a single one of their receptions, 
 deserted his companion and made his escape into an adjoining 
 
 E
 
 G6 THE CONQUEST OF TLASSANS. 
 
 room. The Abbe Faujas made liis way slowly up the whole 
 length of the drawing-room to pay his respects to the mistress 
 of the house, whom he felt sure he could recognise in the 
 middle of a group of five or six ladies. IJe was obliged to in- 
 troduce himself, and he did it in two or three words. Felicite 
 had immediately risen from her seat, and she narrowly scanned 
 him from head to foot with a hasty glance, and then her eyes 
 sought his own with her polecat gaze, as she smilingly said: 
 
 " I am delighted, your reverence ; I am delighted indeed." 
 
 The priest's passage tlu'ough the drawing-room had created 
 a considerable sensation. One young lady, indeed, who had 
 suddenly raised her head, had quite trembled with alarm as 
 she caught sight of this great black mass in front of her. The 
 impression created by the Abbe was an unfavourable one. He 
 was too tall, too square-shouldered, and his face was too hard 
 and his hands too big. His cassock looked so frightfully 
 shabby beneath the bright light of the chandelier that the 
 ladies felt a kind of shame at seeing an Abbe so shockingly 
 dressed. They spread out their fans, and began to giggle be- 
 hind them, and pretended to be quite unconscious of the Abbe's 
 presence. The men exchanged very significant glances. 
 
 Felicite saw what a very churlish welcome the priest was re- 
 ceiving ; she seemed annoyed at it, and remained standing in 
 the middle of the room and raised her voice to force her guests 
 into hearing the compliments which she addressed to the Abbe. 
 
 " Tlia-t dear Bourrette," she said in her most winning tones, 
 " has told me what difficulty he had in persuading you to come. 
 I am really quite cross with you, sii\ You have no right to 
 deprive so&iety of the pleasure of your company." 
 
 The priest bowed without making any reply, and the old lady 
 laughed as she began to speak again, laying a meaning emphasis 
 on certain of her words. 
 
 " I know more about you than you imagine, in spite of all 
 the care 3'ou have taken to hide your light under a bushel. I 
 have been told about you ; you are a very holy man, and I want 
 to be your friend. We shall have an opportunity to talk about 
 this by-and-by, for I hope that you will now consider yourself 
 as one of our circle." 
 
 The Abbe Faujas looked at her keenly as though he had 
 recognised some masonic sign in the way in which she mani- 
 pulated her fan. He lowered his voice as he replied to her : 
 
 " Madame, I am entirely at .your service."
 
 THE CONQUEST OF TLASSANS. 67 
 
 " I am delighted to hear you say so," said Madame Roiigon 
 with another laugh. " You will find that we do our best here 
 to make every one happy. But come with me and let me pre- 
 sent you to my husband." 
 
 She crossed the room, disturbing several of her guests in her 
 progress to open out a way for the Abbe Faujas, and giving him 
 an importance which completed the general prejudice against 
 him. In the adjoining room card-tables were set out. She 
 went straight up to herhusliand, who was gravely playing whist. 
 He seemed slightly impatient as she stooped down to whisper 
 in his ear, but the few words she said to him caused him to 
 spring lip briskly from his scat. 
 
 " Capital ! capital ! " he murmured. 
 
 Then, having first apologized to those with whom he was 
 playing, he went and shook hands with the Abbe Faujas. 
 
 At that time Rougon was a stout, pale man of seventy years 
 of age, and he had acquired all a millionaire's gravity of 
 expression. He was generally considered by the Plassans people 
 to have a fine head, the white, uncommunicative head of a man 
 of political importance. After he had exchanged a few courte- 
 sies with the priest he resumed his seat at the card-table. 
 Felicite had just gone back into the drawing-room, her face 
 still wreathed with smiles. 
 
 When the Abbe Faujas at last found himself left alone he 
 manifested not the slightest sign of embarrassment. He re- 
 mained standing for a moment watching the whist-players, or 
 appearing to do so, for he was, in reality, examining the curtains 
 and carpet and furniture. It was a small wainscotted room, with 
 three book-cases of dark pear-tree wood, ornamented with a brass 
 beading, occupying three of its sides. It looked like a magistrate's 
 private room. The priest, who was apparently desirous of making 
 a complete inspection, now returned into the drawing-room. It 
 was hung with green, and was as sober as the smaller room, 
 but there was more gilding about it, audit combined the soberness 
 of a minister's room with the showy brightness of a great restau- 
 i-ant. On the other side of it there was a sort of boudoir where 
 Felicite received her friends during the day. It was hung in 
 straw-colour, and was so encumbered with easy-chairs and otto- 
 mans and couches, covered w*h a pattern of violet flower-work, 
 that there was scarcely any room left to move about in. 
 
 The Abbo Faujas took a seat near the fire-place and affected 
 to be warming his feet. He had placed himself in such a
 
 68 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 
 
 position tliat he could command through tlie widely opened 
 door the greater part of the large drawing-room. He was re- 
 flecting upon Madame Rougon's gracious reception of him, and 
 he half closed his eyes as though he were thinking out some 
 problem whose solution escaped him. A moment or two after- 
 wai'ds, while he was still absorbed in his reverie, he heard a 
 voice behind him. His large-backed easy-chair quite concealed 
 him from sight, and he now closed his eyes still more than be- 
 fore. He sat listening, and he looked as though the warmth of 
 the fire had sent him to sleep. 
 
 " I went to their house just once at that time," an unctuous 
 voice was saying. " They were then living opposite, on the 
 other side of the Rue de la Banne. You were at Paris then ; 
 all Plassans at that period knew of the Rougons' yellow 
 drawing-room : a wretched room hung with lemon-coloured 
 paper at fifteen sous the piece, with rickety furniture covered 
 with cheap velvet. Look at black Felicite now, dressed in 
 plum-coloured satin and seated on yonder couch ! Do you 
 see how she is reaching out her hand to little Delangre 1 
 Upon my word, she is giving it to him to kiss ! " 
 
 Then a younger voice said with something of a sneer : 
 
 " They must have managed to lay their hands on a pretty 
 big share of plunder to be able to have such a beautiful 
 drawing-room ; it is the handsomest, you know, in the whole 
 town." 
 
 "The lady," the other voice resumed, "has always had a 
 passion for receptions. When she hadn't a sou she drank water 
 herself tliat she might be able to provide lemonade for her 
 guests. Oh ! I know all about these Rougons. I have watched 
 their whole career. They are very clever people, and the Coup- 
 d'Etat has enabled them to satisfy the dreams of luxury and 
 pleasure which have been tormenting them for the last forty 
 years ; and now you see what a magnificent style they are 
 keeping up and in what a lavish way they are living ! This 
 house which they are now occupying formerly belonged to a 
 Monsieur Peirotte, one of the receivers of taxes, who was killed 
 in the affair at Sainte-Roure in the insuiTection of '51. Upon 
 my word, they've had the most extraordinary luck : a stray 
 ball removed the man who was standing in their way, and they 
 Btepped into his place and house. If it had been a choice be- 
 tween the receivership and the house, Felicite would certainly 
 have chosen the house. She had been hankering after it for
 
 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 69 
 
 half a score years nearly, with as keen a longing as a preg- 
 nant woman's, and she made herself quite ill by covetously 
 gazing upon the magnificent curtains that hung in the window. 
 It was her Tuileries, as the Plassans people used to say, aftei 
 the 'ind of December." 
 
 " But where did they get the money to buy this house ? " 
 
 " Ah ! no one knows that, my dear fellow. Their son Eugene, 
 who has had such an amazing political success in Paris, and has 
 become a deputy minister and confidential adviser at the 
 Tuileries, had no difl&culty in obtaining the receivership and the 
 cross for his father, who had played his cards very cleverly here. 
 As for the house, it was probably paid for by the help of ad- 
 vances. They borrowed the money, I suppose, from some 
 banker. Anyhow, they are wealthy people to-day and they are 
 making up for lost time. I fancy their son keeps up a constant 
 con-espondence with them, for they have not made a single false 
 step." 
 
 The voice was silent again, but only to recommence almost 
 directly with a suppressed laugh. 
 
 "Ah ! I really can't help laughing when I see that precious 
 grasshopper of a Felicite putting on all her fine duchess's airs ! 
 I always think of the old yellow drawing-room with its thread- 
 bare cai-pet and shabby furniture and the little fly-specked 
 chandelier. And now, to-day, she receives the Rastoil young 
 ladies. Just look how she is manoeuvring the train of her 
 dress ! Some day, my dear fellow, that old woman will burst 
 out of sheer triumph in the middle of her green drawing- 
 room ! " 
 
 The Abbe Faujas had quietly slipped his head on one side 
 that he might be able to see what was going on in the drawing- 
 room. There he observed Madame Rougon standing in all her 
 majesty in the centre of a surrounding group of guests. She 
 seemed to have increased in stature, and every back around 
 bent before her glance, that was like that of some victorious 
 queen. 
 
 " Ah ! here's your father ! " said the unctuous voice ; " the 
 good doctor is just arriving. I'm quite surprised he has never 
 told you of all these matters. He knows far more about 
 them than I do." 
 
 " Oh ! my father is always afraid lest I should compromise 
 him," replied the other gaily. " You know how he rails at me 
 and swears that I shall make him lose all his patients. Ah !
 
 70 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 
 
 excuse me, please ; I see the 3'ouug Maft'res over tliere, I must 
 go and shake hands with them." 
 
 There was a sound of chairs being moved, and the Abbe 
 Faujas saw a tall young man, whose face already bore signs of 
 weariness, cross the small room. The other person, he who had 
 given such a lively accoimt of the Rougons, also rose from his 
 seat. A lady who happened to be passing near him allowed 
 him to i)ay her some pretty compliments ; and she smiled at him 
 and called him " dear Monsieur de Condamin." Then the 
 priest recognised him as the fine man of sixty whom Mouret had 
 pointed out to him in the garden of the Sub-Prefecture. Mon- 
 sieur de Condamin came and sat down on the other side of the 
 fire-place. He was startled to see the Abbe Faujas, who had been 
 quite concealed by the back of his chair, but he appeared in no 
 way disconcerted, and he smiled and began to talk with easy 
 pleasantness. 
 
 " I think, your I'everence," he began, "that we have just 
 been unintentionally confessing ourselves. It's a great sin, 
 isn't it, to back-bite one's neighbour 1 Fortunately you were 
 there to give us absolution." 
 
 The Abbe, in spite of the control he had over his features, 
 could not hide a slight blush. He perfectly understood that 
 Monsieur de Coudamin was reproaching him for having kept 
 himself so perfectly quiet to listen to what was being said. 
 Monsieu^r de Condamin, however, was not a man to preserve 
 a grudge against any one for their curiosity, but quite 
 the contrary. He was delighted at the complicity which 
 the matter seemed to have established between himself and the 
 Abbe. It put him at liberty to talk freely and to while away 
 the evening in relating the scandalous history of the persons 
 present. There was nothing he enjoyed so much, and this 
 Abbe, who had only recently arrived at Plassans, seemed likely 
 to prove a good listener, the more especially as he had an ugly 
 face, the face of a man who would listen to anything, and wore 
 such a shabby cassock that it was out of question that any con- 
 fidence to wdiich he might be treated should lead to unpleasant- 
 ness. 
 
 By the end of quarter of an hour Monsieur de Condamin 
 was quite at his ease. He was giving the Abbe Faujas 
 a detailed account of Plassans with all the suave politeness of 
 the easy man of the world. 
 
 "Your reverence is a stranger amongst us," he said, " and I
 
 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 71 
 
 shall be delighted if I can be of any assistance to you. Plassans 
 is a little hole of a place, but one gets reconciled to it in time. 
 I myself come from the neighbourhood of Dijon, and when I 
 was appointed conservator of woods and rivers in this district, 
 I found the place detestable, and thought I should be bored to 
 death here. That was just before the Empire. After '51, the 
 provinces were by no means cheerful places to live in, I can 
 assure you. In this department the folks were alarmed if they 
 heard a dog bark, and they were ready to sink into the ground 
 at the sight of a gendarme. But they calmed down by degrees, 
 and resumed their old, monotonous, uneventful existence, and in 
 the end I got quite resigned to my life here. I live chiefly in 
 the open air, I take long rides on horseback, and I have made 
 a few pleasant friendships." 
 
 He lowered his voice, and continued in confidential tones : 
 " If you will take my advice, your reverence, you will be 
 careful what you do. You can't imagine what a scrape I was 
 once nearly falling into. Plassans, you know, is divided into 
 thi-ee absolutely distinct divisions ; the old district, where your 
 duties will be confined to administering consolation and alms ; 
 the district of Saint-Marc, where our aristocrats live, a district 
 that is full of tediousness and ill-feeling, and where you can't 
 be too much iipon your guard ; and, lastly, the new town, the 
 district that is now springing up round the Sub-Prefecture, 
 which is the only one where it is possible to live with any 
 degree of comfort. x\t first I was foolish enough to take up my 
 quarters in the -Saint-Marc district, where I thought that my 
 position required me to reside. There, alack ! I found myself 
 surrounded by a lot of withered old dowagers and mummified 
 marquises. There wasn't an atom of sociability, not a scrap of 
 gaiety, nothing but a sulky mutiny against the prosperous peace 
 that the country was enjoying. I only just missed compromis- 
 ing myself, upon my word, I did. Pequeur used to chaff me, 
 Monsieur Pequeur des Saulaies, our sub-prefect ; you know him, 
 don't you? Well, then I moved into the Cours Sauvaire, and 
 I took rooms on the Place. At Plassans, you must know, the 
 people have no existence, and the aristocracy ai'C a dreadful lot 
 that it's quite impossible to get on with ; the only tolerable 
 people are a few parvemis, quite delightful ])ersons who arc 
 ready to incur any expense in entertaining their official acquaint- 
 ances. Our little circle of functionaries is a very delightfid 
 one. We live amongst ourselves after our own inclinations,
 
 ?2 O^HE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 
 
 without caring a rap about the townspeople, just as if we had 
 pitched our camp in some conquered country." 
 
 He laughed complaisantly and stretched himself further back 
 in his chair, and turned up his feet to the fire ; then he took 
 a glass of punch from the tray which one of the servants handed 
 to him, and sipped it slowly while he continued to watch the 
 Abbe Faujas out of the corner of his eye. The latter felt that 
 politeness required him to say something. 
 
 " This house seems a very pleasant one," he remarked, turn- 
 ing himself half-round, towards the green drawing-room, from 
 whence the sound of animated conversation was proceeding. 
 
 " Yes, yes," resumed Monsieur de Condamin, who checked his 
 remarks every now and tlien to take a little sip of his punch. 
 " The Rougons almost make us forget Paris. You would 
 scarcely fancy here that you were in Plassans. It is the only 
 pleasant and amusing drawing-room in the whole place, because 
 it is the only one where all shades of opinion elbow each other. 
 Pequeur, too, has very pleasant assemblies. It must cost the 
 Roiigons a lot of money, and they haven't the public purse 
 behind them like Pequeur has ; though they have something 
 better still, the pockets of the tax-payers." 
 
 He seemed quite pleased with this witticism of his. He put 
 down his empty glass, which he had been holding in his hand, 
 upon the mantelpiece, and then, drawing his chair near to the 
 Abbe Faujas and leaning forward towards him, he began to 
 speak again : 
 
 " The most amusing comedies are being continually played 
 here. But you ought to know the actors to appreciate them. 
 You see Madame Rastoil over yonder between her two daughters, 
 that lady of about forty-five with a head like a sheep's 1 Well, 
 have you noticed how her eyelids trembled and blinked when 
 Delangre came and sat in front of her 1 Delangre is the man 
 there on the left, with a likeness to Punch. They were 
 acquainted intimately some ten years ago, and he is said to 
 be the father of one of the girls, but it isn't known which. The 
 funniest part of the business is that Delangre himself didn't get 
 on very well with his wife about the same time; and people say 
 that the father of his daughter is an artist very well known in 
 Plassans." 
 
 The Abbe Faujas considered that it was his duty to assume 
 a serious expression on being made the recipient of confidences 
 of such a nature as these, and he completely closed his eyes and
 
 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS, 73 
 
 seemed as though he no longer heard what was being said. 
 Monsieur de Condamin continued, as though in justification of 
 himself: 
 
 " I allow myself to speak in this way of Delaugre, as I know 
 him so well. He's a wonderfully clever and pushing fellow. 
 Hie father was a bricklayer, I believe. Fifteen years ago he 
 used to take up the little petty suits that the other lawyers 
 wouldn't be bothered with. Madame Rastoil extricated him 
 from a condition of absolute penury; she supplied him 
 even with wood iu the winter time to enable him to keep 
 himself warm. It was through her influence that he won his 
 first cases. It's worth mentioning that at that time Delaugre 
 had been shrewd enough to manifest no particular political pro- 
 clivities ; and so, in 1852, when they were looking out for a 
 mayor, his name was at once thought of. He was the only man 
 who could have been chosen without alarming one or other of 
 the three divisions of the town. From that time everything 
 has prospered with him, and he has a fine future before him. 
 The only unfortunate part of the matter is that he doesn't get 
 on very well with Pequeur, and they are always wrangling about 
 some silly trifles or other." 
 
 He broke off as he saw the tall young man, with whom he 
 had been chatting previously, coming up to him again. 
 
 " Monsieur Guillaume Porquier," he said, introducing him to 
 the Abbe, " the son of Doctor Porquier." 
 
 Then, as Guillaume seated himself, he asked him with a touch 
 of irony : 
 
 " Well ! what did you see to admire over yonder 1 " 
 
 " Nothing at all, indeed ! " replied the young man with a 
 smile. "I saw the Paloques. Madame Rougon always tries 
 to hide them behind a curtain to prevent anything unpleasant 
 happening. A woman in the family-way who saw them 
 out one day on the promenade nearly had a miscarriage. Pa- 
 loque never takes his eyes off President Kastoil, hoping, probably, 
 to kill him with suppressed terror. You know, of course, that 
 the hideous fellow hopes to die pi-esident." 
 
 They both laughed. The ugliness of the Paloques was a 
 perpetual source of amusement amongst the little circle of 
 officials. Porquier's son lowered his voice as he continued : 
 
 " I saw Monsieur Bourdcu, too. Doesn't it strike you 
 that he's got ever so much thinner since the Marquis de 
 Lagrifoul's election? Bourdeu will never get over the loss
 
 74 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS, 
 
 of his prefecture ; he had put all his Orlcanist rancour at 
 the service of the Legitimists iu the hope that that course 
 would lead him straight to the Chamber, where he would be 
 able to win back the much deplored prefecture. Con- 
 sequently he has been hon-ibly disgusted and hurt that instead 
 of himself they chose the marquis, who is a perfect ass and 
 hasn't the faintest notion of politics, while he, Bourdeu, is 
 a very shrewd fellow." 
 
 " That Bourdeu, with his tightly-buttoned frock-coat and 
 broad-brimmed hat, is a most over-bearing person," said 
 Monsieur de Condamin, shrugging his shoulders. " If such 
 people as he were allowed to have their own way they would 
 turn France into a mere Sorbonne of lawyers and dip)lomatists, 
 and would bore us all to death — Oh ! by the way, Guillaume, 
 I have been hearing about you. You seem to be leading a 
 merry sort of life." 
 
 " I ? " exclaimed the young man with a smile. 
 
 " Yes, you, my fine fellow ! and observe that I get my 
 information from your father. He is much distressed about 
 it, and he accvises you of gambling aud of stajung out all 
 night at the club and other places. Is it true that you have 
 discovered a low cafe behind the gaol where you go with 
 a company of sctxmps and play the devil's own game 1 I have 
 even been told — " 
 
 Here Monsieur de Condamin, observing two ladies enter 
 the room, began to whisper in Guillaume's ear, while the young- 
 man replied with affirmative signs and shook with suppressed 
 laughter. Then he bent forward in turn and whispered to 
 Monsieiir de Condamin, and the two of them, drawing them- 
 selves closely together with brightly glistening eyes, seemed 
 to derive a prolonged enjoyment from this private story, 
 which they dicl not dare to allow to reach the ladies' ears. 
 
 The Abbe Faujas had remained where he was. He could 
 not hear what was being said, and he was occupying himself 
 by watching the movements of Monsieur Delangre, who was 
 bustling about the green drawmg-room and making him- 
 self extremely agreeable. He was so absorbed in his observa- 
 tions that he did not see the Abbe Bourrette beckoning to him, 
 and the latter was obliged to come and touch his shoulder 
 and ask him to follow him. He led him into the card-room 
 with all the precaution of a man who has some very delicate 
 communication to make.
 
 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 75 
 
 (( 
 
 My dear fellow," he wliispercd, when they were alone 
 in a quiet corner, " it is excusable in you, as this is the first 
 time you have been here, but I must warn you that you 
 have compromised yourself very considerably by talking so 
 long with the persons yoii have just left." 
 
 Then, as the Abb^ Faujas looked at hiui with great surprise, 
 he added : 
 
 " Those persons are not looked upon very favourably. I 
 myself am not passing any judgment upon them, and I don't 
 want to repeat any scandal. I am simply warning you 
 out of pure friendship, that's all." 
 
 He was going away, but the Abbe Faujas detained him, 
 and said to him with a show of earnestness : 
 
 " You disquiet me, my dear Monsieur Bourrette ; I beg 
 of you to explain yourself. Without speaking any ill of 
 any one, you can surely be a little clearer." 
 
 " Very well," replied the old priest, after a momentary 
 hesitation, "Doctor Porquier's son causes the greatest dis- 
 tress to his worthy father, and sets the worst example to 
 all the studious youth of Plassans. He left nothing but debts 
 behind him at Paris, and here he is turning the whole town 
 upside down. As for Monsieur de Condamin — " 
 
 Here he hesitated again, feeling embarrassed by the enormity 
 of what he had to relate ; then, lowering his eyes, he resumed : 
 
 " ISIonsieur de Condamin is free in his conversation, and I 
 fear he is deficient in a sense of morality. He spares no one, 
 and he scandalizes every honourable person. Then — I really 
 hardly know how to tell you — but he has contracted, it is said, 
 a not veiy creditable marriage. You sec that young woman 
 there, who is not thirty years old, and who has such a crowd 
 round her 1 Well, he brought her to Plassans one day from no 
 one knows where. From the day of her arrival, she has been 
 all-powerful here. It is she who has got her husband and 
 Doctor Porquier decorated.. She has influential friends at 
 Paris. But I beg of you not to repeat any of this. Madame 
 de Condamin is very amiable and charitable. I go to her house 
 sometimes, and I should be extremely distressed, if 1 thouglit 
 that she considered me an enemy of hers. If she has com- 
 mitted faults, it is our duty — is it not? — to help her return to 
 a better way of life. As for her husband, he is, between 
 ourselves, a perlect scamp. Have as little as possible to do 
 with him "
 
 76 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS, 
 
 The Abbe Faujas gazed into the worthy Bonrrette's eyes. 
 He had just noticed tliat Madame Rougon was following their 
 conversation from the distance, with an air of pre-occupation. 
 
 " Wasn't it Madame Rougon who told you to come and give 
 me this good advice ] " he suddenly asked of the old priest. 
 
 " How did you know that ? " the latter exclaimed in great 
 astonishment. " She asked me not to mention her name, but 
 since you have guessed it — Ah ! she is a good, kind-hearted 
 lady who would be much distressed to see a priest cor /romising 
 himself in her house. She is unfortunately compellea to receive 
 all sorts of persons." 
 
 The Abbe Faujas expressed his thanks, and promised to be 
 more prudent in the future. The card-players had not taken 
 any notice of the two priests, and the Abbe Faujas returned 
 into the big drawing-room, where he was again conscious of 
 hostile surroundings. He even experienced a greater coldness 
 and a more silent contempt than before. The ladies pulled 
 their dresses out of his way as though his touch would have 
 soiled them, and the men turned away from him with sneering- 
 titters. He himself maintained a haugiity calmness and 
 indifference. Fancying that he heard the word Besancon 
 meaningly pronounced in the corner of the room where Madame 
 de Condamin was holding her court, he walked straight up to 
 the group by which she was surrounded ; but, at his approach, 
 there was a dead silence amongst them, and they all stared 
 him in the face with eyes that gleamed with uncharitable 
 juriosity. He felt quite sure that they had been talking about 
 him, and repeating some disgraceful story. While he was still 
 standing there, behind the Rastoil young ladies, Avho had not 
 observed him, he heard the younger one ask her sister : 
 
 " What was it that this priest, of whom everyone is talking, 
 did at Besancon 1 " 
 
 " I don't quite know," the elder sister replied. " I believe 
 he nearly murdered his vicar in a quarrel they had. Papa also 
 said that he had been mixed up in some great business specula- 
 tion which turned out badly." 
 
 "He's in the small room over there, isn't hel Somebody 
 has just seen him laughing with Monsieur de Condamin." 
 
 " Oh ! then they're quite right to distrust him if he laughs 
 Avith Monsieur de Condamin." 
 
 This gossip of the two girls made the perspiration start from 
 the Abbe Faujas's brows. He did not frown, but his lips were
 
 THE CONQUEST OF TLASSANS. 77 
 
 tightly compressed, and his cheeks took an ashy tint. He 
 seemed to hear the whole room talking of the priest whom he 
 had tried to murder, and of the shady transactions in which 
 he had been concemed. 
 
 Opposite him were Monsieur Delangre and Doctor Porquier, 
 still looking very severe ; Monsieur de Bourdeu's mouth was 
 twisted scornfully, as he said something in low tones to a lady ; 
 Monsieur Maffre, the magistrate, was casting furtive glances at 
 him, and seemed to be piously resolved to examine him from 
 a distance before condemning him ; and at the other end of 
 the room, the two hideous Paloques craned out their malice- 
 wai-ped faces, in which shone a wicked joy at all the cruel stories 
 that were being whispered about. The Abbe Fanjas slowly 
 retired as he saw Madame Rastoil, who had been standing a 
 few yards away, come up and seat herself between her two 
 daughters as though to keep them under the protection of her 
 wins:, and shield them from his touch. He leant his elbow on 
 the piano which he saw behind him, and there he stood with 
 his head erect, and his face as hard and silent as a face of stone. 
 They were clearly all in a plot together, he felt, to treat him 
 as an outcast. 
 
 As the priest stood there gazing at the company from under 
 his half-closed eyelids, he suddenly made a slight start, which 
 he quickly suppressed. He had just caught sight of the Abbe 
 Fenil leaning back in an easy-chair, and smiling quietly behind 
 a perfect wall of petticoats. The eyes of the two men met, 
 and they gazed at each other for some moments with the fierce 
 expression of a couple of duellists about to engage in mortal 
 combat. Then there was a rustling of silk, and the Abbe Fenil 
 was hidden from sight by the ladies' dresses. 
 
 Felicity now contrived to get herself into the neighbourhood 
 of the piano, and when she had succeeded in getting the elder of 
 the Piastoil girls, who had a pleasant voice, seated at it, and 
 was able to speak to the Abbe Faujas without being heard, she 
 drew him aside to one of the windows and said to him : 
 
 " What have you done to the Abbe Fenil 1 " 
 
 They began to talk in very low tones. The priest at first 
 feigned surprise, but when Madame Rougon had murmured a 
 few words, accompanied by sundry shruggings of her shoulders, 
 he seemed to grow more open and talked more freely. They 
 were both smiling and seemed to be merely exchanging ordinary 
 courtesies, though the glistening of their eyes spoke of some-
 
 78 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 
 
 thing mucli more serious. The piano was silent for a moment, 
 and the elder Mademoiselle Rastoil began to sing " La Colombe 
 du Soldat," which was a very favourite song at that time. 
 
 " Your delmt has been most unfortunate," Felicite continued ; 
 " you have set people against you and I should advise you not 
 to come again for a considerable time. You must make your- 
 self popular and a favourite, you understand. Any rash act 
 would be fatal." 
 
 The Abbe Faujas seemed absorbed in thought. 
 
 " You say that it was the Abbe Fenil who circulated these 
 abominable stories 1 " he asked. 
 
 " Oh ! he is much too wily to commit himself in such a way, 
 He will just have faintly suggested them to his penitents. 
 I don't know whether he has found you out, but he is certainly 
 afraid of you ! I am quite sure of that, and he will attack you 
 in every possible way. The most unfortunate part of the 
 matter is that he confesses the most important people in the 
 town. It was he who nominated the Marquis de Lagrifoul." 
 
 " I was wrong to come this evening," the priest murmured. 
 
 Felicite bit her lips ; then she continued with animation : 
 
 " You are wrong to compromise yourself with such a man as 
 that Condamin. I did what I thought was for the best. When 
 the person that you know of wrote to me from Paris I 
 thought that I should be doing you a service by inviting you 
 here. I imagined that you would be able to make it an oppor- 
 tunity for gaining friends. But, instead of doing what you 
 could to make yourself popular, you have set every one against 
 you. Please excuse my freedom, but you really seem to be 
 doing all you can to ensure your failure. You have committed 
 nothing but mistakes in going to lodge with my son-in-law, 
 in persistently keeping yourself aloof from others, and in 
 going about in a cassock which makes the street-lads jeer 
 at you." 
 
 The Abb4 Faujas could not suppress a movement of im- 
 patience. But he merely replied : 
 
 " I will prefit by your kind advice. Only, don't try to assist 
 me, that would mar everything." 
 
 " Yes, what you say is only prudent," replied the old lady. 
 " Only return to this room in triumph. One last word, my 
 dear sir. The person in Paris is most anxious for your success, 
 and it is for that reason that I am interesting myself in you. 
 Now, don't make people frihgtened of you and cause them to
 
 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 79 
 
 shut! you : be pleasant and make yourself agreeable to the 
 ladies. Hcmember that particularly ; you must make yourself 
 afi;rceable to the ladies if you want to get Plassans on youi' 
 skle." 
 
 The elder Mademoiselle Rastoil had just finished her song 
 with a final flourish and the guests Avere softly applauding 
 her, Madame Rougon left the Abbe to go and congratulate 
 the singer. Then she went and took up her position in the 
 middle of the room and shook hands with the visitors who were 
 beginning to retire. It was eleven o'clock. The Abbe was much 
 vexed to find that the worthy Bourrctte had taken advantage 
 of the music to eft'cct his escape. He had been calculating on 
 leaving with him, a course v/hich would have enabled him to 
 make a respectable departure. Now he would have to go 
 away alone, which wo.ild be very prejudicial to him, and it 
 would be reported tlu'ough the town in the morning that he 
 had been turned out of the house. He retired again into the 
 window-recess and spied about to find the means of making an 
 lionourable retreat. 
 
 The room was emptying fast, however, and there were only 
 a few ladies left. At last he noticed one who was very simply 
 dressed ; it was Madame Mouret, whose slightly waved hair 
 made her look younger than usual. He looked with surprise 
 upon her tranquil face and her great, peaceful, black eyes. He 
 had not noticed her during the evening ; she had remained sit- 
 ting quietl}' in the same corner without moving, vexed at wast- 
 ing her time in this way, with her hands upon her knees, doing- 
 nothing. While he was looking at her, she rose to take leave 
 of her mother. 
 
 Felicite was feeling the most thrilling pleasure at seeing 
 the highest society of Plassans leaving her with polite bows 
 and thanking her for her punch and her green drawing-room 
 and the pleasant evening they had spent there ; and she was 
 thinking how formerly these same fine folks had trampled 
 her underfoot, to use her own expression, while now the 
 richest amongst them could not find sweet enough smiles 
 for " dear IMadame Rougon. " 
 
 "Ah, madame 1" murmured MatFre, the magistrate, "one 
 quite forgets the passage of time here." 
 
 " You are the only pleasant hostess in all this uncivilized 
 place," pretty Madame de Condamin smiled. 
 
 " We shall expect you at dinner to-morrow," said Monsieur
 
 80 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 
 
 Delangre, " but jo\i must take pot-luck, for we don't pretend 
 to do as you do." 
 
 Martha was obliged to make her way through all this 
 incense-offering crowd to reach her mother. She kissed her, 
 and was about to retire when Felicite detained her and seemed 
 to be looking round and trying to find some one. Then, 
 catching sight of the Abbe Fan j as, she said with a smile : 
 
 " Is your reverence a gallant man ? " 
 
 The Abbe bowed. 
 
 " Then I should be much obliged to you if you would escort 
 my daughter home. You both live in the same house, and 
 so it will not put you to any inconvenience, and there is a 
 little piece of dark lane which is not very pleasant for a lady 
 by herself." 
 
 Marthe assured her mother, in her quiet way, that she 
 was not a little girl and was not at all afraid, but as Felicite 
 insisted and said she should feel easier if she had some one 
 with her, she accepted the Abbe's escort. As the latter was 
 leaving the room with her, Felicite, who accompanied them out 
 on to the landing, whispered in the priest's ear with a smile : 
 
 " Don't forget what I told you. You must make yourself 
 agreeable to the ladies, if you want to get Plassans on your 
 side."
 
 81 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 That same night Mouret, who was still awake when his wife 
 returned home, plied ]\Iarthe with a long string of questions in 
 his desire to find out what had taken place at Madame Rougon's. 
 She told him that everything had gone off just as usual, and 
 that nothing out of the common had happened. She just 
 added that the Abbe Faujas had walked home with her, and 
 that their conversation had been merely upon commonplace 
 topics. Mouret was very much vexed at what he called his 
 wife's indifference. 
 
 " If anyone had committed suicide at your mother's," he 
 growled, as he angrily buried his head in his pillow, " you would 
 know nothing about it ! " 
 
 When he came home to dinner the next day, he cried out to 
 Marthe as soon as he caught sight of her : 
 
 " I was quite siu-e of it ! I knew you had never troubled 
 yourself to use your eyes ! It's just like you ! Sitting the 
 whole evening in the room and not having the faintest notion 
 of what is being said or done around you ! Why, the whole 
 town is talking about it ! The whole town, do you hear 1 I 
 couldn't i^o anywhere without some one speaking to me about 
 it ! " 
 
 " About what, my dear V asked Marthe, in astonishment. 
 
 "About the extraordinary success (jf the Abbe Faujas, 
 forsooth ! He was turned out of the green drawing-room ! " 
 
 " Indeed he wasn't ! I saw nothing of the kind." 
 
 " Haven't I told you that you never see anything ? Do you 
 know what the Abbe did at Besangon 1 He either murdered a 
 priest or committed forgery! They can't be quite certain which 
 it was. However, they seem to have given him a nice reception ! 
 He turned quite green. Well, it's all up with him now ! " 
 
 Marthe bent down her head and allowed her husband to revel 
 in the priest's discomfiture. Mouret seemed wildly delighted. 
 
 " I still stick to my first idea," he said ; " your mother and 
 
 p
 
 82 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSAJSTS. 
 
 he have got some underhand plot together. I hear that she 
 showed him the greatest civihty. It was she, wasn't it, wiiu 
 asked him to accompany you home 1 Why didn't you teil me 
 soT' 
 
 Marthe shrugged her shoulders slightly without replying. 
 
 " You are the most provoking woman ! " her husband cried. 
 " All these little details are of the greatest importance. Madame 
 Paloque, whom I have just met, told me that she and several 
 other ladies had lingered behind to see how the Abbe would 
 effect his departure, and that your mother availed herself of 
 you to cover the parson's retreat. Just try to remember, now, 
 what he said to you as he walked home with you." 
 
 He sat down by his wife's side and kept his keen, questioning 
 little eyes fixed sharply upon her. 
 
 " Really," she said quietly, " he only talked to me about the 
 most trifling matters, the merest commonplaces such as anyone 
 might have said. He spoke about the cold, which was very 
 sharp, and about the quietness of the town in the night-tim 3, 
 and then I think he spoke of the pleasant evening he h; d 
 passed." 
 
 " Ah, the hypocrite ! Didn't he ask you any questions about 
 your mother or her guests 1 " 
 
 " No. It's only a very short distance, you know, from the 
 Rue de la Banne to here, and it didn't take xis thi-ee minutes. 
 He walked at my side without giving me his arm, and he took 
 such long strides that I was almost obliged to run. I don't 
 know why they should all be so bitter against him. He doesn't 
 seem very well off, and he was shivering, poor man, in that 
 worn old cassock of his." 
 
 Mouret was not without pity and sympath3^ 
 
 " Ah ! he must have done," he said ; " he can't be able to 
 keep himself warm now that the frost has come." 
 
 " I'm sure we have nothing to complain of in his conduct," 
 Marthe continued. " He is very punctual in his payments, and 
 lie makes no noise and gives no trouble. Where could you find 
 a more desirable tenant 1 " 
 
 " Nowhere, I grant you. What I was saying just now was 
 to show you what little attention you pay wherever you go to 
 what is going on about you. I know the set your mother re- 
 ceives too well to attach much weight to anything that happens 
 in the green drawing-room : it's a perpetual source of wild 
 stories and lies and the most ridiculous fictions. I don't suppose
 
 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 83 
 
 for a moment that the Abbe has murdered anyone any more 
 than ho lias been bankrupt; and I said to Madame I'aloque that 
 peoi:)le ought to see that their own linen was clean before find- 
 ing fault with that of others. I hope she took the hint to her- 
 self." 
 
 This was a fib on Mouret's part, for he had said nothing of 
 the kind to Madame Paloque ; but Martlie's gentle pity had 
 made him feel a little ashamed of the delight he had manifested 
 at the Abbe's troubles. On the following days he Avent entirely 
 over to the priest's side, and when he happened to meet a 
 set of people that he detested, Monsieur de Bourdeu, Monsieur 
 Delangre, and Doctor Porquier, he launched out into a warm 
 eulogium of the Abbe for the salie of differing from them and 
 for the pleasure of astonishing and annoying them. The Abbe 
 was, he told them, a man of great courage and perfect guileless- 
 ness, but poor, and that it must have been some very base- 
 minded person who had originated the calumnies about him. 
 Then he went on to have a rap at the Rougons' guests, whom 
 he called a set of hypocrites and canting humbugs and stuck- 
 up idiots, who were envious and afraid of a man of real virtue. 
 In the course of a short time he had quite made the Abbe's 
 quarrel his own, and he availed himself of it to attack the fre- 
 quenters of Monsieur Rastoil's house and those of the Sub-Pre- 
 fecture as well. 
 
 " Isn't it pitiable 1 " he said sometimes to his wife, forgetting 
 that she had heard him tell a very different story, "isn't it 
 pitiable to see a lot of people who have stolen their money from 
 no one knows where, so bitter against a poor man just because 
 he hasn't got twenty francs to spare to buy a cart-load of wood ? 
 .Such conduct quite disgusts me ! I'm quite willing to be surety 
 for him, indeed. I ought to know Avhat he does and what sort 
 of a man he is, since he lives in my house ; and so I'm not 
 backward in telling them the truth, and I give them all they 
 deserve when I meet them. And I mean to stick to that, too. 
 I want tlie Abbe to be my friend, and I mean to walk out witli 
 him arm-in-arm along the promenade to let people know that 
 I'm not afraid of being seen with him, rich and well thought of 
 as I am ; and I hope you will show all the kindness and con- 
 sideration to these poor people that you can." 
 
 Marthe smiled quietly. She was delighted at the friendly 
 disposition her husband was manifesting for their lodgers. 
 Rose was ordered to show them every civility, and she was in-
 
 84 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 
 
 structed to volunteer to do Madame Faujas's shopping for her 
 on wet mornings. Tlie latter, however, always declined the 
 cook's services, but she no longer manifested that silent stiflhess 
 of deraeoiiour which she had shown during the earlier days of 
 her residence in the house. One morning as she met Marthe, 
 who was coming down from an attic Avhich Avas used as a store- 
 room for the fruit, she stopped and talked to her for a moment, 
 and even unbent so far as to accept a couple of magnificent 
 pears. These two pears were the beginning of a closer intimacy 
 between them. 
 
 The Abbe Faujas, too, did not now glide so hurriedly up and 
 down the stairs as he had been used to do, and almost every 
 day, as Mouret heard the rustling of his cassock as he came 
 down, he presented himself at the foot of the staircase 
 and told the priest that it would give him great pleasure 
 to walk part of the way with him. He had thanked him for 
 the little service he had done his wife, skilfully questioning 
 him at the same time to find out if he intended again present- 
 ing himself at the Rougons'. The Abbe had smiled and 
 freely confessed that he was not fitted for society. Mouret was 
 delighted, feeling quite certain that he had had some influence 
 in bringing about his lodger's decision, and he began to dream of 
 abstracting him entirely from the green drawing-room and keep- 
 ing him altogether to himself. So, when Marthe told him one 
 evening that Madame Faujas had accepted a couple of pears, he 
 looked upon it as a fortunate circumstance which would facili- 
 tate the execution of his designs. 
 
 " Haven't they really got a fire on the second floor this bitterly 
 cold weather 1 " he asked in Rose's presence. 
 
 "No, indeed, sir," replied the cook, who imderstood that the 
 question was meant for herself, " they couldn't very well, for 
 I've never seen the least bit of wood taken up)stairs, imless 
 they're burning their four chairs or Madame Faujas manages to 
 carry up the wood in her basket." 
 
 " It is not right of you to talk in that way, Rose," said 
 Marthe. " The poor things must be shivering with cold in those 
 big rooms." 
 
 " I should think so, indeed," exclaimed Moui'et ; "there were 
 several degrees of frost last night and there was considerable fear 
 felt about the olive-trees. The Avater in our jug upstairs was 
 frozen. This room of ours here is a small one, and very wai-m." 
 
 The dining-room was carefully protected with pads, so that
 
 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 8R 
 
 not the least draught could find its way throi;gh any crevice, 
 and a great earthenware stove made the place as warm as a 
 bake-house. In the winter-time the young people read or 
 amused themselves round the table, while Mouret made his 
 wife play piquet till bed-time, which was a perfect punishment 
 to her. " For a long time she had refused to touch the cards, 
 saying that she did not know a single game, but at last he had 
 taught her piquet, and then she had had to resign herself to 
 her fate. 
 
 "Don't you think," Mouret continued, "that we really ought 
 to ask the Faujases to come and spend the evenings here ? They 
 would at any rate be warm for two or three hours ; and they 
 would be company for us, too, and make us feel more lively. 
 Ask them, and I don't think they'll refuse." 
 
 The next day when Marthe met Madame Faujas in the lobby, 
 the invitation was given, and the old lady at once accepted it 
 for herself and her son without the slightest hesitation. 
 
 " I'm surprised she didn't make some little demur about 
 coming," Mouret said. " I expected that they would have re- 
 quired more pressing. The Abbe is beginning to understand 
 that he is wrong in living like a wild beast." 
 
 In the evening Mouret took care that the table was cleared 
 in good time, and he put out a bottle of sweet wine and a plate- 
 ful of little cakes which he had ordered to be bought. Although 
 he was not given to being lavish, he was anxious to show that 
 the Rougons were not the only people who knew how things 
 ought to be done. The tenants of the second floor came down- 
 stairs about eight o'clock. The Abbe Faujas was wearing a new 
 cassock, and Mouret was so much surprised at the siglit that 
 he could only stammer out a few words in answer to the priest's 
 courtesies. 
 
 " Indeed, your reverence, all the honour is for us. Come, 
 children, put some chairs here ! " 
 
 They all took their seats round the table. The room was un- 
 comfortably warm, for Mouret had crammed the stove as full as 
 it v/ould hold to let his guests see that he made no account of 
 a log more or less. The Abb^ Faujas made himself very pleasant, 
 fondling D<^sir(^e and questioning the two lads about their 
 studies. Marthe, who was knitting stockings, raised her eyes 
 every now and then in surprise at the flexible tones of this un- 
 wonted voice which she had not been accustomed to hear sound- 
 ing in the monotono\i3 quietness of the dining-room. She
 
 8B THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 
 
 looked at the priest's powerful face and his square-cut features, 
 and then she bent her head again, without trying to hide the 
 interest she took in this man who was so strong and kindly and 
 who she knew was so poor. Mouret was uncouthly staring 
 hard at the new cassock, and he could not restrain himself 
 from saying, with a sly smile : 
 
 " You needn't have troubled yourself, your reverence, to dress 
 to come here. We don't go in for ceremony, as you know very 
 well." 
 
 Marthe blushed, while the priest gaily related that he had 
 bought the cassock that day. He liad kept it on, lie said, to 
 please his mother, who thought he looked finer than a king in 
 his new robe. 
 
 " Don't joxi, mother?" he asked of the old lady. 
 
 Madame Faujas nodded her head without taking her eyes off 
 her son. She was sitting opposite to him, and she was looking 
 at him in the bright lamp-light with an air of ecstacy. 
 
 They began to talk about variovis matters and the Abbe 
 Faujas appeared to throw off all his gloomy reserve. He still 
 remained grave, but it was a pleasant gravity and full of kindly 
 cheerfulness. He listened attentively to Mouret, replied to 
 his most insignificant remarks, and seemed to take an interest 
 in his gossiping talk. His landlord was now explaining to him 
 the manner in which the family lived, and he finiohed his 
 account by saying : 
 
 " We spend our evenings in the way you see, always as quietly 
 as this. We never invite anyone, as we are always more com- 
 fortable by ourselves. Every evening I have a game at piquet 
 with my wife. It is a very old habit of ours and I could scarcely 
 go to sleep without it." 
 
 " Pray don't let us interfere v.-ith it ! " cried the Abbe Faujas. 
 " I beg that you won't in any way depart from your usual 
 habits on our account." 
 
 " Oh dear no ! I am not a monomaniac about it, and it 
 won't kill me to go without it for once." 
 
 The priest insisted for a time, but, when he saw that Marthe 
 showed even greater determination than her husband not to 
 play, he turned towards his mother, who had been sitting silent 
 with lier hands folded in fi'ont of her, and said to her : 
 
 " Mother, you have a game with Monsieur Mouret." 
 
 She looked keenly into her soil's eyes. Mouret still con- 
 tinued to refuse to play and declared tliat he did not want to
 
 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 87 
 
 break up the party, but when the priest told him that liis 
 mother was a good player he gave way. 
 
 " Is she, indeed ? " he said. " Then, if madame really wishes 
 it, and no one objects — " 
 
 " Come along, mother, and have a game ! " the Abbe Faujas 
 said in more decided tones. 
 
 " Certainly," she replied, " I shall be delighted ; but I shall 
 have to change my place." 
 
 " Oh ! there will be no difficulty about that," said Mouret, 
 who was quite charmed. "You had better take your son's 
 l)lace, and perhaps your reverence will be good enough to go 
 and sit next to my wife, and then madame can sit there next to 
 me. There ! that will do capitally." 
 
 The priest, who had at first been sitting opposite to Marthc 
 on the other side of the table, was now sitting next to 
 her. They were quite apart by themselves at one end of the 
 table, the tw^o players having drawn their chairs close together 
 to engage in their struggle. Octave and Serge had just gone 
 up to their room. Desiree was sleeping with her head on the 
 table after her iisual custom. When ten o'clock struck, 
 Mouret, who had lost the first game, did not feel inclined to 
 go to bed and asked for his revenge. Madame Faujas con- 
 sulted her son with a glance, and then in her tranquil fashion 
 began to shuffle the cards. The Abbe had merely exchanged a 
 few words with Marthe. On this first evening that he spent 
 in the dining-room he spoke only on commonplace to[)ics ; the 
 household, the price of victuals at Plassans, and the anxieties 
 which children caused. Marthe replied with a show of interest, 
 looking up every now and then with her bright glance, and 
 importing into the conversation something of her own quiet 
 restfulness. 
 
 It was nearly eleven o'clock when Mouret threw down the 
 cards with some slight irritation. 
 
 " I have lost again !" he said. " T haven't had a single good 
 card all the evening. Perhaps I shall have better luck to- 
 morrow. We shall see you again then, I hope, madame 1 " 
 
 And when the Abb6 Faujas began to protest that they could 
 not think of abusing the Mourets' kindness by disturbing them 
 in this way every evennig, he continued : 
 
 "But you are not disturbing us at all, you are giving us 
 pleasure. Tjesides, I have been defeated, and I'm sure madame 
 can't refuse me another game,"^
 
 88 THE CONQUEST OF I'LASSANS. 
 
 When the priest and his mother had accepted the invitation 
 and had gone upstairs again, Mouret showed some irritation 
 and began to excuse himself for having lost. He seemed quite 
 annoyed about it. 
 
 " The old woman isn't as good a player as I am, I'm sure," 
 he said to his wife ; " but she has got such eyes ! I could 
 really almost fancy she was cheating, upon my word I could ! 
 Well ! v.'B shall see Avhat happens to-morrow." 
 
 From that time the Faujases came down regularly every day 
 to spend the evening with the Mourets. There were tremend- 
 ous battles between the old lady and her landlord. She seemed 
 to play with him and to let him win just frequently enough to 
 ];revent his being altogether discouraged, and this made him 
 fume with suppressed anger, for he prided himself on his skill 
 at piquet. He used to indulge in dreams of beating her night 
 after night for weeks in succession without ever letting her 
 win a single game, while she ever preserved a wonderful cool- 
 ness, and her square peasant-like face remained quite un- 
 moved and expressionless as her big hands threw down the 
 cards with the force and regularity of a machine. From eight 
 o'clock till bed-time they both remained seated at their end of 
 the table, quite absorbed in their game and never moving. 
 
 At the other end, near tl;e stove, the Abbe Faujas and 
 Marthe were left entirely to themselves. The Abbe felt a 
 masculine and priestly disdain for the woman, and in spite of 
 himself this disdain often made itself manifest in some slightly 
 harsh expression. At these times Marthe was affected with a 
 strange feeling of anxiety, and raised her eyes with one of 
 those sudden thrills of alarm which cause people to cast 
 a hurried glance behind them, half expecting to see some 
 concealed enemy raising his hand to strike. At other times 
 she would check herself suddenly in the midst of a laugh on 
 catching sight of his cassock, and she would relapse into silence, 
 quite confused and astonished at finding herself talking so 
 freely to a man who was so different from other men. It 
 was a long time before there was any real intimacy between 
 them. 
 
 The Abbe Faujas never directly questioned Marthe about 
 her husband, or her children, or her house ; but, nevertheless, 
 he gradually made himself master of tlie slighest details of 
 their history and manner of life. Every evening, while ]\Iouret 
 and Madame Faujas were contending furiously with each other,
 
 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 8!) 
 
 he contrived to learn some new fact. Upon one occaskai he 
 remarked that the husband and wife were surprisingly alike. 
 
 "Yes," Marthc replied with a smile, "when wc were twenty 
 vears old we used to be taken for brother and sister ; and, 
 indeed, it was a little owing to that that we got married. Peojjle 
 used to joke us about it, and were continually making us stand 
 side by side, and saying what a fine couple we should make. 
 The likeness was so striking that the worthy Monsieur Compan, 
 though he knew us quite well, hesitated to marry us." 
 
 " But you are cousins, are you not % " .the priest asked. 
 
 " Yes," she replied, with a slight blush, " my husband is a 
 Macquart, and I am a Rougon." 
 
 Then she kept silence for a moment or two, ill at ease, for 
 she felt sure that the priest knew the history of her family 
 which was so notorious at Plassans. Tlie Macquarts were an 
 illegitimate branch of the Piougons. 
 
 " The most singular part of it is," she resumed, to conceal 
 her embarrassment, " that we both resemble our grandmother. 
 My husband's mother transmitted the likeness to him, while in 
 me it has been reiDroduced after a break. It has leapt over my 
 father." 
 
 Then the Abbe cited a similar instance in his own family. 
 lie had a sister, he said, who Avas the living image of her 
 mother's grandfather. The likeness in this case had leapt over 
 two generations. His sister, too, closely resembled the old 
 man in her character and habits, and even in her gestures and 
 the tone of lier voice. 
 
 "It was just the same with mo when I was a little girl; I 
 have heard people sa}'," remarked Martlie, " ' That's aiant Dide 
 all over again ! ' The poor woman is now at Lcs Tiilettes. She 
 never had a strong head. As I liave grown older, I have become 
 less excitable and stronger, but I remember that when I Avas a 
 child I hadn't very good health, and I used to have attacks of 
 giddiness, and to be filled Avitli the strangest fancies. I of (en 
 laugh now when I think of the extraordinary things I used to 
 do." 
 
 " And your husband % " 
 
 "Oh! he takes after his father, a journeyman hatter, a 
 careful, prudent man. But, though wc wei-e so much alike in 
 face, it Avas quite a diflerent matter as to our dispositions; 
 yet as time has gone on we have gi'OAvn to resemble each 
 other very much. We Avere so peaceful and ha]jpy in our
 
 90 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 
 
 business at Marseilles ! The fifteen years that I spent there 
 have taught me to find happiness in my own home, in the midst 
 of my children." 
 
 The Abbe Faujas noticed a touch of bitterness in her tone 
 every time he led her to speak on this subject. She was 
 certainly happy, as she said, but he fancied he could see traces 
 of old rebellion in her nervous nature, that was now calmed 
 down by the approach of her fortieth year. He imagined a 
 little drama for himself, in which this husband and wife, who 
 were so alike in appearance, were considered by their relations 
 as being made for each other, and were forced into marriage, 
 while, in reality, the taint of illegitimacy, and the disagreement 
 oi mingled and always inharmonious strains of blood, h pined to 
 irritate the antagonism of two different temperaments. Then 
 liis mind dwelt upon the fatal deterioration that attends a too 
 monotonoiis life, and the wearing away of character by the 
 daily cares of business, and upon the soporific effect of the 
 fifteen years' fortune-making upon these two natures, who were 
 now living upon that fortune in a sleepy corner of a small 
 town. To-day, though they were both still young, there seemed 
 to be nothing left but the ashes of their former selves. The 
 Abbe tried cleverly to discover whether Marthe was resigned to 
 her existence, and he found her full of common-sense. 
 
 " I am quite contented with my home," she said ; " my 
 children are all that I want. I have never been much given 
 to gaiety, and I only feel a little dull here sometimes, that 
 is all. I daresay I should have been better if I had had some 
 mental occupation, but I have never been able to find one. 
 And perhaps, after all, it's as well I haven't, for I should very 
 likely have split my head. I could never even read a novel 
 without giving myself a frightful head-ache, and for some nights 
 afterwards all the characters used to dance about in my brain. 
 Needle-wox'k is the only thing which never fatigues me, and T 
 stay at home to keep out of the way of all tlie noise and chatter 
 outside, and all the frivolous follies which only weary me." 
 
 She paused every now and then to glance at Desiree, who 
 was sleeping with her head upon the table, and kept smiling 
 with her innocent smile as she slept. 
 
 "Poor child!" she murmured. "She can't even do any 
 needle-work. She gets dizzy directly. She is fond of animals, 
 and that's all she's capable of. When she goes to stay a month 
 with her nurse she spends all her time in the farm-yard, and
 
 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 91 
 
 she comes back to me with rosy cheeks and as strong and well 
 as possible." 
 
 She often spoke of Les Tulettes, manifesting a Inrking fear 
 of insanity, and the Abbe Faujas tluis became aware of a strange 
 dread haunting this peaceful home. Marthe loved her husband 
 with a sober, unimpassioned love, but there was mingled with 
 her affection for him a fear of his jokes and pleasantries, and 
 his perpetual worry ings. She was hurt, too, by his selfishness, 
 and the loneliness in which he left her ; she felt a vague 
 bitterness against him for the solitude in which he caused her 
 to live, and for that very manner of life which she said made 
 her happy. When she spoke of him, she said : 
 
 " He is very good to us. You've heard him, I daresay, get 
 angry sometimes, but that arises from his love of seeing every- 
 thing in order, thouoh he often carries it to an almost ridiculous 
 extent, and he gets quite vexed if he sees a flower-pot a little 
 out of its place in the garden, or a play-thing lying about on 
 the floor ; but in other matters he is quite right in pleasing 
 himself. I know he is not very popular, because he has managed 
 to accumulate a fortune, and still continues to do a good stroke 
 of business every now and then ; but he only laughs at what 
 people say about him. They say nasty things, too, of him 
 about me. They say that he is a miser, and that he won't let 
 me go out anywhere, and even deprives me of boots. But all 
 tliat is quite untrue. I am entirely free. He certainly prefers 
 to find me here when he comes home, instead of knowing tliat 
 I am always off somewhere, paying calls and walking on the 
 promenade. He knows quite well what my tastes are. Wliat, 
 indeed, should I go out for 1 " 
 
 As she defended Mouret against the gossip of Plassans, her 
 tones assumed a sudden animation as though she felt the need 
 of defending him quite as much from the secret accusations 
 which formulated tiiemselves within her own mind ; and she 
 kept reverting with nervous uneasiness to the subject of life 
 outside her own home; she seemed to seek a refuge within 
 the narrow dining-room and the old-fashioned garden with its 
 hedges of box, appearing full of a vague alarm of she knew not 
 what, and doubtful of her strength and fearing some possible 
 catastrophe. Then she would smile at her own childish fears, 
 and shrug her shoulders as she resumed her iuntting or tlic 
 mending of some old shirt ; and the Abbe Fautjas would see be- 
 fore him only a cold, reserved house-wife, with listless face and
 
 92 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 
 
 inanimate eyes, who seemed to fill the hoixse with a scent of 
 clean linen and the soft perfume of blossoms gathered in the 
 shade. 
 
 Two months passed away in this manner. The Abb6 Fanjas 
 and his mother had become qnite part of tlie regular family-life 
 of the Mourets ; they all had their recognised places every 
 evening at the table, just as the lamp had its, and the same 
 intervals of silence were broken night after night by the same 
 remarks of the card-players, and the same subdued tones of the 
 priest and Marthe. When Madame Faujas had not given him 
 too tremendous a beating, Mouret found his lodgers " ex- 
 tremely nice i^eople." 
 
 All that curiosity of his, that was born of unemployed time, 
 waned and drooped away before the interest and occupation 
 that the nightly parties afforded him, and he no longer played 
 the spy uj)on the Abb^, saying that now he knew him better he 
 found that he was a very good fellow. 
 
 " Oh ! don't bother me with your stories ! " he iised to ex- 
 claim to those wlio attacked the Abbe Faujas. " You get hold 
 of a lot of ridiculous nonsense and put absurd interpretations 
 upon facts that admit of the simplest explanation. I know all 
 about him, and he very kindly comes and spends all his even- 
 ings with us. He's not a man who makes himself cheap, and 
 I can quite understand that people don't like him for it and 
 accuse him of pride." 
 
 Mouret greatly enjoyed being the only person in Plassans 
 who could boast of knowing the Abbe Faujas, and he even 
 somewhat abused this advantage. Every time he met Madame 
 Rougon he put on an air of triumph, and made her understand 
 that he had stolen her guest from her, while the old lady con- 
 tented herself with smiling quietly. With his intimate ac- 
 quaintances Mouret extended his confidences further, and re- 
 marked that those blessed priests could do nothing lilce other 
 people ; and then he gave them a string of little details and 
 told them in what manner the Abbe drank, and how he talked 
 to women, and how he always kept his knees apart without ever 
 crossing his legs, and other trifling matters which the vague 
 alarm of his free-thinking mind in the presence of his guest's 
 long mystic-looking cassock made him notice. 
 
 The evenings passed away one after another, and the first days 
 of February had come round. In all the conversations be- 
 tween himself and Marthe, the Abbe Faujas had appeared care-
 
 THE C0NQUE;3T OF PLASSANS. 03 
 
 fully to avoid the subject of religion. She had once remarked 
 to him, almost lightly : 
 
 " No, your reverence, I am not a very religious woman and 
 I seldom go to church. At Marseilles I was always too busy 
 and now I am too indolent to go out. And then I must con- 
 fess to you that I wasn't brought up with religious ideas. My 
 mother used to tell me that God would come to us quite as 
 well at home." 
 
 The priest bowed his head without making any reply, and 
 seemed to signify that he would rather not discuss such matters 
 under such circumstances. One evening, however, he drew a 
 picture of the unexpected comfort which suffering souls find in 
 religion. They were talking of a poor woman whom troubles 
 of every sort had driven to suicide. 
 
 "She was wrong to despair," said the priest in liis deep voice. 
 " She was ignorant of the comfort and consolation to be found 
 in prayer. I have often seen heart-broken, weeping women 
 come to us, and they have gone away again filled with a resig- 
 nation that they had vainly sought elsewhere, and glad to live; 
 and this had come from their falling upon their knees and 
 tasting the blessedness of humiliating themselves before God 
 in some quiet corner of the church. They returned, forgetting 
 all their old troubled life, and became God's entirely." 
 
 Marthe listened with a thoughtful expression to these remarks 
 of the priest, whose last words were spoken in a gradually 
 softening tone that seemed to breathe of a superhuman felicity. 
 " Yes, it must be a blessed thing," she murmured as though 
 she were speaking to herself; " I have thought about it some- 
 times, but I have always felt afraid." 
 
 The Abbe very seldom referred to such subjects as this, but 
 he frequently spoke on the subject of charity. Marthe was 
 very tender-hearted, and the tears rose to her eyes at the 
 slightest tale o*f trouble. It seemed to please the priest to see 
 her .so moved to pity; and every evening he told her some fresh 
 story of sorrow, and kept her constantly excited with a com- 
 passion that quite took her out of herself. She would let her 
 work fall and clasp her hands as, with a sad and iiitying face, 
 she gazed into his eyes and listened to him as he poured out 
 to her the heart-rending details of how some poor wretched per- 
 sons had died of starvation, or of how others had been goaded 
 by misery into committing base crimes. At these times she 
 fell completely under his influence, and he might have done
 
 94 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 
 
 with her what he willed. At the other end of the table, in the 
 meantime, there would every now and then break out a noisy 
 disagreement between Mouret and Madame Faujas on some 
 contested point in the game. 
 
 About the middle of February, a deplorable circumstance 
 threw Plassans into a state of painful dismay. It was disco /ered 
 that a number of quite young girls, scarcely more than children, 
 had fallen into debauchery in loafing about the streets, and it 
 was not only with lads of their own age and position that they 
 had gone wrong, but it was rumoured that persons highly 
 placed in the town would be compromised. For a week Marthe 
 was very painfully affected by this discovery, which caused the 
 greatest sensation. She was acquainted witli one of the un- 
 fortunate girls, a fair-haired girl whom she had often caressed, 
 and who was the niece of her cook. Rose; and she said that she 
 coidd not think about tlie poor little creature without shuddering 
 all over. 
 
 "It is a great pity," said the Abbe Faujas to her one evening, 
 " that there isn't a Home at Plassans on the model of the one 
 at Besan(^on." 
 
 In reply to Marthe's pressing questions, the Abbe explained 
 to her the constitution of this Home. It was a sort of refuge 
 for girls from eight to fifteen yeai's old, the daughters of work- 
 ing-men, whose parents were obliged to leave them during the 
 day to go to their eiiiploymeut. During the day-time these 
 girls were set to do needle-work, and in the evening they were 
 sent back to their parents, when these latter had returned home 
 again from their work. By this system the children were 
 brought up out of the reach of all vice and in the midst of the 
 best examples. Marthe thought the idea an extremely good 
 one, and she gradually became so pi'epossessed with it that she 
 could talk about nothing else than the necessity of founding a 
 similar institution at Plassans. 
 
 "We might put it under the patronage of the Virgin," the 
 Abbe Faujas suggested. " But there are such difficulties in the 
 way ! You have no idea of the trouble there is in bringing 
 about the least good work ! What is quite essential to its 
 success is some woman with a motherly heart, full of zeal and 
 absolutely devoted to the work." 
 
 Marthe drooped her head and looked at Desiree, who was 
 asleep by her side, and she felt the tears welling from beneatli 
 her eyelids. She made inquiries as to the steps that it would 
 
 o
 
 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 95 
 
 be necessary to take for foundiug such a Home, the cost of con- 
 structing it, and the annual expenses. 
 
 " Will you help me ? " she suddenly asked the priest one 
 evening. 
 
 The Abbe Faujas gravely took her hand and held it within 
 his own for a moment, while he told her that she had one of the 
 fairest souls he had ever known. He would willingly do what 
 he could, he told her, but he said that he should rely altogether 
 upon her, for the assistance that he himself would be able to 
 give would be very small. It would be for her to form a com- 
 mittee of the ladies of the town, to collect subscriptions, and to 
 take upon herself, in a word, all the delicate and onerous duties 
 connected with an appeal to the charity of the public. He 
 appointed a meeting with her for the following day at Saint- 
 Saturnin's to introduce her to the diocesan architect, who would 
 be able to tell her much better than he himself could do about 
 the expenses that w'ould have to be incurred. 
 
 Mouret was very gay that evening as they went to bed. He 
 had not allowed Madame Faujas to win a single game. 
 
 '•' You seem quite pleased about something to-night, my dear," 
 he said to his wife. " Did you see what a beating I gave the 
 old lady downstairs 1 " 
 
 As he observed Marthe taking a silk dress out of her ward- 
 robe, he asked her with some surprise if she was intending to 
 go out in the morning. He had not heard anything of the con- 
 versation in the dining-room between his wife and the priest, 
 
 " Yes," she i-eplied, " I have to go out. I have to meet the 
 Abbe Faujas at the church about a matter which I will tell 
 you of." 
 
 He stood motionless in front of her, and gazed at her with 
 an expression of stupefaction to see if she was not really mock- 
 ing at him. Then, without any appearance of displeasure, he 
 said in his bantering fashion : 
 
 " Hallo ! hallo ! well I never expected that ! So you've 
 gone over to the priests now ! "
 
 96 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 The next morning Marthe began by going to see her mother, 
 and she explained to her the pioixs undertaking which she was 
 contemplating. She felt a little anno^'ed as the old lady 
 smilingly shook her head, and she let her see that she con- 
 sidered her lacking in charity. 
 
 " It is one of the Abbe Faujas's ideas, isn't it ? " Felicite 
 asked suddenly. 
 
 "Yes," Marthe replied in surprise : " we have talked a good 
 deal about it togctlier. But how did you know 1 " 
 
 Madame Rougou shrugged her shoulders slightly without 
 vouchsafing any more definite reply. Then she continued with 
 a show of animation : 
 
 "Well, my dear, I think you are quite right. You ought to 
 have some kind of occu|ation, and you have found a very good 
 one. It has always di.st.esicd me very much to see you per- 
 petually shut up in that lonely, death-like house of yours. 
 But you mustn't comat upon my assistance. I had rather not 
 appear in the matter, for people would say that it was I who 
 was really doing everything, and that we had come to an 
 understanding together to try and force our ideas upon the 
 town. I should prefer that you yourself should have all the 
 credit of your charitable inspiration. I will help you with my 
 advice, if you will let me, but with nothing more." 
 
 " I was hoping that you would join the committee," said 
 Marthe, who was feeling a little alarmed at the thought of 
 finding herself alone in such an onerous undertaking. 
 
 " No ! no ! my presence on it would only do harm, I can 
 assure you. Make it well known, on the contrary, that I am 
 not going to be on the committee, that I have been asked, and 
 have refused, excusing myself on the ground that I am too 
 much occupied. Let it be understood, even, that I have no 
 faith in your scheme ; and that, you will see, will decide the 
 ladies at once. They will be delighted to take part in a
 
 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 97 
 
 charitable work in which I have no snare. Go and see Madame 
 Rastoil, Madame de Condamin, Madame Delangre, and Madame 
 Paloque. Be sure to see Madame Paloque ; she will feel 
 flattered, and will help you more than all the others. If you 
 find any difficulty about anything come here again and tell 
 me." 
 
 She went out of the room with her daughter to the head of 
 the stairs ; then she stopped and looked her in the face, saying 
 with her sharp, old woman's smile ; 
 
 " I hope the dear Abbe keeps well." 
 
 " Yes, he is very well," replied Marthe. " I am going to 
 Saint-Satumin's, whei'e I am to meet the diocesan architect." 
 
 Marthe and the priest had considered that matters were in 
 too indefinite a stage for them to interfere with the architect's 
 arrangements, and so they had planned just to meet him at 
 Saint-Saturnin's, where he came every day to inspect a chapel 
 that happened to be under repair at the time. It would 
 seem like a chance meeting. When Marthe walked up the 
 church, she caught sight of the Abb^ Faujas and Monsieur 
 Lieutaud talking together on some scaffolding, from which they 
 at once came down upon seeing hei'. One of the Abbe's 
 shoulders was quite white with plaster, and he seemed to be 
 taking a great interest in the opei'ations. 
 
 At this hour of the afternoon, there were no worshippers or 
 penitents in the church, and the nave and aisles were quite 
 deserted, encumbered only by a litter of chairs, which two 
 vergers were noisily arranging in order. "Workmen were call- 
 ing to each other from the tops of ladders, in the midst of the 
 scraping of trowels against the walls. There was so little 
 appearance of devotion about Saint-Saturnin's that Marthe 
 had not even crossed herself. She took a seat opposite to the 
 chapel that was being repaired, between the Abbe Faujas and 
 Monsieur Lieutaud, just in the same way as she would have 
 done if she had gone to consult the latter in his own office. 
 
 The conversation lasted for a good half-hour. The architect 
 showed much kindly interest in the scheme. He advised them, 
 however, not to erect a special building for the Home of the 
 Virgin, as the Abbe called the projected refuge. It would cost 
 too much money, he thought ; and it would be better, he said, 
 to buy some building already in existence, and adapt it to suit 
 the requirements of their scheme. He suggested a liouso in 
 the suburbs which had formerly been used as a boarding- 
 
 G
 
 98 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 
 
 school, and which had been subsequently occupied by a pro- 
 vision merchant, and was now for sale. A few tliousand francs 
 would enable him to entirely transform it and rest(jre it from 
 its present ruinous condition ; and he promised them all kinds 
 of wonderful constructions : a handsome entrance, huge rooms, 
 and a court planted with trees. By degrees, Marthe and tlie 
 priest had raised their voices, and they discussed details 
 beneath the echoing arch of the nave, while Monsieur 
 Lieutaud scratched the flag-stones with the end of his stick to 
 give them an idea of the proposed fa9ade. 
 
 " That is settled, then," said Marthe, as she took leave of 
 the architect. " You will make a little estimate, won't you, 
 so that we may know what we are about ? And please keep 
 our secret, will you 1 " 
 
 The Abbe Faujas went with her as far as the small door of 
 the church. As they passed together before the high-altar, 
 while she was still engaged in briskly talking to him, she was 
 siiddenly surprised to miss him from her side. She turned 
 round to look for him and she saw him bent almost double before 
 the great cross in its muslin veil. The sight of the priest, 
 covered as he was with plaster, bent in this way before the 
 cross, affected her with a singular sensation. She recollected 
 where she was, and glanced round her with an uneasy expres- 
 sion and trod as silently as she could. When they reached 
 the door, the Abbe, who had become very grave and serious, 
 silently reached out to her his finger, which he had dipped in 
 the holy water, and she crossed herself in great disquietude of 
 mind. Then the muffled double-doors fell back softly behind 
 her with a soimd like a suppressed sigh. 
 
 From the church Marthe went to Madame de Condamin's. 
 She felt quite happy as she walked through tlic streets in the 
 fresh air; the few visits that she had now to make seemed to her 
 almost like pleasure-parties. Madame de Condamiu welcomed 
 her with effusive kindliness, and expressed her delight at seeing 
 that dear Madame Mouret who came so seldom. When she 
 learned the business on hand, she declared herself delighted 
 with it, and quite ready to devote herself in every way to 
 furthering it. She was wearing a lovely mauve dress, with 
 knots of pearl-grey ribbon, in that pretty boudoir of hers 
 where she played the part of the exiled Parisian, 
 
 "You were quite right to count upon me," she exclaimed as 
 she pressed Marthe's hands within her own. "Who should
 
 THE CONQITEST OF PLASSANS. 99 
 
 help these poor girls if it isn't we whom they accuse of setting 
 them a bad example by our luxury ? It is frightful to think 
 of these children being exposed to all these horrible dangers 
 and risks. It has made me feel quite ill, I am entirely at 
 yoLir service." 
 
 When Marthe told her that her mother could not join the 
 committee she manifested a still greater enthusiasm for the 
 scheme. 
 
 "It is a great pity that she lias so many things to do," she 
 said with a touch of irony; " she would have been of such great 
 assistance to us. But it can't be helped. No one can do 
 more than they are able. I have plenty of friends. I will go 
 and see the bishop ; and move heaven and earth if it's necessary. 
 I'll promise you that we shall succeed." 
 
 She Avould not listen to any of the details of the alterations 
 or the expenses. She was quite sure, she said, that whatever 
 money was wanted would be fovind, and she meant the Home 
 to be a credit to the committee, and that every part of it 
 should be as handsome and comfortable as possible. She 
 added Avith a laugh that she quite lost her head if she began 
 to dabble in figures ; but she undertook to specially charge 
 herself with the preliminary steps and the general furtherance 
 of the scheme. Dear Madame Mouret, she said, was not 
 accustomed to begging, and she would go with her on her 
 visits and would take several of them off her hands altogether. 
 By the end of a quarter-of-an-hour she had made the business 
 entirely her own, and it was now she who was giving instruc- 
 tions to Marthe. The latter was just about to take her leave 
 when Monsieur de Condamin came into the room ; and she 
 lingered on, feeling ill at ease and not daring to say any more 
 on the subject of her visit in the presence of the conservator 
 of rivers and forests, who, it was rumoured, was compromised 
 in the matter of the poor girls with whose shameful story the 
 town was ringing. 
 
 Madame de Condamin, however, explained the great scheme 
 to her husband, who manifested the most perfect ease, and 
 gave utterance to the most moral sentiments. He considered 
 the scheme an extremely good and proper one, 
 
 " It is an idea which could only have occurred to a mother," 
 he said gravely, in tones which made it impossible to know 
 whether he was serious or not. " Plassans will be indebted 
 to you, madame, for a purer morality."
 
 100 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 
 
 " But I must tell you that the idea is not my own ! I have 
 merely adopted it," Marthe replied, made uneasy by these 
 praises. " It was suggested to me by a person whom I esteem 
 very highly." 
 
 " Who ? " asked Madame de Condamin, with a show of 
 cm'iosity. 
 
 " The Abb(^ Faujas." 
 
 Then Marthe, with great frankness, told them the high 
 opinion she held of the priest. She made no allusion to the 
 unpleasant stories that had been circulated about him, and 
 she represented him as a man worthy of the highest respect, 
 whom she was very happy to receive into her house. Madame 
 de Condamin listened with approving little nods of her head. 
 
 " I have always said so ! " she exclaimed. " The Abbe Faujas 
 is a very distinguished priest. But there are such a lot of 
 malicious people about 1 Now, however, that you receive his 
 visits, they don't venture to say anything more against him, 
 and all this calumnious talk has been cut short. The idea, 
 you say, is his. We shall have to persuade him to take a 
 prominent part in putting it into execution. For the present 
 we will keep the matter very quiet. I can assure you that I 
 always liked and defended the Abb6." 
 
 " I have talked with him, and I thought him a very good 
 fellow," the conservator of rivers and forests interposed. 
 
 His wife silenced him with a gesture. She occasionally 
 treated him in a very cavalier style. By this time, Monsieur de 
 Condamin alone bore all the shame of the equivocal marriage 
 which he was charged with having made ; the young woman, 
 whom he had brought from no one knew where, had succeeded 
 in getting herself pardoned and liked by all the to wnon account 
 of her pleasant ways and taking looks, to which provincial 
 folks are more susceptible than might be imagined. Monsieur 
 de Condamin understood that he was in the way in this virtuous 
 consultation. 
 
 " I will leave you," he said with a slight touch of irony, 
 " to your good designs. I am going to have a cigar. Octavie, 
 don't forget to be dressed in good time. We are going this 
 evening, you know, to the Sub-Prefecture." 
 
 After he had left the room, the two women resumed their 
 convei'sation for a few moments longer, returning to what they 
 had been saying previously, expressing pity for the poor girls 
 who yielded to temptation, and manifesting an anxiety to
 
 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 101 
 
 shelter them from all cUinger. Madame de Comlauiiii inveighed 
 eloquently against vice. 
 
 " Well, then ! " she said, as she pressed Marthe's hand for a 
 last time, "it is all settled, and I am entirely at your service 
 as soon as you call for my help. If you go to see Madame 
 Rastoil and Madame Delangre, tell them that I will under- 
 take to do everything, and that all we want from them is their 
 names. My idea is a good one, don't you think 1 We won't 
 depart a hair's breadth from it. Give my kindest regards to 
 the Abbe Faujas." 
 
 Marthe at once proceeded to call upon Madame Delangre, 
 and then upon Madame Rastoil. She found them botli very 
 polite, but less enthusiastic than Madame de Condamin. 
 They discussed the pecuniary side of the scheme. A large 
 sum of money would be required, they said, and the charity of 
 the public would certainly never provide it, and there was a 
 great risk of the whole business coming to a ridiculous ter- 
 mination. Marthe tried to reassure them and plied them with 
 figures. Then they asked her what ladies had consented to 
 join the committee. The mention of Madame de Condamin's 
 name left them without a word to say, and when they learned 
 that Madame Rougon had excused herself from joining, they 
 became more favourably minded. 
 
 Madame Delangre had received Marthe in her husband's 
 room. She was a tame little woman of a servant-like meek- 
 ness, whose dissoluteness had remained a matter of legend in 
 Plassans. 
 
 " Indeed," she ended by saying, "there is nothing I should 
 like to see better. It would be a school of virtue for the youth 
 of the working-classes, and it would be the means of saving many 
 weak souls. I cannot refuse my assistance, for I feel quite sure 
 I can be of much use from the fact that my husband, as mayor, 
 is brought into continual contact with all the most influential 
 people. But I must ask you to give me till to-morrow before 
 I make a definite reply. Our position requires us to exercise 
 the greatest circumspection, and I should like to consult 
 Monsieur Delangre." 
 
 In Madame Rastoil Marthe found a woman who was very 
 listless and prudish, searching about for irreproachable words 
 in her references to the unfortunate girls who had fallen. She 
 was a sleek, plump person, and was embroidering a very gorgeous 
 alb, sitting between her two daughters, when Marthe entered
 
 102 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 
 
 the room ; but she had sent the girls away at her visitor's first 
 words. 
 
 " I am much obh'ged to you for having thought about me," 
 she said ; " but really I am very much occupied. I am already 
 on several committees a-nd I don't know whether I should have 
 the time. I have had some such an idea as your own mj'self, 
 but my scheme was a larger one and, perhaps, more complete 
 and comprehensive. For a whole month I have been intending 
 to go and talk to the bishop about it, but I have never been 
 able to find the time. Well ! we will unite our efforts, and I 
 will tell you my own views, for I think you are making a mis- 
 take in some points. As it seems necessary, T will surrender 
 still more of my time. It was only yesterday that my husband 
 said to me : ' Really you never attend to your own affairs ; you 
 are always looking after other people's.' " 
 
 Marthe glanced at her curiously, thinking of her old entangle- 
 ment with Monsieur Delangre, which was still chuckled over in 
 the cafes of the Cours Sauvaire. The wives of the mayor and 
 the president had received the mention of the Abbe Faujas's 
 name very suspiciously, the latter especially so. Marthe was. 
 indeed, a little vexed at this exhibition of distrust of a person 
 for whom she vouched ; and so she made a point of dwelling 
 upon the Abbe's good qualities, and forced the two women to 
 acknowledge the merit of this priest who lived a life of retire- 
 ment and supported his mother. 
 
 When she left IMadame Rastoil's, Marthe had only to cross 
 the road to get to Madame Paloque's, who lived on the other 
 side of the Rue Balande. It was seven o'clock, but she was 
 anxious to get this last call paid, even if she had to keep Mouret 
 waiting and get herself scolded in consequence. The Paloques 
 were just going to sit down to table in a chilly dining-room, 
 whose prim coldness and formal neatness spoke of the provinces. 
 Madame Paloque hastened to put back the lid itpon the soup- 
 tureen, from which she had just begun to serve, vexed at being 
 thus found at table. She was very polite, humble almost, 
 though she was really feeling much put-out by a visit which she 
 had not expected Her husband, the judge, sat before his 
 empty plate with his hands upon his knees. 
 
 " The little hussies ! " he exclaimed, when Marthe spoke of 
 the girls of the old quarter of the town. "I have been hearing 
 some nice accounts of them to-day at the court. It was they 
 who led on and enticed some of our most respectable towns-
 
 THE CONQUEST OF PLASRANS. 10.1 
 
 to» 
 
 people to sully themselves with debaiicheiy. Yuu are wroug 
 madame, to interest yourself in such vermin." 
 
 " I am very much afraid," Madame Paloque said in her turn, 
 "that I cannot be of any assistance to you. I know no one, 
 and my hnsbaud would cut his hand off rather than beg for 
 the smallest trifle. We have held ourselves quite aloof, dis- 
 gusted with all the injustices we have witnessed. We live here 
 very quietly and modestly, quite happy to be forgotten and let 
 alone. Even if promotion were offered to my husband now, he 
 would refuse it. Wouldn't you, my dear 1 " 
 
 The judge nodded his head in assent. They both exchanged 
 a slight smile, while Marthe sat ill at case in the presence of 
 these two hideous faces, seamed and livid with gall and bitter- 
 ness, whose owners played so well into each other's hands in 
 this little comedy of feigned resiguation. Fortunately she 
 called to mind her mother's counsels. 
 
 " I had quite counted upon you," she said, making herself 
 very pleasant. " We shall have Madame Delaugre, Madame 
 Rastoil, and Madame de Condamin • but, between ourselves, these 
 ladies will only give us their names. I should have liked to 
 find some lady of good position and kindly, charitable disposi- 
 tion, who would have taken a stronger interest and shown more 
 energy in the matter, and I thought that you would be the 
 very person. Think what gratitude Plassans will owe us if we 
 can only bring such an undertaking to a successful issue ! " 
 
 " Of courie, of course ! " Madame Paloque murmured, 
 quite delighted at Marthe's insinuating words. 
 
 " I am sure you are wrong in fancying that you are without 
 any power to assist us. It is very well known that Monsieur 
 Paloque is a great favourite at the Sub- Prefecture ; and between 
 ourselves I may say that he is intended to succeed Monsieur 
 Rastoil. Ah, now ! don't try to depreciate yourselves ; your 
 merits are very well known, and it is no use your trying to hide 
 them. This would be a very good opportunity for Madame 
 Paloque to emerge a little from the obscurity and privacy in 
 which she keeps herself, and to let the world see the head and 
 the heart she has got." 
 
 The judge seemed to be much exercised in mind. Ho 
 looked at his wife with his blinking eyes. 
 
 " Madame Paloque has not refused," he said. 
 
 " No, certainly not," interposed the latter. " Tf you really 
 stand in need of me, that settles the matter. I daresay I am
 
 104 THE CONQUiiST OF PLASSANS. 
 
 only going to be guilty of another piece of folly, and give 
 myself a lot of trouble without ever getting a word of thanks 
 for it. Monsieur Paloque can tell you of all the good works 
 we've done without even saying a word about them ; and you 
 can see for yourself what they've brought us to. Well, well, 
 Ave can't change ourselves, and I suppose we shall go on being 
 dupes to the end ! You may count ujion me, my dear 
 madame." 
 
 The Paloques rose and Marthe took leave of them, thanking 
 them for their kindly interest. As she stopped for a moment 
 on the landing to liberate a flounce of her dress which had 
 caught between the balustrade and the steps, she heard them 
 talking with animation on the other side of the closed door. 
 
 " They want to enlist you because they want to make 
 use of you," the judge was saying in a sharp voice. " You 
 will be their beast of burden." 
 
 "Of course!" replied his wife, "but you maybe sm-e I'll 
 make them pay for it with the rest ! " 
 
 When Marthe at last got back home, it was nearly eight 
 o'clock. Mouret had been waiting for a whole half-hour for 
 his dinner, and she was afraid that there would be a terrible 
 scene. But, when she had undressed and came downstairs, 
 she found her husband sitting astride an over-turned chair 
 tranquilly beating a tattoo on the table-cloth with his fingers. 
 He was terribly full of teasing and banter, 
 
 " Well," he said, " I had quite made up my mind that you 
 were going to spend the night in a confessional-box. Now 
 that you have taken to going to church, you had better give 
 me notice when you are invited by the priests, so that I can 
 dine out." 
 
 All through the dinner he indulged in pleasantries and 
 witticisms of this kind, and Marthe was much more distressed 
 by them than if he had openly stormed at her. Two or three 
 times she cast a supplicating glance at him and seemed to 
 be beseeching him to leave her at peace. But her looks 
 only appeared to whet his appetite for further similar banter. 
 Octave and Desiree were laughing, but Serge was silent and 
 mentally took his mother's side. During dessert Rose came 
 into the room, looking quite scared, and said that Monsieur 
 Delangre had come and wanted to see madame. 
 
 " Hallo ! have you begun to associate with the authorities 
 as well ] " Mouret sniggered in his sneering fashion.
 
 THE CONQUEST OF TLASSANS. 105 
 
 Marthe went into the drawing-room to receive the mayor's 
 visit. With much polite courtesy the latter told her that he 
 had felt unwilling to wait till the next day to come and con- 
 gratulate her upon her charitable and noble idea. Madame 
 Delaugre was a little timid ; she was wrong in not having 
 immediately promised her co-operation, and he had come now 
 to say in her name that she would be delighted to serve on the 
 committee of lady patronesses of the Home of the Virgin. 
 As for himself, he would certainly do all he could to further 
 the success of a scheme that would be so useful and so con- 
 ducive to morality. 
 
 Marthe accompanied him to the street-door. There, as Rose 
 held up the lamp to light the foot-patli, the mayor added : 
 
 " Will you tell the Abbe Faujas that I shall be glad to have 
 a little conversation with him, if he will kindly come and see 
 me 1 As he has had experience of an establishment of this 
 kind at BesauQon, he will be able to give me some valuable 
 information. I mean the town to pay at any rate the building 
 expenses. Good-bye, dear madame ; give my best compli- 
 ments to Monsieur Mouret, whom I won't disturb just now." 
 
 When the Abbe Faujas came down with his mothei" at eight 
 o'clock, Mouret merely said to him, with a laugh : 
 
 " So you walked my wife off to-day, eh 1 Well, don't 
 spoil her for me too much, and don't make a saint of 
 her." 
 
 Then he absorbed himself in the game. He was going to 
 engage in a terrible struggle with Madame Faujas, who was 
 burning for revenge after suffering defeat for three evenings ; 
 and so Marthe was left quite free to tell the Abbe all she had 
 done during the day. She seemed full of a child-like pleasure 
 and was quite excited with the afternoon she had spent out. 
 The Abbe made her repeat certain details, and he promised to 
 go and sec Monsieur Dclangre, although he would have pre- 
 ferred remaining completely in the background. 
 
 " You were wrong to mention my name at all," he said, as he 
 saw her so excited and unreserved ; " but you are like all other 
 women, and the best causes would be spoilt in your hands." 
 
 She looked at him in surprise at this blunt exclamation, 
 retiring within herself and feeling that thrill of fear which she 
 still occasionally experienced in the presence of his cassock. 
 She felt as thougli iron hands were being laid upon her 
 shoulders and were forcing her into compliance with their
 
 106 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 
 
 wishes. Every priest looks upon woman as an enemy, but 
 when the Abbe saw that she was hurt by his too stern reproof, 
 he softened his tones and said : 
 
 " I think only for the success of your noble design. I am 
 afraid that I should only compromise it, if I myself were to 
 appear in it. You know very well that I am not a favourite in 
 the town." 
 
 Marthe, seeing him so humble, assured him that he was 
 mistaken and that all the ladies had spoken of him in the 
 highest terms. They knew that he was supporting his mother, 
 and that he led a quiet and retired life worthy of the greatest 
 praise. Then they talked over the great scheme, dwelling on 
 the smallest details, till eleven o'clock struck. It liad been a 
 delightful evening. 
 
 Mouret had caught a word or two now and then between 
 the deals. 
 
 " Well, then," ho said, as they were going to bed, " so you 
 two are going to do away with vice ] It's a splendid idea." 
 
 Three days later the committee of lady patronesses was 
 formally constituted. The ladies having elected Marthe as 
 president, she, upon her mother's advice, which she had 
 privately sought, immediately named Madame Paloque as 
 treasurer. They both gave themselves a great deal of trouble 
 in directing cii'culars and looking after a host of other little 
 details. In the meantime, Madame de Condamin had gone 
 from the Sub-Prefecture to the bishop's, and from the bishop's 
 to the hoiises of various other influential persons, explaining in 
 her pretty fashion "the happy idea that had occurred to her," 
 exhibiting some lovely toilettes, and carrying off subscriptions 
 and promises of assistance. Madame Rastoil, on the other 
 hand, told the priests who came to her house on the Tuesday 
 how she had formed a plan for rescuing the unfortunate girls 
 from vice, and then contented herself by charging the Abbe 
 Bourrette to make inquiries of the Sisters of Saint-Joseph if 
 they would be willing to come and serve in the projected re- 
 fuge ; while Madame Delangre confided to the little company 
 of functionaries that the town was indebted for the Home to 
 her husband, to whose kindness the committee already owed a 
 room in the mayoral residence, where they could meet and 
 deliberate at their ease. Plassans was speedily excited through- 
 out by tliis pious turmoil, and soon there was nothing spoken 
 of but the Home of the Virgin. There was an outburst of
 
 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 107 
 
 praises, and the friends of each of the lady patronesses made 
 up a little party of their own, each little party working strenu- 
 ously for the success of the undertaking. Subscription lists 
 were opened in all the three quarters of the town within a 
 week, and as the "Plassaus Gazette" published these lists with 
 the amount of the subscriptions, a feeling of pride was 
 awakened, and the most notable families contended with each 
 other as to which should be the most generous. 
 
 In the midst of all the talk on the subject Abbe Faujas's 
 name frequently cropped up. iVlthough each of the lady 
 patronesses claimed the idea as originally her own, there was a 
 prevailing belief that it was the Abbe who had brought it with 
 him fiom Besaugon. Monsieur Delangre made an express 
 statement to this effect to the municipal council at the meeting 
 when they voted the purchase of the building which the 
 diocesan architect had s iggested as being most suited to the 
 requirements of the Home. The previous evening the mayor 
 had had a very lengthy conversation with the priest, and as 
 they parted they had exchanged a prolonged grasp of the 
 hand. The mayor's secretary had even heard them call each 
 other " my dear sir." This brought about quite a revolution 
 in the Abbe's favour. From that time he had a group of 
 partizans who defended him against the attacks of his enemies. 
 
 The Alourets, besides, had vouched for the Abbe Faujas's 
 character. Supported by Marthe's friendship, and recognised 
 as the originator of a good work, which he modestly refused to 
 acknowledge as his own, he no longer manifested in the streets 
 that appearance of humility which had led him to withdraw 
 himself as much as possible from observation by keeping within 
 the shadow of the houses. He showed his new cassock bravely 
 in the sun and walked along on the middle of the causeway. 
 As he went from the Rue Balande to Saint-Saturnin's he had 
 now to return a great number of bows. One Sunday Madame 
 de Condamin stopped him after Vespers in the Place in front 
 of the bishop's house and kept him talking with her there for 
 a good half-hour. 
 
 " Well, your reverence," Mouret said to him with a laugh, 
 " you are quite in the odour of sanctity now. One would 
 scarcely think that not six months ago I was the only one to 
 say a good word for you ! But if I were you I shouldn't trust 
 too much to it all; you have still the bishop's set against you." 
 
 The priest shrug'^ed his shoulders slightly. He knew quite
 
 108 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 
 
 well that what hostility he still met with came from the clergy. 
 TIic Abbe Fenil kept Monseigneur Rousselot trembling beneath 
 the rough strength of his will. When tlie former, about the 
 end of March, left Plassans to make a short visit, the Abbe 
 Faujas profited by his absence to make several calls upon the 
 bishop. The Abbe Surin, the bishop's private secretary, re- 
 ported that the " wretched man " had been closeted for hours 
 together witli his lordship, and that the latter had manifested 
 an atrocious temper after the interview. When the Abb^ 
 Fenil returned, the Abbe Faujas discontinued his visits, and 
 again suppressed himself in the former's presence. But the 
 bishop still showed himself very much disturbed, and it was 
 quite evident that something had occurred to upset the care- 
 less prelate's ease of mind. At a dinner which he gave to his 
 clergy he showed himself particularly friendly to the Abbe 
 Faujas, who was still only a humble curate at Saint-Saturnin's. 
 The Abbe Fenil compressed his thin lips still more tightly, and 
 his penitents filled him with suppressed anger when they 
 politely asked him how he was. 
 
 The Abbe Faujas now manifested a complete serenity. He 
 still continued his severe life, but he seemed permeated with a 
 pleasant ease of mind. It was on a Tuesday evening that he 
 triumphed definitively. He was looking out of the window of 
 his own room, enjoying the early warmth of the spring, when 
 Monsieur Pequeuer des Saulaies's guests came into the garden 
 and bowed to him from the distance. Madame de Condamin 
 was there, and she carried her familiarity so far as to wave her 
 handkerchief to him. Just at the same time, on the other side, 
 Monsieur Rastoil's guests came to sit on some rustic seats in 
 front of the water-fall. Monsieur Delangre was able to look 
 from the terrace of the Sub-Prefecture across Mouret's garden, 
 and to see what w^as going on in the judge's grounds, owing 
 to the difference of the levels. 
 
 " You will see," he said, " that they won't deign even to 
 notice him." 
 
 But he was wrong. The Abbe Fenil, having turned his head 
 as though by chance, took off his hat, and then all the other 
 priests who were there did the same, and the Abbe Faujas re- 
 turned their salute. Then, after having glanced slowly over 
 the two sets of guests on his right hand and on his left, he 
 withdrew from the Avindow and drew the white curtains with 
 scrupulous exactitude.
 
 109 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 The month of April was very mild and warm, and in the even- 
 iwa, after dinner, the young Mourets went to amuse them- 
 selves in the garden. Marthe and the priest, too, as they found 
 the dining-room becoming very close, also went out on to the 
 terrace. They sat a few yards away from the window, which 
 was kept wide open, just outside the stream of bright light 
 which the lamp poured out on to the tall hedges of box. There, 
 in the deepening dusk, they discussed all the little details con- 
 nected with the Home of the Virgin. This constant preoccupa- 
 tion with charitable matters seemed to give a tone of additional 
 softness to their conversation. In front of them, between 
 Monsieur Rastoil's huge pear-trees and the dusky chestnuts of 
 the Sub-Prefecture, there was a large patch of open sky. The 
 yoimg people sported about under the arbours, while every now 
 and then the voices of Mouret and Madame Faujas, who were 
 left alone in the dining-room deeply absorbed in their game, 
 could be heard raised in slight altercation. 
 
 Sometimes Ma the, full of a tender emotion and penetrated 
 with a gentle languor that made her words fall slowly from her 
 lips, would check her speech as she caught sight of the golden 
 train of some shooting star, and smile as she leaned her head 
 back a little and looked up at the heavens. 
 
 " There's another soul leaving purgatory and entei'ing para- 
 dise ! " she munnured. 
 
 Then, as the priest kept silent, she added : 
 
 " How pretty they are, these little beliefs ! One ought to be 
 always able to remain a little girl, your reverence." 
 
 She no longer now mended the family linen in the evenings. 
 She would have had to light a lamp on the teiTacc to be able 
 to see to do it, and she preferred the dusky shadow of the warm 
 night, which seemed to thrill her with a peaceful happiness ; 
 and, besides, she now went out every da}'-, which fatigued her, 
 and when dinner was over she did not feel energetic enough to
 
 110 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 
 
 take up her needle. Rose had be n obhged to undertake the 
 mending, as Mouret was beginning to complain that his socks 
 were all in holes. 
 
 Marthe was, indeed, very biisy. Besides the meetings of the 
 committee over which she presided, she had numerous other 
 things to attend to, visits to make, and superintendence to ex- 
 ercise. She deputed much of the necessary writing and other 
 little matters to Madame Paloque ; but she was so anxious and 
 eager to see the Home actually established and in working 
 order, that she went off to the suburb in which the building 
 was situated three times a week, to make sure that the work- 
 men were not wasting their time. When she thought that 
 satisfactory progress was not being made, she hurried off to 
 Saint-Saturnin's to find the architect, and grumbled to him and 
 begged him not to leave the men without his supervision, grow- 
 ing quite jealous, indeed, of the works which were being exe- 
 cuted in the church, and considering that the repairs of the 
 chapel were being much too quickly pushed forward. Monsieur 
 Lieutaud smiled, and assured her that everything would be 
 completed within the stipulated time. 
 
 The Abbe Faujas, too, protested that sufficient progress was 
 not being made, and he urged Marthe not to give the architect 
 a moment's peace, and so she ended by going to Saint-Saturnin's 
 every day. She went into the church with her brain full of 
 figures, and preoccupied vvith the consideration of walls that 
 had to be pulled down and rebuilt. The chilliness of the church 
 cooled down her excitement a little. She dipped her fingers in 
 the holy water and crossed herself to do as the people did. 
 The vergers grew to know her and bow to her, and she herself 
 became quite familiar with the different chapels and the sacristy, 
 where she sometimes had to go to find the Abbe Faujas, and the 
 wide corridor and low cloisters through which she had to pass. 
 At the end of a month there was not a corner in Saint-Saturnin's 
 which she did not know v/ell. Scjietimes she had to wait for 
 the architect, and then she would sit down in some retired 
 chapel and rest herself after her hurried walk, going over in 
 her mind the host of things which she wanted to impress upon 
 Monsieur Lieutaud; and then the deep, palpitating silence which 
 surrounded her, and the dim religious light of the stained-glass 
 windows, gradually plunged her into a kind of vague, soft 
 reverie. She began to love the lofty arches and the solemn 
 nakedness of the walls, 1 he altars draped in their protecting
 
 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. Ill 
 
 covers, and the chairs all arranged in order; and as soon as the 
 muffled double doors swung to behind her, she began to ex- 
 perience a feeling of supreme restfulness, a forgetfulness of all 
 the wear}' cares of the world, and a perfect peace throughout her 
 whole being. 
 
 " Saint-Saturnin's is such a pleasant place," she let slip one 
 evening before her husband, after a close, sultry day. 
 
 " Would you like us to go and sleep there 1 " Mouret asked, 
 with a laugh. 
 
 Marthe felt hurt. The feeling of purely physical happiness 
 which she experienced in the church began to distress her as 
 being something inopportune and improper ; and it was with a 
 slight feeling of trouble that she henceforward entered Saint- 
 Saturnin's, trying to force herself to remain indifferent and un- 
 influenced by her surroundings, j ust as she would have been in 
 the great rooms of the mayor's residence ; but in spite of herself 
 she was deeply affected with a thrilling emotion. It caused her 
 distress, but it was a distress to which she willingly returned. 
 
 The Abbe Faujas manifested no consciousness of the slow 
 awakening which was every day increasingly going on within 
 her. He still retained towards her his demeanour of a busy, 
 obliging man, putting heaven on one side. He never showed 
 anything of the priest. Sometimes, however, she would catch 
 him as he was going to read the burial office ; and lie would 
 speak to her for a moment between a couple of pillars in his 
 surplice, that breathed out a vague odour of incense and wax 
 tapers. It was frequently merely a bricklayer's bill or some de- 
 mand of a carpenter that they spoke about, and the priest 
 would just tell her the exact figures and then hurry away to 
 accompany the funeral ; while she stayed on therC; lingering in 
 the empty nave, where one of the vergers was extinguishing the 
 candles. When the Abbe Faujas, as he crossed the church with 
 lier, bowed before the high-altar, she had acquired the habit of 
 bowing likewise, at first out of a feeling of mere propriety, but 
 afterwards the action had become mechanical, and she bowed 
 when she was quite alone. Up to this time this act of reverence 
 had comprised all her devotion. Two or three times she had 
 come to the church on days of high functions, without having 
 been previously aware of them ; but when she saw that the 
 church was full of worsliippers and heard the pealing of the 
 organ, she hurried away, thrilled with a sudden fear and not 
 daring to enter the door.
 
 112 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 
 
 " Well ! " Mom-et would frequently ask her with his snigger- 
 ing laugh, " when do you mean to be confirmed ? " 
 
 He was perpetually bantering her, but she never replied to 
 him, only fixing upon him the gaze of her eyes, in which a 
 passing brightness glistened wheii he went too far. By degrees 
 he became more bitter as he grew tired of mocking at her ; 
 and by the end of a month he became quite angry and irrit- 
 able. 
 
 " What sense is there in going and mixing yourself up with 
 a lot of priests 1 " he would growl at times when his dinner 
 was not ready when he wanted it. " You are for ever away 
 from home now, and there's no keeping you in the house for an 
 hour at a time ! I shouldn't mind myself, if everything weren't 
 going to pieces here. I never get any of my things mended, 
 the table is not even laid by seven o'clock, there's no making 
 anything out of Kose, and the whole house is left open to 
 thieves." 
 
 He picked up a duster that was lying about, locked up a 
 bottle of wine that had been left out, and began to wipe the 
 dust off the furniture with his fingers, working himself up to a 
 higher pitch of anger as he cried : 
 
 " There'll be nothing left for me soon but to take up a broom 
 myself and put an apron on ! You would see me do it without 
 disturbing yourself, I know ! I might do all the work of the 
 house without your being any the wiser for it indeed ! Do you 
 know that I spent a couple of hours this morning in put- 
 ting this wardrobe in order ] No, my good woman, things can't 
 go on any longer in this way ! " 
 
 At other times there was a disturbance about the children. 
 Once when Mouret came home he found Desiree " wallowing 
 like a young pig " in the garden, where she was quite alone, and 
 lying on her stomach before an ant-hole, trying to find out what 
 the ants were doing in the ground. 
 
 " We may be very thankful, I'm sure, that you don't sleep 
 away from the house as well ! " he cried as soon as he cavight 
 sight of his wife. " Come and look at your daughter ! I wouldn't 
 let her change her dress that you might see what a pretty sight 
 she is." 
 
 The girl was crying bitterly while her father kept turning her 
 round. 
 
 " Look at her now ! Isn't she a nice spectacle 1 This is the 
 way children go on when they are left to themselves ! It isn't
 
 THE CONQUEST OF TLASSANS. 113 
 
 her faiilt, poor little innocent ! Once you wouldn't leave her 
 alone for five minutes ; she would be getting to the fire, you 
 said ! Yes, I expect she will be getting to the fire now, and 
 everything will be burnt up, and then there'll be an end of it 
 all ! " 
 
 When Rose had taken Desir^e away, he continued : 
 "You live now only for other people's children. You can't 
 give a moment to yoiir own ! What a goose you must be to go 
 knocking yourc;elf up for a parcel of drabs who only laxigh at 
 you and make their assignations in every hole and corner of the 
 ramparts ! Go and walk there any evening and you will sea 
 them Avith their petticoats over their heads, these pretty hussies 
 that you talk about putting under the protection of the 
 Virgin ! " 
 
 He stopped to take breath and then went on again : 
 " See that Desiree is properly taken care of before yon go 
 picking up girls from the gutter ! There are holes as big as 
 my fist in her dress. One of these days we shall be finding her 
 in the garden with a leg or an arm broken. I don't say any- 
 thing about Octave or Serge, thougli I sl^nild much prefer your 
 being at home when they came back from the college. They 
 are up to all kinds of diabolical tricks. Only yesterday they 
 cracked a couple of flag-stones out on the terrace by letting off" 
 crackers. I tell you that if you don't keep yourself at home we 
 shall find the whole house blown to bits one of these days ! " 
 
 Marthe said a few words in self-defence. She was obliged to 
 go out, slie lu'ged. There was no doubt that Mouret, who Avas 
 possessed of an ample fund of common-sense, in spite of his 
 proclivities for teasing and jeering, was right. The house was 
 getting into a most unsatisfactory condition. This quiet spot, 
 where the sun was setting so peacefully, was becoming uproari- 
 ous, left to look after itself and suflfering from the riotous noisi- 
 ness of the children, the bursts of temper of the father and the 
 careless, inditferent lassitude of the mother. In the evening, at 
 table, they all dined badly and quarrelled amongst themselves. 
 Rose only did just what she liked, and she was of opinion, be- 
 sides, that her mistress was quite in the right. 
 
 Matters reached such a point at last that Mouret, happening 
 to meet his mother-in-law, complained to her bitterly of Marthe's 
 conduct, althoujib ho was quite aware of the pleasure he w:^,s 
 affording tlie old lady by discoverii.g to her the troubles of hia 
 household.
 
 114 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 
 
 " You astonish me extremely ! " Felicite replied with a 
 smile. " Marthe always seemed to me to be afraid of you, and 
 I considered her even too yielding and obedient. A woman 
 ought not to tremble before her husband." 
 
 " Ah, yes, indeed ! " Mouret cried, with a hopeless look, 
 " once she would have sunk into the ground to avoid a quarrel ; 
 a mere glance was sufficient, and she did everything I desired. 
 But that's all quite altered now. I may remonstrate and shout 
 as much as I like, but she will only go her own way, for all 
 that. She doesn't make any reply, and she hasn't, it is true, 
 yet got to flying out at me, but that will come, I daresay, by- 
 and-by." 
 
 Felicite replied with some hypocrisy : 
 
 " I will speak to Marthe if you like. But it might, perhaps, 
 hurt her if I did. Matters of this kind are better coutined be- 
 tween husband and wife. I don't feel very uneasy about them ; 
 you'll soon get back again, I've no doubt, all the quiet peaceful- 
 ness of which you used to be so proud." 
 
 Mouret shook his head with downcast eyes. 
 
 " No ! no ! " he said; " I know myself too well. I can make 
 a noise, but that does no good. In reality I am as weak 
 as a child. People are quite wrong in supposing that I have 
 had my own way with my wife by force. She has generally 
 done what I wanted her to do, because slie was quite indifferent 
 about everything, and would as soon do one thing as another. 
 Mild as she looks, she is very obstinate, I can tell you. Well, 
 I must try to make the best of it." 
 
 Then, raising his eyes, he added : 
 
 " It would have been better if I had not said anything about 
 all this to you; but you won't mention it to any one, will you'?" 
 
 When Marthe went to see her mother the next day, the 
 latter received her with some show of coldness, and said to her: 
 
 "It is wrong of you, my dear, to show yourself so neglectful 
 of your husband. I saw him yesterday and he is quite angry 
 about it. I am quite aware that he often behaves himself in 
 a very ridicvilous manner, but that does not justify you in 
 neglecting your house." 
 
 Marthe fixed her eyes upon her mother. 
 
 " Ah ! he has been complaining about me ! " she said shortly. 
 "The least he could do would be to be silent,yfor I never com- 
 plain about him." 
 
 Then she began to talk of other matters, but Madame Rou-
 
 THE CONQUEST OF TLASSANS. 115 
 
 gon brought her back to the subject of her husband by asking 
 about the Abbe Faujas. 
 
 " Perhaps Mouret isu't very fond of the Abbe, and so he finds 
 fault with you in consequence. Is that so, do you think 1 " 
 
 Marthe showed great surprise. 
 
 " What an idea ! " she exchiimed. " What makes you think 
 that my husband doesn't like the Abbe Faujas 1 He has cer- 
 tainly never said anything to me ^^hich would lead me to ima- 
 gine such a thing. He hasn't said anything to you, has he ] 
 Oh no ! you are quite mistaken. He would go and find them 
 up in their own rooms, if the mother didn't come down to have 
 her game with him." 
 
 Mouret, indeed, never opened his mouth about the Abbe 
 Faujas. He joked him a little bluntly sometimes^ and he occa- 
 sionally brought his name into the teasing banter with which 
 he tormented his wife, but that was all. 
 
 One morning, as he was shaving, he exclaimed to Marthe : 
 
 " I'll tell you what, my dear; if ever you go to confession, 
 take the Abbe for your director, and then your sins will, at 
 any rate, be kept amongst ourselves." 
 
 The Abbe Faujas heard confessions on Tuesdays and Fridays. 
 On these days Marthe used to avoid going to Saint-Saturnin's. 
 She alleged that she did not want to disturb him : but she was 
 really rather acting under the influence of that species of timid 
 uneasiness which disquieted her when she saw him in his surplice 
 that exhaled the mysterious odoiar of the sacristy. One Friday, 
 she went with Madame de Condamin to see how the works at 
 the Home of the Virgin were getting on. The men were just 
 finishing the frontage. Madame de Condamin found fault with 
 the ornamentation, which, she said, was mean and characterless. 
 There ought to have been, she urged, two slender columns with 
 a pointed arch, something that was at once light and religious- 
 looking, a design that would be a credit to the committee of 
 lady patronesses. Marthe hesitated for a time, but she gradu- 
 ally gave way before Madame de Condamin's remarks, and at 
 last allowed that the design was a very poor one. Then as the 
 latter pressed her, she promised to speak to Monsieur Lieutaud 
 on the subject that very day. In order that she might l<eep 
 her promise, she went to the cathedral before returning home. 
 It was four o'clock when she got there, and the architect had 
 just left. When she asked for the Abbe Faujas, a verger told 
 her that he was hearing confessions in the chapel of Saint
 
 116 THE OONQITEST OF PLASSANS. 
 
 Aurelia. Then for the first time she recollected what day it 
 was, and she said that she conld not wait. But as she was 
 passing- the chapel of Saint Aurelia on her way out, she 
 thought that the Abbe might, perhaps, have caught sight of 
 her. The truth was that she was feeling a singular faintness, 
 and she sat down outside the chapel, near the railing, and re- 
 mained there. 
 
 The sky was dusking over, and the church was filled with a 
 misty gloom. In the aisles, that were already shrouded in 
 darkness, here and there gleamed a lamp, or the glitter of 
 some gilt candelabrum, or the sheen of some Virgin's silver 
 robe; and a pale stream of liglit filtered through the great nave 
 and died away on the polished oak of the stalls and benches. 
 Marthe had never before felt herself so completely overcome 
 there. Her legs seemed to have lost all their strength, and 
 her hands were so heavy that she clasped them across her knees 
 to save herself from having to support their weight. She 
 allowed herself to drift into a condition of drowsiness, in which 
 she still continued to hear and see, but in a very soft and sub- 
 dued fashion. The slight somids which were wafted along be- 
 neath the vaulted arch, the falling of a chair, the slow step of 
 some worshipper, all seemed to affect her with a soft emotion, 
 and assumed a musical tone which thrilled her to the heart ; 
 while the last dying glimmer of the daylight and the dusky 
 shadows that crept up the pillars like covers of crape assumed 
 in lier eyes all the delicate tints of shot silk, and she gradually 
 fell into a state of exquisite languor, in which her whole being- 
 seemed to melt aw'ay and die. Then everything around her 
 appeared to vanish, and slie was tlii'illed with a perfect happi- 
 ness in some strange, trance-like condition. 
 
 The sound of a voice awoke her fr^m this state of ecstasy. 
 
 " 1 am very sorry," said tlie Abbe Faujas; " I saw you, but I 
 could not get away." 
 
 Then she appeared to wake up with a start. She looked at 
 him. He was standing before her in the dying light in his 
 surplice. His last penitent had just gone away, and the empty 
 church seemed to be growing still more solemn. 
 
 " You want to speak to me 'i " he asked. 
 
 Marthe made an effort to recall her thoughts. 
 
 " Yes," she murmured ; " but I can't remember now. Ah 
 yes ! it is about the frontage, which Madame de Condamin 
 thinks too mean. There ought to be two columns instead of
 
 THE CONQUEST OF TLASSANS. 117 
 
 that characterless flat door. And tliey might put a pointed arch 
 filled with stained glass. It would look very pretty. You 
 understand what I mean, don't you ] " 
 
 He gazed at her scrutiiiizingh', standing over her with his 
 hands crossed outside his surplice, and bending down towards 
 her his grave face ; and she, still seated and without the 
 stl-ength to get on to her feet, was stammering confusedly, 
 as though she had been taken unawares while her mind was 
 slumbering in a sleep which she could not shake oft'. 
 
 "It woiild entail additional expense, of course; but we 
 might jiist have them of soft stone with a simple moulding. 
 We might speak about it to the foi'eman, and he will tell us how 
 much it will cost. But we had better pay him Ids last account 
 first. It is two thousand one hundred and odd francs, I think. 
 We have the money in hand ; Madame Paloque told me so this 
 morning. There will be no difiiculty about that, your rever- 
 ence." 
 
 She drooped her head, as though she felt oppressed by the 
 gaze that was bent upon her. When she raised it again and 
 met the priest's eyes, she clasped her hands together, after tlie 
 manner of a child seeking pardon, and she burst into sobs. 
 The priest allowed her to weep, still standing in silence in front 
 of her. Then she fell on her knees before him, weeping behind 
 her hands, with which she covered her face. 
 
 " Get up, I beg of you," the Abbe Faujas said softly. " It is 
 before God tliat you should go and kneel." 
 
 He helped her to rise and he sat down by her side. Then 
 they talked together for a long time in low tones. The niglit 
 l>ad now fully fallen, and the golden specks of the lamps gleamed 
 through the black depths of the church. The murmur of their 
 voices alone sent a quiver through the silence in front of the 
 chapel of Saint Aurelia. The priest's flowing words streamed 
 out in long sequence after each of Marthe's weak and broken 
 replies ; and when at last they rose, he seemed to be refusing 
 her some favour which she was seeking with persistence ; then 
 leading her towards the door, he raised his voice as ho 
 said : 
 
 " No ! I cannot, I assure you I cannot. It would be better 
 for you to take the Abbe Bourrctte." 
 
 " I am in great need of your advice," Mavthe murmured, be- 
 seechingly. " I think tiiat with your help everytliing would 
 he easy to me."
 
 118 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 
 
 " You are mistaken," he replied, in harsher tones. "On the 
 contrary, I fear tliat my direction would l^e prejudicial to you 
 to begin with. The Abb6 Bourrette is tlie priest you want, I 
 can assure you. Later on, I may perhaps give you a different 
 reply." 
 
 Marthe obeyed the priest's injunctions, and the next day the 
 worshippers at Saint-Saturnin's were surprised to_ see Madame 
 Mouret go and kneel before the Abbe Bourrette's confessional. 
 Two days later there was nothing spoken of in Plassans but 
 this conversion. The Abb^ Faujas's name was pronounced 
 with subtle smiles by certain people, but altogether the general 
 impression was a good one and in favour of the Al)be. Madame 
 Rastoil complimented Madame Mouret in full committee, and 
 Madame Delangre professed to see in the matter a first bless- 
 ing of God in reward to the lady patronesses for their good 
 work in touching the heart of the only one amongst them who 
 did not conform with the requirements of religion; while 
 Madame de Condamin, taking Marthe aside, said to her : 
 
 " You have done very rightly, my dear. What you have 
 done is a necessity for a woman ; and as soon as one begins to 
 go out a little, it is necessary to go to church." 
 
 Tiie only matter of astonishment was her choice of the Abb6 
 Bourrette. The worthy man almost altogether confined him- 
 self to hearing the confessions of young girls. The ladies found 
 him " so very uninteresting." On the Thursday at the Rougons' 
 before Marthe's arrival, the matter was talked over in a corner 
 of the green drawing-room, and it was Madame Paloque's wasp- 
 ish tongue that had the last word. 
 
 " The Abbe Faujas has done quite rightly in not keeping her 
 himself," she said, with a twist of her mouth that made her 
 still more hideous than usual ; " the Abbe Bourrette is very 
 successful in saving souls, and there is nothing unpleasant 
 about him." 
 
 When Marthe came that day her mother stepped up to meet 
 her, and kissed her affectionately with some ostentation before 
 the company. She herself ^had made her peace with God on 
 the morrow of the Coup d'Etat. She was of opinion that the 
 Abbe Faujas might now venture to show himself again in the 
 green di-awing-room ; but he excused himself, making a 
 pretext of his work and his love of privacy. Madame Rongon 
 fancied she could see that he was scheming for a triumphal 
 return in the following winter. The Abbe's success was
 
 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 119 
 
 graaually growing greater. For the first few months his only 
 penitents had come from the vegetable-market that was helJ 
 at the back of the cathedral, poor costermongers, whose dialect 
 he had quietly listened to without always being able to under- 
 stand it ; but now, especially since all the talk there had been 
 in connection with the Home of the Virgin, he had a crowd of 
 well-to-do citizens' wives and daughters dressed in silk kneeling 
 before his confessional-box. When Marthe had quietly men- 
 tioned that he would not receive her amongst his penitents, 
 Madame de Condamin had a sudden whim, and she deserted 
 her director, the senior curate of Saint-Saturnin's, who was 
 greatly distressed thereby, and transferred her confessions to 
 the Abbe Faujas. Such a distinction as this gave the latter a 
 firm position in Plassans society. 
 
 When Mouret learned that his wife went to confession, he 
 merely said to her : 
 
 " You have been doing something wrong lately, I suppose, 
 since you find it necessary to go and tell all your affairs to a 
 parson 1 " 
 
 In the midst of all this pious excitement he seemed to be still 
 further isolating himself and shutting himself up in his own 
 narrow and monotonous life. When his wife reproached him for 
 his complaints to her mother, he answered : 
 
 " Yes, you are right, I suppose ; it was wrong of me. It is 
 foolish to give people jjleasure by telling them of one's troubles. 
 However, I promise you that I won't give your mother this 
 satisffiction a second time. I have been thinking matters over, 
 and the house may topple down on our heads before I'll go 
 whimpering to anyone again." 
 
 From that time he never made any disparaging remarks 
 about the management of the house or scolded his wife in the 
 presence of any one, but professed himself, as he had been used 
 ■ to do, the happiest of men. This eflbrt of sound sense cost 
 him very little, for he saw that it would tend to his comfort, 
 which was the object of his constant thoughts. He even 
 exaggerated his assumption of the part of a contented methodical 
 citizen who took a pleasure in existence. Marthe was only 
 made aware of the impatience he was feeling by his restless 
 pacings up and down. For whole weeks he refrained from all 
 jeers or fault-finding as far as she was concerned, while upon 
 Rose and his children he constantly poured out his jeering 
 diatribes, blowing them up from raorniug to night for the
 
 120 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 
 
 slightest shortcomings. If ho did anything that hurt his wife's 
 feelings it was generally done thruugh inadvertence, and she 
 herself was the only one who was conscious of it. 
 
 Previously he had only been economical, now he became 
 miserly. 
 
 " There is no sense," he grumbled, " in spending money 
 in the way we are doing. I'll be bound you are giving it 
 all to those young hussies of j^ours. It's quite sufficient for 
 you to waste your time over them. Now listen to me, my 
 dear. I will give you a hundred francs a month for house- 
 keeping, and if you will persist in giving money to these 
 girls, who don't deserve it, yoii must save it out of your dress." 
 
 He kept firmly to his word, and the very next month he 
 refused to get Marthe a pair of boots on the pretext that it 
 would disarrange his accounts, and that he had given her 
 full notice and warning. One evening his wife found him 
 weeping bittei'ly in their bedroom. All her kindness of heart 
 was excited, and she clasped him in her arms and besought 
 him to tell her what was distressing him. But he tore 
 liimself roughly from her and told her that ho was not crying 
 but that he had got a bad headache, and tliat it was that 
 which made his eyes red. 
 
 " Do you think," he cried, " that I am such a simpleton 
 as you are to cry 1 " 
 
 She felt much hurt. The next day Mouret affected great 
 gaiety : but some days afterwards, when the Abbe Faujas and 
 his mother came down-stairs after dinner, he refused to play 
 his usual game of piquet. He did not feel clear-headed enough 
 for it, he said. On the next few nights he made other excuses 
 and so the games were broken off, and everyone went out on to 
 the terrace. Mouret seated himself in front of his wife and 
 the Abbe, talking and doing all he could to speak as much 
 and as frequently as possible; while Madame Faujas sat a 
 few yards away in the shade, quite silent and still, with her 
 hands upon her knees, like some legendary figure keeping 
 guard over a treasure with the stem fidelity of a crouching dog. 
 " Fine evening ! " Mouret used to say every night. " It is 
 mucli pleasanter here than in the dining-room. It is very 
 wise of you to come out and enjoy the fresh air. Ah ! there's 
 a shooting-star ! Did your reverence see it 1 I've heard say 
 that it's Saint Peter liirhting his pipe up yonder." 
 
 He laughed, but Marthe kept quite grave, vexed at his
 
 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 121 
 
 attempts at pleasantry, which spoilt her enjoyment of the 
 great patch of sky that stood out between Monsieur Rastoil's 
 pear-trees and the chestnuts of the Sub-Prefecture. Some- 
 times he would afiect to be ignorant that she conformed v.'ith 
 the requirements of her religion, and he would take the Abbe 
 aside and tell him that he was depending upon him to efiectthe 
 salvation of the whole house. At other times he could never 
 begin a sentence without saying, in a bantering tone, " Now 
 that my wife goes to confession — " Then when he had gi'own 
 tired of this never-ending subject, he began to listen to what 
 was being said in the neighbouring gardens, trying to catch the 
 faint sounds of the voices which were borne along in the calm 
 night air, now that the distant noises of Plassans wei'e hushed. 
 
 " Ah ! those are the voices of Monsieur Coudamin and 
 Doctor Porqiiier ! " he said, straining his ear towards the 
 Sub-Prefecture. " They are making fun of the Paloques. Have 
 you heard Monsieur Delangi'e's falsetto when he says, ' Ladies, 
 you had better come in, the air is growing cool 1 ' Don't 
 you think that that little Delangre always talks as though 
 he had swallowed a reed-pipe 1 " 
 
 Then he turned his head towards the Rastoils' garden. 
 
 " They haven't got anyone there to-night," he said ; "I 
 can't hear anything. Ah, yes ! those great geese the daughters 
 are by the water-fall. The elder one talks just as though she 
 were gobbling pebbles. Every evening they sit there jabber- 
 ing for a good hour. They can't want all that time to tell 
 each other about the offers they have had. Ah ! they are 
 all there ! There's the Abbe Surin, with his voice like a flute ; 
 and the Abbe Fenil, who would do for a rattle on Good Friday, 
 There are sometimes a score of them huddled together in 
 that garden without stirring a finger. I believe they go there 
 to listen to what we are saying." 
 
 While he went chattering on in this way, the Abbe Faujas 
 and Marthe merely spoke a few brief sentences in reply to his 
 direct questions. Generally they sat apart from him with 
 their faces raised to the sky and their eyes gazing out into 
 space. One evening Mouret fell asleep. Then, inclining 
 their heads towards each other, they began to talk in subdued 
 tones ; while some few yards away, Madame Faujas, with 
 her hands upon her knees, and witli her eyes open and her 
 ears appai'cntly on the strain, yet without seeing or hearing 
 anything, seemed to be keeping guard for them.
 
 122 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 The summer passed away, and the Abbe Faujas seemed in no 
 hurry to derive any advantage from his increasing pojJidarity. 
 He still kept himself in seclusion at the Mourets', delighting in 
 the solitude of the garden, to which he had now begun to come 
 down during the day-time. He read his breviai-y as he walked 
 slowly along, with downcast eyes, throiigh the whole length of 
 the e'reen arbour. Sometimes he would close his book and still 
 further slacken his steps and appear to be buried in a profound 
 reverie. Mouret, who used to watch him, at last became affected 
 with a sort of vague impatience and irritation at seeing his 
 black figure walking up and down for hours together behind his 
 fruit-trees. 
 
 " One has no privacy left ! " he murmm-ed to himself. " I 
 can't lift my eyes now without catching sight of that cassock ! 
 He is like a crow, that fellow there, with his round eye that 
 always seems to be on the look-out and watch for something. 
 I don't believe in his fine disinterested airs." 
 
 It was not till early in September that the Home of the 
 Virgin was completed. In the provinces the workmen are pain- 
 fully slow ; though it must be stated that the lady patronesses 
 had twice quite upset Monsieur Lieutaud's designs in favour of 
 ideas of their own. When the committee took possession of 
 the building they rewarded the ra'chitect for the complaisance 
 he had manifested by lavishing upon him the highest praises. 
 Everything seemed to them pei fectly satisfactory. The rooms 
 were large, the communications were excellent, and there was a 
 coiu-tyard planted with trees and embellished with tw^o small 
 fountains. Madame de Condamin was particularly charmed 
 with the facade, which was one of her own ideas. Over the 
 door, the words " Home of tlie Virgin " were carved in gold 
 letters on a slab of black marble. 
 
 On the occasion of the opening of the Home there was a 
 very pleasing and affecting ceremony. The bishop, attended
 
 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 123 
 
 by the chapter, came in person to install the Sisters of Saint 
 Joseph, who liad been antliorised to work the institution. A 
 troop of some fifty girls of from eight to fifteen years of age had 
 been collected together from the streefs of the old quarter of 
 the town, and all that had been required from their parents to 
 obtain their children's admission was a declaration that their 
 employment made it necessary that they should be absent from 
 home during the whole day. Monsieur Delangre made a speech 
 which was much applauded. He explained at considerable 
 length, in a magnificent style, the details and arrangements of 
 this new refuge, which he called " the school of virtue and 
 labour, where young and interesting creatures would be kept 
 safe from wicked temptations." A delicate allusion, towards 
 the end of the speech, to the real author of the Home, the Abbe 
 Faujas, attracted much notice. The Abbe was present amongst 
 the other priests, and his fine, grave face remained perfectly 
 calm and tranquil when all eyes were turned upon him. 
 Marthe blushed on the platform, where she v,as sitting in the 
 midst of the lady patronesses. 
 
 When the ceremony was over, the bishop expressed a desire 
 to inspect the building in every detail ; and, notwithstanding 
 the evident annoyance of the Abbe Fenil, he sent for the Abbe 
 Faujas, whose great black eyes had never quitted him for a 
 single moment, and requested him to be good enough to accom- 
 pany him, adding, with a smile and in easily audible tones, that 
 he was sure he could not find a better guide. This little speech 
 was circulated amongst the departing spectators, and in the 
 evening all Plassans was commenting upon the bishop's favour- 
 able demeanour towards the Abbe Faujas. 
 
 The committee of lady patronesses had reserved for themselves 
 one of the rooms in the Home. Here they provided a collation 
 for the bishop, who ate a biscuit and drank two sips of Malaga, 
 while he found an opportunity to say a polite word or two to 
 each of them. Tliis brought the pious festival to a happy con- 
 clusion, for both before and during the ceremony there had 
 been heart-burnings and rivalries amongst the ladies, wliom the 
 delicate praises of Monseigneur Rousselot quite restored to good 
 humour. When they were left to themselves again, they de- 
 clared that everything had gone off exceedingly well, and they 
 were by no means backward in their eulogies of the bishop. 
 Madame Paloque alone looked sour. The bislio}) had forgotten 
 her when he was distributing his compliments.
 
 124 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 
 
 "You were right," she said furiously to her husband, when 
 she got home again ; " I have just been made a convenience of 
 in this silly nonsense of theirs ! It's a fine idea, indeed, to 
 bring together all these corrupted hussies ! I have given up all 
 my lime to them, and that great simpleton of a bishop, who 
 trembles before his own clergy, can't even say thank-you ! 
 Just as if that Madame de Condamin had done anything, indeed ! 
 She is far too much occupied in showing off her dresses ! Ah ! 
 we know quite sufficient about her, don't we? The world will 
 hear something about her one of these days that will surprise 
 it a little ! Thank goodness, we've nothing to conceal. And 
 that Madame Delangre and Madame Kastoil, too — well, it 
 wouldn't be difficult to tell tales about them that would cover 
 them with blushes ! And they never stirred out of their 
 drawing-rooms and haven't taken half the trouble about the 
 matter that I have ! And then there's that Madame Mouret, 
 with her pretence of managing the whole business, and who 
 does nothing but hang on to the cassock of her Abbe Faujas ! 
 She's another hypocrite of whom we shall hear pretty things 
 one of these days ! And they could all get a polite speech, 
 while there wasn't a word for me ! I'm nothing but a mere con- 
 venience and they treat me like a dog ! But things sha'n't go 
 on like this, Paloque, I can tell you. The dog will turn round 
 and bite them before long ! " 
 
 From this time Madame Paloque showed herself much less 
 accommodating. She became very irregular in her secretarial 
 work, and she declined to perform any duties that she did not 
 fancy, till at last the lady patronesses began to talk of employ- 
 ing a paid secretary. Marthe detailed these sources of trouble 
 to the Abbe Faujas and asked him if he could recommend a 
 suitable person. 
 
 "Don't trouble yourself to look out for anyone," he said, " I 
 daresay I can find you a fit person. Give me two or three days," 
 
 For some time past he had been frequently receiving letters 
 with the BesauQon postmark. They were all in the same hand- 
 writing, a large, ugly hand. Rose, who took them up to him, 
 used to say that he seemed vexed at the mere sight of the 
 envelopes. 
 
 " He looks quite put out," she said. " You may depend upon 
 it that it's no great favourite who writes to him so often." 
 
 Mouret's old curiosity was awakened again at once by this 
 correspondence. One day lie took up one of the letters himself
 
 THE COXQITEST OF PLASSANS. 125 
 
 with a pleasant smile, telling the Abbe, as an excuse for his 
 own appearance, that Rose -was not in the house. The Abbe 
 probably saw through Mouret's cunning, for he assumed an ex- 
 pression of great pleasure, as though he had been impatiently 
 expecting the letter. Mouret, however, did not allow himself 
 to be deceived by this piece of acting, and he stayed outside 
 the door on the landing and glued his ear to the key-hole. 
 
 " From your sister again, isn't it?" asked Madame Faujas'i 
 hard voice. " Why docs she worry you in this way 1 " 
 
 There was a short silence, after which there "was a sound oi 
 paper being roughly crumpled up, and the Abbe said, with evi- 
 dent displeasure : 
 
 " It's always the same old story. She wants to ceme to us 
 and bring her husband with her, tiiat we may get him a place 
 somewhere. She seems to think that we are wallowing in gold. 
 I'm afraid they will be doing something rash and will be taking 
 us by surprise some fine morning." 
 
 " No, no ! we can't do with them here, Ovide !" his mother's 
 voice replied. " They have never liked you ; they have always 
 been jealous of you. Trouche is a scamp and Olympo is quite 
 heartless. They would want everything for themselves, and 
 they would compromise you and interfere with your work." 
 
 Mouret was too much excited by the meanness he was com- 
 mitting to be able to hear well, and lie thought that one of 
 them was coming to the door, and so he hurried away. He 
 took care not to mention what he had done. A few days later 
 the Abbe Faujas gave in his presence a definite reply to Marthe 
 while they were all out on the terrace. 
 
 " I think I can recommend you a suitable person," he said, in 
 his calm unruffled manner. "It is a connection of my own, my 
 brotlicr-in-law, who is coming here from Be.san9on in a few days." 
 
 Mouret became very attentive, while Marthe i;ppeared quite 
 delighted. 
 
 " Oh, that is excellent ! " she exclaimed. " I was feeling very 
 much bothered about finding a suitable person. You see, with 
 all those young girls, we must have a person of unexceptionable 
 morality, but of course a connection of yours — " 
 
 " Yes, yes," interrupted the priest ; " my sister had a little 
 hosiery business at Besan^on, which she has been obliged to 
 dispose of on account of her health ; and now slie is anxious to 
 join us again, as the doctors have ordered her to live in the 
 south. My mother is very much pleased."
 
 126 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 
 
 " I'm sure she will be," Marthe said. " I daresay it grieved 
 you very much to have to be separated, and you must be very 
 glad to be together again. I'll tell you what you must do. 
 There are a couple of rooms upstairs that you don't use ; why 
 shouldn't your sister and her husband have them? They have 
 no children, have they 1 " 
 
 " No, there are only their two selves. I had, indeed, thought 
 for a moment of giving them those two rooms ; but I was afraid 
 of displeasing you by bringing other people into your house." 
 
 " Not at all, I assure you. You are very quiet people." 
 
 She checked herself suddenly, as her husband violently 
 pulled at her dress. He did not want to have the Abbe's rela- 
 tions in the house, and he remembered in wliat terms Madame 
 Faujas had spoken of her daughter and son-in-law. 
 
 "The rooms are very small ones," he began; "and his 
 reverence would be put^o inconvenience. It would be better 
 for all parties that his reverence's sister should take lodgings 
 somewhere else ; there happen to be some rooms vacant just 
 now in the Paloque's house, over the way." 
 
 There was a dead pause in the conversation. The priest said 
 nothing and gazed up into the sky. Marthe thought he was 
 offended, and she felt much distressed at her husband's blunt- 
 ness. After the lapse of a minute she could no longer endure 
 the embarrassed silence. "Well, it's settled then," she said, 
 without trying to more skilfully knit together again the 
 broken threads of the conversation ; " Rose shall help your 
 mother to clean the two rooms. My husband was only think- 
 ing about your own personal convenience ; but, of course, if you 
 wish it, it is not for ua to object to your disposing of the rooms 
 in any way you like." 
 
 Mouret was very angry when he was again alone with his 
 wife. 
 
 " I can't understand you at all !" he cried. "When first I 
 let the rooms to the Abbe, you were quite cross and displeased, 
 and seemed to hate the thovight of having even so much as a 
 cat brought into the house ; and now I believe you would be 
 perfectly willing for the Abbe to bring the whole of his relations, 
 down to his third and fourth cousins. Didn't you feel me 
 tugging at your dress 1 You might have known that I didn't 
 want these people. They ai"e not very respectable folks." 
 
 "How do you know that?" Marthe cried, annoyed by this 
 accusation. " Who told you so ? "
 
 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSAXS. 127 
 
 " Oh, well, it was the Abbe Faujas himself. I overheard 
 him one day as he was talking to his mother." 
 
 She looked at him keenly ; and he blushed slightly beneath 
 her gaze as he stammered out : 
 
 " Well, it is sufficient that I do know. The sister is a heart- 
 less creature and her husband is a scamp. It's no use your 
 putting on that air of insulted majesty; these are their own 
 words, and I'm inventing nothing. I don't want to have them 
 here, do you understand? The old lady herself was the first to 
 object to her daughter coming here. The Abbe now seems to 
 have changed his mind. I don't know what has led him to 
 alter his opinion. It's some fresh mystery of his. He's going 
 to make use of them somehow." 
 
 Marthe shrugged her shoidders and allowed her husband to 
 rail on. He told Rose not to clean the rooms, but Rose now 
 only obeyed her mistress's orders. For five days his anger 
 vented itself in bitter words and furious recriminations. In 
 the Abbe Faujas's presence he confined himself to sulking, for 
 he did not dare to openly attack him Then, as usual, he ended 
 by submitting, and ceased to rail at the people who were coming. 
 He drew his purse-strings still tighter than before, isolated him- 
 self again and shut himself up in his own selfish existence. When 
 the Trouches arrived one October evening, he merely exclaimed : 
 
 " Well, they don't look a nice couple ; they haven't pleasant 
 countenances." 
 
 The Abbe Faujas did not appear very desirous that his sister 
 and brother-in-law should be seen on the day of their arrival. 
 His mother took up her position by the door, and as soon as 
 she caught sight of them turning out of the Place of the Sub 
 Prefecture, she cast uneasy glances behind her into the passage 
 and the kitchen. Luck, however, was against hei', and, just as 
 the Trouches arrived, Marthe, who was going out, came up 
 from the garden, followed by her children. 
 
 "Ah ! there you all are ! " she said, with a pleasant smile. 
 
 Madame Faujas, who was generally so completely mistress of 
 herself, could not suppress a slight show of confusion, and she 
 stammered a word or two of reply. For some moments they 
 stood confronting and looking at each other in the passage. 
 Mouret had. hurriedly mounted the steps and Rose had taken 
 up her [position at the kitchen door. 
 
 "You must be very glad to be together again," said Marthe, 
 addressing Mada-me Faujas.
 
 128 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 
 
 Then, noticing the feeling of embarrassment which was keep- 
 ing them all silent, slie turned towards Trouche and added : 
 
 " You arrived by the five o'clock train, I suppose. How 
 long were you in getting here from Besangon 1 " 
 
 " Seventeen hours on the railway," Trouclie replied, display- 
 ing a mouth devoid of teeth. " It is no joke that, in a third- 
 class carriage, I can tell you. One gets one's belly pretty well 
 shaken up." 
 
 Then he laughed with a peculiar clattering of his jaws. 
 Madame Faujas cast a very angry glance at him, and he 
 began to fumble mechanically at his greasy overcoat, trying to 
 fjxsten a button that was no longer there, and holding against 
 his thighs a couple of card-board bonnet-boxes he was carrying, 
 one green and the other yellow, probably with a view to con- 
 cealing the stains. His red throat was perpetually gurgling 
 beneath a twisted rag of black tie, over which there only 
 appeared the edge of a dirty shirt. In his face, that was all 
 scarred and that seemed to reek with vice, there glistened two 
 little black eyes that ceaselessly rolled about, examining every- 
 body and everything with an expression of astonishment and 
 covetousness. Tliey looked like the eyes of a thief studying a 
 house which he means to come back to and plunder during the 
 niglit. 
 
 Mouret fancied that Trouche was examining the fastenings. 
 
 " That fellow," he thought to himself, " looks as though he 
 were getting the pattern into his head ! " 
 
 Olympe was conscicus that her husband had made a vulgar 
 remark. She was a tall, slight woman, fair and faded, with a 
 flat, unpl easing face. She was canying a little deal box and a 
 big bundle tied up in a tablecloth. 
 
 " We have brought some pillows with us," she said, glancing 
 at the bundle. " Pillows come in very usefully i)i a third-class 
 carriage ; they make you quite as comfortable as if you were 
 travelling first-class. It is a great saving, going third, and 
 it is no use throwing money away, is if?" 
 
 " Certainly not," Marthe replied, somewhat surprised at the 
 new-comei's. 
 
 Olympe now came to the front and went on talking in a 
 pleasing voice. 
 
 " It's the same thing with clothes," she said ; " when I am 
 going to set off' on a joiTrney I put on all my shabbiest things. 
 I told Honore that his old overcoat was cpiite good enough.
 
 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 129 
 
 He has got his old work-day trousers on too, trousers that he's 
 quite tired of wearing. You see I selected my worst dress ; 
 it is actually in holes, I believe. This shawl was my mother's ; 
 I have had it done up again ; and this bonnet that I have on is 
 an old one that I only wear when I go to the wash-house ; but 
 it's quite good enough to get spoilt with the dust, isn't it, 
 madame 1 " 
 
 "Certainly, certainly," replied Marthe, trying fo force a 
 smile. 
 
 Just at this moment a stern voice was heard from the top 
 of the stairs giving utterance to a sharp exclamation. 
 
 " Come, mother ! " 
 
 Mouret raised his head and saw the Abbe Faujas leaning 
 upon the balustrade on the second floor, looking very angry, 
 and bending over, at the risk of falling, to get a better view of 
 wliai was going on in the passage. He had heard the sound of 
 voices and lie had been waiting there for a moment or two in 
 great impatience. 
 
 " Cunie, mother, come ! " he cried again. 
 
 "Yes, yes, we are coming up," Madame Faujas answered, 
 seeming to tremble at the sound of her son's angry accents. 
 
 Then turning to the Trouches she said : 
 
 "Come along, my children, we must go upstairs. Let lis 
 leave madame to attend to her business." 
 
 But the Trouches did not seem to hear ; they appeared quite 
 satisfied to remain in the passage, and they looked about them 
 with a pleased air, as though the house had just been presented 
 to them. 
 
 " It is very nice, very nice indeed, isn't it, Honore 1 " Oljmpe 
 said. "After what Ovide wrote in his letters we scarcely ex- 
 pected to find it so nice as this, did wel But I told you that we 
 ought to come here, and that we should do better here, and I 
 was right, you see." 
 
 "Yes, yes, we ought to be very comfortable here," Trouche 
 murmured. " The garden, too, seems a pretty big one." 
 
 Then, addressing Mouret, he asked : 
 
 " Do you allow your lodgers, sir, to walk in the garden ? " 
 
 Before Mouret had time to reply, the Abbe Faujas, who had 
 come downstairs, cried out in thundering tones : 
 
 " Come, Trouche ! Come, Olympe ! " 
 
 They turned round ; but when they saw him standing on the 
 steps looking terribly angiy, they had nothing to say, but 
 
 I
 
 1:^0 THE CONQUEST OF TLASSANS. 
 
 meekly followed after him. The Abbe went \ip the stairs in 
 front of them without saying another word, and without even 
 having seemed to observe the i^rcsence of Mouret, who stood 
 gazing after this singular procession. Madame Faujas smiled at 
 Marthe to take away the awkwardness of the situation as she 
 brought up the rear. When Marthe had gone out and Mouret 
 was left alone, he lingered for a moment or two in the passage. 
 Upstairs, on the second floor, there was a sound of doors being 
 noisily banged. Then there were loud voices to be heard, and 
 then there was a dead silence. 
 
 " Has he locked them up separately, I wonder?" Mouret said 
 to himself with a laugh. " Well, anyhow, they are not a nice 
 family." 
 
 In the morning, Trouche, respectably dressed entirely in 
 black, shaven, and with his scanty hair carefully brushed over 
 his temples, was presented by the Abbe Faujas to Marthe and 
 the lady patronesses. He was forty-five years of age, wrote a 
 very good hand, and was said to have kept the books of a mer- 
 cantile house for a long time. The ladies at once installed him 
 as secretary. His duties were to represent the committee, and 
 employ himself in certain routine work from ten o'clock till 
 four in an office on the first floor of the Home. His salary 
 was to be fifteen hundred francs. 
 
 " These good people are very quiet, you see," Marthe said 
 to her husband a few days afterwards. 
 
 The Trouches, indeed, made no more noise than the Faujases. 
 Two or three times Rose had asserted that she had heard 
 quarrels between the mother and daughter, but the Abbe's 
 grave voice had immediately restored them to peace. Trouche 
 went out every morning punctually at a quarter to ten, and came 
 back again at a quarter past four. He never went out in the 
 evening. Olympe occasionally went out with Madame Faujas 
 to do her shopping, but she had never been seen to come down 
 the stairs by herself. 
 
 The window of the room in which the Trouches slept looked 
 upon the garden. It was the last one to the right, in front of 
 the trees of the Sub-Prefecture. Great curtains of red calico, 
 edged with a yellow border hung behind the glass panes, mak- 
 ing a strong contrast, when seen from outside, with the priest's 
 white ones. The window was kept constantly closed. One 
 evening when the Abb6 Faujas and his mother were out on the 
 terrace with the Mourets a slight involuntary cough was heard.
 
 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 131 
 
 As the priest sharply raised his head with an expression of an- 
 noyance, he caught sight of the shadowy forms of Olympe and 
 her husband leaning out of the window in perfect stillness. 
 For a moment or two he kept his eyes turned upwards, inter- 
 rupting his conversation with j\rai'the. The Trouches disap- 
 peared, and the subdued sound of the wnndow-catch being 
 fastened could be heard. 
 
 "You had better go upstairs, I think, mother," said the 
 priest. " I am afraid you may be getting cold out here." 
 
 Madame Faujas wished them all good-night; and, when she 
 had retired, Marthe resumed the conversation by asking in her 
 kindly tones : 
 
 " Is your sister worse ? I have not seen her for a week." 
 
 "She has gi-eat need of rest," the priest answered shortly. 
 
 Marthe's sympathetic interest made her continue the subject. 
 
 "She shuts herself up too much," she said; "the fresh air 
 would do her good. These October evenings are still quite 
 warm. Why does she never come out into the garden ? She 
 has never set foot in it. You know that it is entirely at your 
 service." 
 
 The priest muttered a few vague words in excuse, and then 
 Mouret, to increase his embarrassment, manifested a still greater 
 amiability than his wife's. 
 
 "That's just what I was saying this morning," he began. 
 " His reverence's sister might very well bring her sewing out 
 here in the sun in the afternoons, instead of keeping herself 
 sliut up upstairs. Anyone would think that she daren't even 
 show herself at the window. She isn't frightened of us, I hope ! 
 We are not such terrible people as all that ! And Monsieur 
 Trouche, too, he hurries up the stairs, four steps at a time. 
 Tell them to come and spend an evening with us now and 
 then. They must be frightfully dull up in that room of theirs, 
 all alone." 
 
 The Abbe did not seem to be in the humour this evening to 
 submit to his landlord's pleasantry. He looked him straightly 
 in the face, and said very bluntly : 
 
 " I am much obliged to you, but there is little probability of 
 their acce^jting your invitation. They are tired in the evening, 
 and they go to bed. And, besides, that is the best thing they 
 can do." 
 
 " Just as they like, my dear sir," replied Mouret, vexed at 
 the Abba's rougli manner.
 
 132 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 
 
 When he was aloue again with Marthe, he said to her : 
 
 " Does the Abbe, I wonder, think he can persuade ns that 
 the moon is made of green cheese ? It's quite clear that he is 
 afraid that those scamps he has taken in will play him some 
 bad trick or other. Didn't you see how sharply he kept his 
 eye on them this evening when he caught sight of them at the 
 window 1 They were spying out at us up there. There will 
 be a bad end to all this ! " 
 
 Marthe was now living in a state of tender calm. She no 
 longer felt troubled by Mouret's railings ; the gradiial grov.th 
 of her faith filled her with an exquisite joy, and she glided 
 softly and slowly into a life of pious devotion, which seemed to 
 kill her with a sweet restfulness. The Abbe Faujas still avoided 
 speaking to her of God. He remained merely a friend, exercis- 
 ing an influence over her only by his grave demeanour and the 
 vague odour of incense exhaled by his cassock. On two or 
 three occasions when she was alone with him slic had again 
 broken out into fits of nervous sobbing, without knowing why, 
 but finding a happiness in thus allowing herself to weep. On 
 each of these occasions the Abbe had merely taken hold of her 
 hands in silence, calming her with his serene and authoritative 
 gaze. When she wanted to tell him of her causeless attacks of 
 sadness, or of her secret joys, or of her need of guidance, he 
 smiled and hushed her, telling her that these matters were not 
 his concern, and that she must speak of them to the Abbe 
 Bourrette. Then she retired completely within herself and sat 
 trembling ; while the priest seemed to assume a still colder re- 
 serve than before, and strode away out of her reach like a god 
 at whose feet she was wishing to pour out her soul in humilia- 
 tion. 
 
 Marthe's chief occupation now was attending mass and the 
 various religious services and works in which she took part. 
 In the vast nave of Saint-Saturnin's she was perfectly happy, 
 and there she experienced the full sweetness of that purely 
 physical restfulness for which she sought. When she was tliere 
 she forgot everything : it was like looking through an immense 
 open window upon another life, a life that was wide and in- 
 finite, and full of an emotion which thi'illed her and satisfied 
 her. But she still felt some fear of the church, and she went 
 there with a feeling of uneasy bashfulness, and a touch of nervous 
 shame-facedness, that made her glance behind her as she passed 
 through the door to see if there was anyone there who had
 
 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 133 
 
 noticed her going in. Then she abandoned herself to a flood 
 of tender emotion, in ^tiich everything around her seemed to 
 assume a melting softness, even the unctuous voice of the Abbe 
 Bourrette, who, after he had confessed her, sometimes kept her 
 on her knees for a few minutes longer, while he talked to her 
 about Madame Rastoil's dinners or the Rougons' last I'eception. 
 
 Marthe often returned home in a condition of complete pro- 
 stration. Religion seemed to quite break her down. Rose had 
 become all-powerful in the house. She scolded Mouret and 
 found fault with him because he dirtied too much linen, and 
 she made him have his dinner only when it was ready for him. 
 She even began to set to work at his couA^ersion. 
 
 " Madame is quite right to live a Christian life," she said to 
 him. " You will be damned, sir, you Avill, and it will only be 
 right, for you are not a good man at heart, no, you are not ! 
 You ought to go with your wife to mass next Sunday morning." 
 
 Mouret shrugged his shoulders. He let things take their 
 own course, and sometimes he even did a bit of house-work him- 
 self, taking a turn or two with the broom when he thought the 
 dining-room was looking particularly dusty. The children gave 
 him most trouble. It was vacation-time, and, as their mother 
 was scarcely ever in the house, Desiree and Octave, who had 
 again failed in his examination for his degree, turned the place 
 upside down. Serge was ill and kept his bed, and he spent 
 whole days in reading in his room. He had become the Abbe 
 Faujas's favourite, and the priest lent him books. Mouret 
 passed two dreadful months, at his wits' end how to manage his 
 young folks. Octave was a special trouble to him, and he did 
 not feel inclined to keep him at home till the end of the vaca- 
 tion, 30 he determined that he should not return ngain to the 
 college but should be put in some business-house at 
 Marseilles. 
 
 " Since you won't look after them at all," he said to Marthe, 
 " I miist find some place or other to put them in. I am quite 
 worn out with them all, and I won't have them at home any 
 longer. It's your own fixult if it causes you any grief. Octave 
 is quite unendurable. He will never pass his examination, and 
 it will be much better to at once teach him how to gain his own 
 living instead of leaving him to go on idling his time awfiy with 
 a lot of good-for-nothings. One meets him roaming about 
 all over the town." 
 
 ilarthe was very nuich distressed. She seemed to wake \i]\
 
 134 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 
 
 as it were, from a dream when she heard that one of her children 
 was to be separated from her. She sij^cceeded in getting the 
 departure postponed for a week, and she remained at home and 
 resumed her active hfe of former days. But she quickly drop- 
 ped back again into her previous state of listless langour ; and 
 on the day that Octave came to kiss her, telling her that he was 
 to leave for Marseilles in the evening, she seemed to have lost 
 all her strength and energy, and she contented herself with 
 merely giving him some good advice. 
 
 Mouret came back from the railway station with a very 
 heavy heart. He looked about for his wife and he found her in 
 the garden, crying under the arbour. Then he gave vent to 
 his feelings. 
 
 "There ! there's one the less now ! " he cried. "You ought 
 to feel glad of that. You will be able to go prowling about the 
 church now as much as you like. Make your mind easy, the 
 other two won't be here long. I shall keep Serge with me as 
 he is a very quiet lad and is rather young yet to go and read 
 for the bar ; but if he's at all in your way, just let me know 
 and I will free you of him at once. As for Desiree, I shall send 
 her to her nurse." 
 
 Marthe went on weeping in silence. 
 
 "What is it you want? you can't be both in and out. Since 
 you have taken to being away from your home, your chil- 
 dren have become indifferent to you. That's logic, isn't iti 
 Besides it is quite necessary to find places somewhere for all the 
 crowd of people who are living in our house. It isn't nearly big 
 enough, and we shall be lucky if we don't get turned out of 
 doors ourselves." 
 
 He had raised his eyes as he spoke and was looking at the 
 windows of the second-floor. Then lowering his voice, he 
 added : 
 
 " Don't go on crying in that ridiculous way ! They are 
 watching you. Don't you see that pair of eyes peeping through 
 the red curtains 1 They are the eyes of the Abba's sister ; I 
 know them quite well. You may always depend on seeing them 
 there all the day through. The Abbe himself may be a good 
 man, but as for those Trouches, I know they ai-e always 
 crouching behind their curtains like wolves waiting to spring. 
 I feel quite certain that if the Abbe didn't prevent them they 
 would come down in the night and steal my pears. Dry your 
 tears, my dear ; you may be quite sure that they are enjoying
 
 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 135 
 
 our disagi'eement. Even though they have been tlie cause of 
 the boy's going away, that is no reason why we shovikl let them 
 see what a trouble his departure has been to us both." 
 
 His voice broke and he seemed on the point of sobbing 
 himself. Marthe, quite heart-broken and deeply touched by his 
 last words, was prompted to throw herself into his arms. But 
 they were afraid of being observed, and they felt as though there 
 were some obstacle between them that prevented them from 
 coming together. Then they separated, while Olympe's eyes 
 still continued to glisten between the red curt dns.
 
 136 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 One morning the Abbe Bourrette made his appearance, his face 
 betokening the greatest distress. As soon as he caught sight of 
 Marthe standing upon the steps, he hurried up to her and, 
 seizing her hands and pressing them, he stammered out : 
 
 " Poor Compau ! it is all over with him ! he is dying ! I am 
 going upstairs, I must see Faujas at once." 
 
 When Marthe showed him the priest, who, according to his 
 usual custom, was walking about at the bottom of the garden, 
 reading his breviary, he ran up to him, tottering on his short 
 legs. He tried to speak to him and tell him the sad news, but 
 his grief choked him, and he could only throw his arms round 
 the Abbe E'aujas's neck, while he sobbed bitterly. 
 
 " Hallo ! what's the matter with the two parsons 1 " cried 
 Mouret, who had hastily rushed out of the dining-room. 
 
 " The vicar of Saint-Saturnin's is dying," Marthe replied, 
 showing much distress. 
 
 Mouret's face assumed an expression of surprise^ and, as he 
 went back into the house, he murmured : 
 
 " Pooh ! that worthy Bourrette will manage to console 
 himself to-morrow when he is appointed vicar in the other's 
 place. He counts on getting the post ; he told me so." 
 
 The Abbe Faujas disengaged himself from the old priest's 
 embrace, and listened to his sad news with a grave expression 
 as he quietly closed his breviary. 
 
 " Compau wants to see yon," the Abbe Bourrette said in 
 broken tones ; " he will not last the morning out. Oh ! be has 
 been a dear friend to me ! We studied together. He is anxi- 
 ous to say good-bye to you. He has been telling me all 
 through the night that you were the only man of courage in the 
 diocese. For more than a year he has been getting weaker and 
 Aveaker, and not a single priest in Plassans has dared to go and 
 grasp his hand ; while you, who scarcely knew him, you have
 
 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 137 
 
 speut an afteruoou with him every week. The tears came into 
 his eyes just now as he was speaking of youj you must lose no 
 time, my friend." 
 
 The Abbe Faujas went upstairs to his room for a moment or 
 two, while the Abbe Bourrette paced impatiently and hope- 
 lessly about the passage; and then at last they set off together. 
 The old priest wiped his brow and swayed about on the road- 
 way as he spoke in broken tones. 
 
 " He would have died like a dog without a single prayer said 
 for him if his sister had not come and told me about him at 
 eleven o'clock last night. She did quite right, the dear lady, 
 though he did not want to compromise any of us, and even 
 would have foregone the last sacraments. Yes, my friend, he 
 Avas dying alone and abandoned and deserted, he who was so 
 clever, and who has only lived to do good ! " 
 
 Then he was silent ; but after a few moments he resumed 
 again in a different voice : 
 
 " Do you suppose that Fenil will ever forgive me for tliis 1 
 Never, I expect ! When Compan saw me bringing the con- 
 secrated oil, he was unwilling to let me anoint him and told 
 me to go away. Well ! well ! it's all over with me now, and I 
 shall never be vicar ! But I am glad that I did it, and that I 
 have not let Compan die like a dog. He has been at war with 
 Fenil for thirty years. When he took to his bed he said to 
 me, ' Ah ! it is Fenil who is going to carry the day ! Now that 
 I am stricken down he will get the better of me ! ' Tliat j)oor 
 Compan, whom I have seen so high-spirited and energetic at 
 Saint-Saturnin's ! Little Eusebe, the choir-boy, whom I 
 took to ring the viaticum bell, was quite embarrassed when he 
 found where we were going; and he kept looking behind him at 
 each s )und of the bell, as if he was afraid that Fenil would 
 hear it." 
 
 The Abbe Faujas, who was stepping quickly along with bent 
 head and a preoccupied air, kept perfectly silent, and did not 
 seem to hear what his companion was saying. 
 
 " Has the bishop been informed 1 " he asked suddenly. 
 
 But the Abbe Bourrette in his turn now appeared to be biu-ied 
 in thought and he made no reply ; but as they reached the 
 Abbe Compan's door ho said : 
 
 '*' Tell him that we have just met Fenil and that he bowed to 
 us. It will please him and he will think that I shall be 
 appointed vicar."
 
 138 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 
 
 They went up the stairs in silence. The dying man's 
 sister came to receive them. As she caught sight of the 
 two priests she burst into tears, and stammered out through 
 her sobs : 
 
 " It is all over ! He has just passed a\vay in my arms. I was 
 q[uite alone with him. As he was dying, he looked round him 
 and murmiu-ed, ' I must have the plague since they have all 
 deserted me.' Ah ! gentlemen, he died with his eyes filled 
 with tears." 
 
 They went into the little room where the Abbe Compan seemed 
 to be sleeping with his head on the pillow. His eyes had 
 remained open, and his white and mournfully sad face 
 was still weeping ; the tears yet trickled down his cheeks. 
 Then the Abbe Bourrette fell upon his knees, sobbing and pray- 
 ing, with his face pressed against the counter-pane. The Abbe 
 Faujas remained standing, gazing at the dead man ; then, after 
 having knelt down for a moment, he quietly went away. The 
 Abb^ Bourrette was so absorbed in his grief that he did not even 
 hear him close the door. 
 
 The Abbe Faujas went straight to the bishop's. In Mon- 
 seigneur Eousselot's ante-chamber he met the Abbe Surin, 
 carrying a bundle of papers. 
 
 "Do you want to speak to his loi'dship?" the secretary 
 asked, with his never-failing smile. "You have come at an 
 unfortunate time. His lordship is so busy that he has given 
 orders that no one is to be admitted to him." , 
 
 "I want to see him on a very urgent matter," the Abbe 
 Faujas said quietly. " You can at any rate let him know that 
 I am here ; and I will wait, if it is necessary." 
 
 " I am afraid that there would be no use in your doing that. 
 His lordship has several people with him. It would be better 
 if you came again to-morrow." 
 
 But the Abbe took a chair, and just as he was doing so the 
 bishop opened the door of his study. He appeared much 
 vexed on seeing his visitor, whom he at first pi-etended not to 
 recognise. 
 
 " My son," he said to Surin, " when yovi have arranged those 
 papers, come to me immediately ; there is a letter I want to 
 dictate to you." 
 
 Then turning to the priest, who remained respectfully stand- 
 ing, he said : 
 
 " Ah ! is that you, Monsieur Faujas 1 I am very glad to see
 
 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 130 
 
 you. Is there anything you want to say to me ? Come into 
 my study ; you are never in the way." 
 
 Monseigneur Rousselot's study was a very lai'ge and rather 
 gloomy room, in which a great wood fire was kept constantly 
 burning, in the summer as well as the winter. The heavy 
 carpet and curtains shut out all the air and the room felt like 
 a warm bath. The bishop passed a chilly existence there in 
 his arm-chair, like some dowager shutting herself up from the 
 world, detesting all noise and excitement, and devolving upon 
 the Abbe Fenil the care of his diocese. He delighted in the 
 classics, and it was said that he was secretly making a transla- 
 tion of Horace. He was equally fond of the little verses of the 
 Anthology, and broad qiiotations occasionally escaped from his 
 lips, which he enjoyed with a learned naivete quite insensible to 
 vulgar modesty. 
 
 " There is no one here, you see,"said he, sitting down before the 
 fire ; " but I am not feeling very well to-day, and I gave orders 
 that nobody was to bo admitted. Now you can tell me what 
 you have to say ; I am quite at your service." 
 
 His general expression of amiability was tinged with a kind 
 of vague uneasiness and a sort of resigned submission. When 
 the Abbe Faujas had informed him of the death of the Abbe 
 Compan, he rose from his chair, seeming much distressed and 
 annoyed. 
 
 " What ! " he cried, " my good Compan dead ! and without 
 my having been able to bid him farewell ! No one gave me 
 any warning ! Ah, my friend, you were right when you gave 
 me to understand that I was no longer master here. They 
 abuse my kindness." 
 
 " Your lordship knows," said the Abbe Faujas, " how devoted 
 I am to you. I am only waiting for a sign from you." 
 
 The bishop shook his head as he murmured : 
 
 " Yes, yes ; I remember the offer you made to me. You 
 have an excellent heart ; but what an uproar there would be, 
 if I were to break with the Abbe Fenil ! I should have my 
 ears deafened for a whole week ! But yet if I could feel quite 
 sure that you could really rid me of him, and was not afraid 
 that at a week's end he would come back and crush your neck 
 under his heel — " 
 
 The Abbo Faujas could not repress a smile. Tears were 
 welling from the bishop's eyes. 
 
 " Yes, I am afraid, I am afraid," the latter resumed, as he
 
 140 THE CONQUEST OF rLAS,SAN&. 
 
 sank down again into his chair. " I don't feel equal to it yet. 
 Ft is that miserable man who has killed Compan and who has 
 kept his death agony a secret from me that I might not go and 
 close his eyes. He is capable of the most terrible things. 
 And, yon see, I like to live in peace. Fenil is very energetic 
 and he renders me great service in the diocese. When I am no 
 longer here, matters will perhaps be better ordered." 
 
 He grew calmer again and his smile returned. 
 
 " Besides, all is going on satisfactorily at present, and T 
 don't see any immediate difficulty. We can wait." 
 
 The Abbe Faujas sat down as he replied calmly : 
 
 " No doubt ; but still you will have to appoint a vicar for 
 Saint-Saturnin's in succession to the Abbe Compan." 
 
 Monseigneur Rousselot lifted his hands to his temples with 
 an expression of hopelessness. 
 
 "Indeed, you are right ! " he ejaculated. " I had forgotten 
 all about that. That good Compan doesn't know in what a 
 hole he has put me by dying so suddenly without my having 
 had any warning. I promised you the place, didn't 1 1 " 
 
 The Abbe bowed. 
 
 " Well, my friend, you shall save me by letting me take back 
 my word. You know how Fenil detests you. The success of 
 the Home of the Virgin has made him quite furious, and he 
 swears that he will prevent you from making the conquest of 
 Plassans. I am talking to you, you see, quite openly. 
 Recently, when reference has been made to the appointment 
 of a vicar for Saint-Saturnin's, I have let fall your name. Fenil 
 flew into a frightful rage and I was obliged to promise that 1 
 woidd give the place to a friend of his, the Abbe Chardon, 
 whom you know, and who is really a very worthy man. Now, 
 my friend, do this much for me, and give up this matter. I 
 will make you whatever recompense you like to name." 
 
 The priest's face wore a grave expression. After a short 
 interval of silence, during which he seemed to be taking counsel 
 of himself, he spoke : 
 
 "You know well, my lord," he said, "that I am quite with- 
 out personal ambition. I shoiild much prefer to lead a life of 
 privacy, and it would be a great relief to me to give up this 
 appointment. But I am not my own master, and I feel bound 
 to satisfy those patrons of mine who take an interest in me. 
 I trust that your lordship will reflect very seriously before 
 taking a steo which you would probably regret afterwards."
 
 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 141 
 
 Although the Abbe Faujas spoke very humbly, the bishop 
 was not uucouscious of the menace which his words veiled. 
 He rose from his chair and took a few steps about the room, a 
 prey to the most painful doubt. 
 
 " Well, well," he said, lifting his hands, " this has been 
 tormenting me for a long time. I should have nuich preferred 
 avoiding all these explanations, but, since you insist, I must 
 speak frankly. Well, my dear sir, the Abbe Fenil brings many 
 charges against you. As I think I have told yoii before, he 
 must have written to Besancon and learnt from thence all the 
 vexatious stories you know of. You have certainly explained 
 all those matters to me, and I am quite aware of jowr merits 
 and of your life of penitence and solitude ; but what can I do ? 
 Fenil has weapons against you and he uses them ruthlessly ; I 
 often don't know what to say in your defence. When the 
 minister requested me to receive you into my diocese, I did not 
 conceal from him that your position would be a difficult one ; 
 but he continued to press me and said that that was your affair, 
 and so in the end I consented. But you must not come to-day 
 and ask me to do what is impossible." 
 
 The Abbe Faujas had not lowered his head during the 
 bishop's remarks, and now he raised it still higher as he looked 
 him straight in the face and said in his sharp voice : 
 . "You have given me your promise, my lord." 
 
 "Certainly, certainly," the bishop replied. "That poor 
 Compan was getting weaker evety day and you came and con- 
 fided certain matters to me, and then I made the promise tc 
 you. I don't deny it. Listen to me, I will tell you everything, 
 that you may not accuse me of wheeling round like a weather- 
 cock. You asserted that the minister w'as extremely desirous for 
 you to be appointed vicar of Saint-Saturnin's. Well, I wrote to 
 obtain information on the subject, and a friend of mine went to 
 the minister's office. They almost laughed in his face, and they 
 told him that they didn't even know you. The minister abso- 
 lutely denies that he is your supporter, do you hear ? If you 
 wish it, I will read you a letter in which he makes some very 
 stern remarks about you." 
 
 He stretched out his arms towards a drawer, but the Abbe 
 Faujas rose to his feet without taking his eyes off the bishop, 
 while he smiled with mingled irony and pity. 
 
 " Ah, my lord ! my lord ! " he said.
 
 142 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 
 
 Then, after a moment's silence, as though he were imwilling 
 to enter into further explanations, he said : 
 
 " I give your lordship back your promise ; but believe that 
 in all this I was working more for your own advantage than for 
 mine. By-and-by, when it will be too late, you will call my 
 warnings to mind." 
 
 He stepped towards the door, but the bishop laid his hand 
 upon him and brought him back, saying with an expression of 
 uneasiness : 
 
 " What do you mean 1 Explain yourself, my dear Monsieur 
 Faujas. I know very well that I am not in favour at Paris 
 since the election of the Marquis de Lagi-ifoul. But they know 
 me very little if they suppose that I had any hand in the 
 matter. I don't go out of my study twice in a month. Do 
 you imagine that they accuse me of having caused the marquis's 
 nomination ? " 
 
 "Yes, I am afraid so," the priest replied shortly. 
 
 " But it is quite absurd ! I have never interfered in politics ; 
 I live amongst my beloved books. It is Fenil who has done it 
 all. I have told him a score of times that he would end by 
 compromising me at Paris." 
 
 He checked himself and blushed slightly at having allowed 
 these last words to escape him. The Abb6 Faujas sat down 
 again in front of him and said in deep tones : 
 
 " My lord, you have just condemned your vicar-general. I 
 have never given you any other advice. Do not continue to 
 make common cause with him or he will lead you into serious 
 trouble. I have friends at Paris, whatever you may believe. 
 I know that the Marquis de Lagrifoul's election has strongly 
 predisposed the government against you. Rightly or wrongly, 
 they believe that you are the sole cause of the opposition 
 movement which has manifested itself in Plassans, where the 
 minister, for special reasons, is most anxious to have a majoi'ity. 
 If the legitimist candidate should again succeed at the next 
 election, it would be very awkward, and I should be considerably 
 alarmed for your comfort." 
 
 " But this is abominable ! " cried the unhappy bishop, rocking 
 himself in his chair ; " I can't prevent the legitimist candidate 
 from being returned ! I haven't got the least influence, and I 
 never mix myself up in these matters at all. Really, there are 
 times when I feel that I should like to go and shut myself up 
 in a monastery. I could take my books with me, and lead a
 
 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 113 
 
 quiet, peaceful life. It is Feuil who ought to be bishop instead 
 of me. If I were to listen to Feuil, 1 should get completely 
 on bad terms with the government. I should hearken only to 
 Rome, and tell Paris to mind its own business. But that is 
 not my natui-e, and I want to die in peace. The minister then, 
 you say, is enraged with me 1 " 
 
 The priest made no reply. Two creases at the corners of 
 his moutli gave to his face an expression of silent scorn. 
 
 " Really," continued the bishop, " if I thought it would 
 please him if I were to appoint you vicar of Saint-Saturnin's, 
 I would try to manage it. But I can assure you that you are 
 mistaken. You are but very little in the odour of sanctity." 
 
 The Abbe Faujas made a hasty movement of his hands, as 
 he broke out impatiently : 
 
 "Have you forgotten," he said, "that calumnies arc circulated 
 about me, and that I came to Plassans with a soiled cassock 1 
 When they send a compromised man to apostof danger, they deny 
 all knowledge of him till the day of triumph. Help me to succeed, 
 my lord, and then you will see that I have friends at Paris." 
 
 Then, as the bishop, in surprise at the energy of the adven- 
 turous priest, continued to gaze at him in silence, the latter 
 lapsed into a less assertive manner as he continued : 
 
 "These, however, are suppositions, and what I mean is, that 
 I have much to be pardoned. My friends are waiting to thank 
 you till ray position is completely established." 
 
 Monscigneur Rousselot kept silence for a moment longer. 
 He was a man of sharp understanding, and he had gained a 
 knowledge of human failings from books. He was conscious 
 of his own yielding character, and he was even a little ashamed 
 of it; but he consoled himself for it by judging men for what 
 they were worth. In the life which he led of a learned epicurean, 
 there were times when he felt a supreme amusement at the 
 ambitious men about him, who fought amongst themselves for a 
 few stray shreds of his power. 
 
 "Well," he said, with a smile, "you are a persistent man, 
 my dear Monsieur Faujas, and since I have made you a promise 
 I will keep it. Six months ago, I confess, I should have been 
 afraid of stirring up all Plassans against me, but you have 
 succeeded in making yourself liked, and the ladies of the town 
 often speak to me about you in highly eulogistic terms. In 
 appointing you vicar of Saint-Saturnin's, I am only paying the 
 debt which we owe you for the Home of the Virgin."
 
 144 THE CONQUEST OF TLASSANS. 
 
 The bishop had recovered all his pleasant amiability and 
 charming manner. Just at this niomeut tlie Abbe Surin put 
 his handsome head through the door-way. 
 
 " No, my child," said the bishop to him, " I shall not dictate 
 that letter to you. I have no further need of you, and you 
 can go away." 
 
 " The Abbe Fenil is here," said the young priest. 
 
 " Oh very well, let him wait ! " 
 
 Monseigneur Rousselot winced slightly ; but he spoke to his 
 secretary Avith an expression of almost cheerful decision, and he 
 looked at the Abbe Faujas with a glance of intelligence. 
 
 " See ! go out this way," he said to him as he opened a door 
 that was hidden behind a curtain. 
 
 He kept the priest standing on the threshold for a moment, 
 and continued to look at him with a smile on his face. 
 
 " Fenil will be furious," he said ; " but you will promise to 
 defend me against him if he is too hard uj^on me ? I am 
 making him your enemy, I warn you of that. I am counting 
 upon you, too, to prevent the re-election of the Marquis de 
 Lagrifoul. Ah ! it is upon you that I am leaning now, my 
 dear Monsieur Faujas." 
 
 He waved his white hand to the Abbe, and then he returned 
 with an appearance of perfect unconcern to the warmth of his 
 study. The jDriest had retained his humble demeanour, feeling 
 surprised at the quite feminine ease with which the bishop 
 changed from the attitude of master and yielded to the stronger 
 side. And it was only after they had parted that he began to 
 feel that Monseigneur Rousselot had just been secretly laughing 
 at him, as he laughed at the Abbe Fenil in that downy arm- 
 chair of his where he read his Horace. 
 
 About ten o'clock on the following Thursday, just when the 
 fashionable society of Plassans were treading on each other's 
 feet in the Rougons' green drawing-room, the Abbe Faujas 
 appeared at the door. He looked tall and majestic, and there 
 was a bright colour on his cheeks, and he wore a delicate cassock 
 tl)at glistened like satin. His face was still grave, though 
 there was a slight smile upon it, just the pleasant turn of the 
 lips that was necessary to light up his stern countenance with 
 a ray of cheerfulness. 
 
 " Ah ! here is the dear vicar ! '* Madame de Condamin cried 
 gaily, 
 
 Tiie mistress of the house hastened eagerly up to him ; she
 
 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 145 
 
 grasped one of the Abbe's bands within both her own, and (h'ew 
 him into the middle of the room, with wheedling glances and 
 gentle swa3'inys of her head. 
 
 " This is a surprise ! a very pleasant surprise ! " she cried. 
 " It's an age since \vq have seen you ! Is it only w?ien good 
 fortune visits you that you can remember your friends 1 " 
 
 The Abbe Faujas bowed with easy composure. All around 
 him there was immediately a flattering ovation in his honour, a 
 buzzing of enthusiastic women. Madame Delangre and Madame 
 Rastoil did not wait till he came up to them, but they at once 
 hastened to congratulate him upon his appointment, which had 
 been officially announced that morning. The mayor, the 
 magistrate, and even Monsieur de Bourdeu, all stepped up to him 
 and shook his hand heartily. 
 
 " Ah, he's a fine fellow and will go a long way ! " Monsieur 
 de Condamin murmured into Doctor Porquier's ear. " I scented 
 him from the first day I saw him. That grimacing old ]\Iadame 
 Rougon and he tell no end of lies. I have seen him slipping 
 in here at dusk half a score of times. They must be mixed up 
 in some queer things, together." 
 
 Doctor Porquier was terribly afraid of being compromised by 
 Monsieur de Condamin and so he hurried away from him, and 
 hastened, like the others, to grasp the Abb6 Faujas's hand, al- 
 thougli he had never spoken a word to him. 
 
 The priest's triumplial entry was the great event of the 
 evening. He had now seated himself and he was hemmed in 
 by a triple circle of petticoats. He talked with a charming 
 sprightliness and spoke on all sorts of subjects, but carefully 
 avoided replying to any hints or allusions. When Felicite 
 questioned him directly, he merely said that he should not 
 occupy the vicarage and that he preferred remaining in the 
 lodgings where he had been so comfortable for nearly three 
 years. Marthe was present among the other ladies, and was, 
 as usual, extremely reserved. She had only just smiled at the 
 Abb^, watching him from the distance, looking a little pale and 
 seeming rather weary and uneasy. When he signified his in- 
 tention of not quitting the Rue Balande, she blushed and rose 
 from her seat and went into the small drawing-room, appearing 
 to feel suffocated with the heat. Madame Paloque, beside whom 
 Monsieur de Cundamin had seated himself, sniggered as she said 
 to him quite loud enough to be heard : 
 
 K
 
 146 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 
 
 (( 
 
 It's very decorous, isn't it] She certainly might refrain 
 from making assignations with him here, since they have the 
 whole day to themselves ! " 
 
 It was only Monsieur de Condamin who laughed ; every 
 one else received the sally very coldly. Madame Paloque, 
 recognising that she had made a mistake, tried to turn the 
 matter off as a joke. In the corners of the room the guests 
 w^ere discussing the Abbe Fenil. Great curiosity was manifested 
 as to whether he would make his appearance. Monsieur de 
 Bourdeu, who was one of his friends, said with an air of authority 
 that he was indisposed. This statement was received by the 
 company with smothered smiles. Everyone was quite aware of 
 the revolution that had taken place at the bishop's. The Abbe 
 Surin gave the ladies some very interesting details of the 
 terrible scene that had taken place between his lordship and 
 the vicar-general. The latter, on getting the worst of the 
 struggle, had caused it to be reported that he was confined to 
 his room by an attack of gout. But the fight was not over, 
 and the Abbe Surin hinted that there was much more to happen 
 yet, a remark which w^as whispered about the room with little 
 exclamations and shakings of heads and expressions of surprise 
 and doubt. For the moment, at any rate, the A'obe Fanjas 
 was carrying everything before him ; and so the fair devotees 
 sunned themselves pleasantly in the rays of the rising 
 huninary. 
 
 About the middle of the evening tlie Abbe Bourrette arrived. 
 Conversation ceased and everyone looked at him with curiosity. 
 They all knew that he had been expecting to be appointed vicar 
 of Saint-Saturnin's himself. He liad taken the Abbe Compan's 
 duty during his long illness, and he had a lien upon the appoint- 
 ment. He lingered for a moment by the door, a little out of 
 breath and Avith blinking eyes, without being aware of the in- 
 terest which his appearance had excited. Then, catching sight 
 of the Abbe Fanjas, he hastened eagerly up to him, and seizing 
 botli his hands with a show of much pleasure he exclaimed : 
 
 "Ah ! my dear friend, let me congratulate you ! I have just 
 come from your rooms, where your mother told me that you 
 were here. I am delighted to see you." 
 
 The Abbe Fanjas had risen from his seat, and notwithstand- 
 ing his great self-control, he seemed annoyed, taken by surprise 
 by this unexpected display of affection. 
 
 "Yes," he murmured, " I felt bound to accept his lordship's
 
 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 147 
 
 offer in spite of my lack of merit. I refused it, indeed, at first, 
 mentioning to his lordship the names of more deserving priests 
 than myself. I mentioned your own name." 
 
 The Abbe Bourrette blinked his eyes, and taking the Abbe 
 Faujas aside he said to him in low tones : 
 
 "His lordship has told me all about it. Fenil. it seems, 
 would not hear of me. He would have set the whole diocese in 
 a blaze if I had been appointed. Those were his very words. 
 My crime is having closed poor Compan's eyes. He demanded, 
 as you know, the aiDpointment of the Abbe Chardon, a pious 
 man, no doubt, but not of sufficient reputation. Fenil counted 
 upon reigning at Saint-Satui'nin's in his name. It was then 
 that his lordship determined to give you the place and check- 
 mate him. I am quite avenged, and I am delighted, my dear 
 friend. Did you know tlie full story ? " 
 
 " No, not in all its details." 
 
 " Well, it is all just as I have told yon, I can assure you. I 
 have the facts froiu his lordsliip's own lips. Between ourselves, 
 he has hinted to me of a very sufficient recompense. The 
 deputy vicar-general, the Abbe Vial, has for a long time been 
 desirous of going and settling in Rome, and his place will be 
 vacant, you understand. But don't say anything about this. 
 I wouldn't take a big sum of money for my day's work." 
 
 He continued pressing the Abbe Faujii.s's hands, while his 
 great face beamed with satisfaction. The ladies around them 
 were smiling and looking at them in su.rprise. But the worthy 
 man's joy was so frank and unreserved that it communicated 
 itself to the whole of the green drawing-room, where the ovation 
 in the priest's honour took a more familiar and affectionate 
 tone. The ladies grouped themselves together and spoke of the 
 cathedral organ which wanted repairing, and Madame de Con- 
 damin promised a magnificent altar for the procession on the 
 approaching festival of Corpus Christi. 
 
 Tlie Abbe Bourrette was sharing in the general triumph 
 when Madame Paloque, craning out her hideous face, touched 
 him on the shoulder while she murmured in his ear : 
 
 " Your reverence won't then, I suppose, hear confessions to- 
 morrow in Saint-Michael's chapel 1 " 
 
 The priest, while he had been taking the Abb^ Compan's 
 duty, had occupied the confessional in Saint-Michael's chapel, 
 which was the largest and most convenient in tlie church and 
 was specially reserved for the vicar, lie did not at first under-
 
 148 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 
 
 stand the force of Madame Paloque's observation, and he looked 
 at her, blinking his eyes. 
 
 " I am asking," she continued, " if you will resume your old 
 confessional in the chapel of the Holy Angels, to-morrow." 
 
 He turned a little pale and continued silent for a moment 
 or two longer. He bent his gaze to the flooi', and a sliglit 
 shiver ran over the back of his neck, as though he had received 
 a blow from behind. Then, seeing that Madame Paloque was 
 still there staring at him, he stammered out : 
 
 " Certainly ; I shall resume my old confessional. Come to 
 the chapel of the Holy Angels, the last one to the left on the 
 same side as the cloisters. It is very damp, so wrap yourself 
 up well, my dear madame, wrap yourself up well." 
 
 The tears rose to his eyes. He was filled with a regretful 
 longing for the handsome confessional in the chapel of Saint- 
 Michael, into which the warm sun streamed in the afternoon 
 just at the time when he heard confessions. Up till now he had 
 felt no sorrow at relinquishing the cathedral to the Abbe Faujas, 
 but this little matter, this removal from one chapel to another, 
 affected him very painfully, and it seemed to him that he had 
 missed the goal of his life. Madame Paloque told him in her 
 loud voice that he appeared to have grown melancholy all at 
 once, but he protested against this and tried to smile and look 
 cheerful again. He left the drawing-room early in the evening. 
 The Abbe Faujas was one of the last to go. Rougon came 
 up to him to offer his congratulations and they sat talking 
 earnestly together on a couch. They spoke of the necessity 
 of religious feeling in a wisely ordered state. Each lady, on 
 retiring from the room, made a low bow as she passed in 
 front of them. 
 
 " You know, your reverence," Felicite said graciously, " that 
 you are my daughter's cavalier." 
 
 The priest rose from his seat. Marthe was waiting for him 
 nt the door. Wlien they got out into the street, they seemed 
 as though they were blinded by tlie darkness, and they crossed 
 tlie Place of the Sub-Prefecture without a word passing be- 
 tween them; but in the Rue Balande, as they stood in front 
 of the house, Marthe touched the priest's arm just as he was 
 going to put the key into the lock. 
 
 " I am so very pleased at your success," she said to him, 
 in tones of great emotion. " Be kind to me to-day, and grant 
 me the favour which you have hitherto refused. I assure you
 
 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 149 
 
 that the Abbe Bourrette does not understand me. It is only 
 ' j-QU who can direct me and save me." 
 
 He motioned her away from him, and, when he had opened 
 the door and lighted the little lamp which Eose had left at the 
 foot of the stair-case, he went up the stairs, saying to her gently 
 as he did so : 
 
 "You promised me to be reasonable, and I will think over 
 what you have asked. We will talk about it." 
 
 Marthe did not retire to her own room until she had heard 
 the priest close his door on the upper floor. She paid no 
 attention, while she was undressing and getting to bed, to 
 Mouret, who, half asleep, was retailing to her at great length 
 the gossiping stories that were being circulated in the town. 
 He had been at his club, the Commercial Club, a place were he 
 rarely set foot, 
 
 " The Abbe Faujas has got the better of the Abb6 Bour- 
 rette," he repeated for the tenth time as he slowly rolled his 
 head upon the pillow. " Poor Abbe Bourrette ! Well, never 
 mind ! it's good fun to see these parsons devouring each other. 
 The other day when they were hugging each other in the 
 gai-den — you remember it, don't you 1 — any one would have 
 thought that they were brothers. Ah ! they rob each other 
 even of their very penitents. Why don't you say anything, 
 my dear 'i You don't agree with me, eh 1 Or is it because 
 you are going to sleep? Well, well, good-night then, my 
 dear." 
 
 He fell asleep, still muttering fragments of sentences, while 
 Marthe, with widely opened eyes, stared up into the air and 
 followed over the ceiling that was lighted by the night-light 
 the pattering of the Abbe's slippers while he was preparing 
 to go to bed.
 
 150 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 Upon the return of the summer tlie Abbe Faujas and his 
 mother again came downstairs to enjoy the fresh air on the 
 terrace. Moiu-et had become very cross-grained. He dechned 
 the old lady's invitations to play piquet and he sat swaying 
 himself about on a chair. Seeing him yawn, without mak- 
 ing any attempt to conceal how bored he was feeling, Marthe 
 said to him : 
 
 " Why don't you go to your club, my dear 1 " 
 
 He went there now more frequently than he had been used 
 to do. When he returned he found his wife and the Abbe 
 still in the same place on the terrace, while Madame Faujas, 
 a few yards away from them, maintained her attitude of a 
 blind and dumb guardian. 
 
 When anyone in the town spoke to Mouret of the new vicar, 
 he still continued to be very loud in his praises of him. He 
 was, he said, decidedly a superior sort of man, and he himself 
 had never felt any doubt of his great abilities. Madame 
 Paloque could never succeed in drawing a hostile word from 
 him on the subject of the priest, in spite of her malicious habit 
 of askino; him after his wife in the midst of remarks about the 
 Abbe Faujas. Old Madame Rougon had no better success in at- 
 tempts to unveil the secret troubles which she thought she could 
 detect beneath his outward show of cheerfulness, and she laid 
 all sorts of traps for him as she watched his face with her sharp 
 shrewd smile ; but this inveterate gossip, whose tongue was a 
 regular town-crier, now showed the greatest reticence and re- 
 serve when any reference was made to his own household. 
 
 "Your husband, then, has become reasonable at last?" 
 Felicity remarked to her daughter one day. "He leaves you 
 free." 
 
 Marthe looked at her mother with an air of surprise. 
 
 " I have always been free," she said. 
 
 " Ah ! my dear child, I see you don't want to say anything
 
 THE COXQITEST OF PLASSANS. 151 
 
 against liim. You told me once that he looked very un- 
 favourably upon the Abbe Faujas." 
 
 " Nothing of the kind, I assure you ! You must have 
 imagined it. My husband is upon the best terms with the 
 Abbe Faujas. There is nothing whatever to make them other- 
 wise." 
 
 Marthc Avas much astonished at the persistence with which 
 everybody seemed to imagine that her husband and the Abbe 
 were not good friends. Freqiiently at the committee-meetings 
 at the Home of the Virgin the ladies put questions to her 
 which made her quite impatient. She was really very happy 
 and contented, and the house in the Rue Balande had never 
 seemed pleasanter to her than it did now. The Abbe Faujas 
 had given her to understand that he would undertake her 
 spiritual direction when he was of opinion that the Abbe 
 Bourrette was no longer sufficient, and she lived with this 
 hope filling her mind with a simple joy, like some girl at her 
 first communion who is promised some holy picture if she 
 keeps good. Every now and then she felt as though she 
 were becoming a child again, and she experienced a freshness 
 of feeling and child-like impulses which filled her with gentle 
 emotion. Once, in the spring-time, as Mouret was pruning 
 his tall hedges of box, he found her sitting beneath the green 
 arbour in the midst of the young shoots with her eyes stream- 
 ing with tears. 
 
 "What is the matter, my dear?" he asked anxiously. 
 
 "Nothing" she said, with a smile, "nothing at all, really; 
 I am very happy, very." 
 
 He shrugged his shoulders, while he went on delicately 
 cutting the hedge into an even line. He took considerable 
 pride in having the neatest trimmed hedges in the neighbour- 
 hood. Marthe, who had wiped her eyes, began to weep hot 
 streaming tears again, feeling a choking heart-broken sensation 
 at the scent of the severed verdure. She was forty years 
 old now, and it was for her past-away youth that she was 
 weeping. 
 
 Since his appointment as vicar of Saint-Saturnin's, the 
 Abbe Faujas had shown a gentle dignity which seemed to be 
 inci'easing. He carried his breviary and his liat with an air 
 of authority, and he had exhibited such powers at the 
 cathedral as had ensured him the respect of the clergy. T!ie 
 Abbe Fenil, receiving another defeat on two or three matters
 
 152 THE C JNQUEST OF PLASSANS. 
 
 of detail, now seemed to have left his adversary in unoj^posed 
 control. The Abbe Faujas, howevei", was not foolish enough 
 to make any indiscreet use of his triumph, and he showed him- 
 self extremely humble and meek. He was quite conscioiis 
 that Plassans was still a long way from being entirely with 
 him ; and so, though he stopped every now and then in tlie 
 street to shake hands with Monsieur Delangre, he merely 
 exchanged passing salutations with Monsieur de Bourdeu and 
 Monsieur Maffre and the other guests of President Rastoil. A 
 large section of society in the town still looked upon him with 
 suspicion. They found fault with him for the want of 
 explicituess in his political opinions. He ought, they said, to 
 explain himself and declare himself in favour of one party or 
 another. But the Abb6 only smiled and said that he belonged 
 to the honest men's party, a reply which saved him a more 
 explicit declaration. He showed no haste or anxiety, but 
 continued to hold himself aloof till the drawing-rooms should 
 open their doors to him of their own accord. 
 
 " No, my friend, not now ; later on we will see about it," he 
 said to the Abbe Bourrette who had been pressing him to 
 pay a visit to Monsieur Rastoil. 
 
 He was known to have refused two invitations to the 
 Sub-Prefecture, and the Mourets were still the only people 
 with whom he allowed himself to be intimate. There he was, 
 as it were, occupying a post of observation between two 
 hostile camps. On Tuesdays, when the two sets of guests 
 assembled in the gardens on his right and left, he took up his 
 position at his window and watched the sun set in the distance 
 behind the forests of the Seille, and then, before withdrawing, 
 he lowered his eyes and replied with equal amiability to 
 the bows of Monsieur Rastoil's guests as to those of the sub- 
 prefect's. His relations with his neighbours extended as yet 
 no further than this. 
 
 One Tuesday, however, he went down into the garden. He 
 was quite at home now in Mouret's garden. He no longer con- 
 fined himself to pacing up and down beneath the arbour as he 
 read his breviary, but he strolled freely about all the walks and 
 paths, and his cassock glided blackly past all the greenery. 
 On this particular Tuesday, as he was making the tour of the 
 garden, he caught sight of Monsieur MafFre and Madame 
 Rastoil below him and bowed to them, and then as he passed 
 along under the terrace of the Sub-Prefecture, he saw Monsieur
 
 THE CONQUEST OF TLASSANS. 153 
 
 de Condamin leaning there in compan}' with Doctor Porquier. 
 After an exchange of sahitations, tlie priest was going to return 
 along the path, when the doctor called to him. 
 
 "Just a word, your reverence, I beg." 
 
 Then he asked him at what time he could see him on the 
 following day. This was the first occasion upon which any one 
 of the two sets of guests had spoken to the priest from one gar- 
 den to the other. The doctor was in great trouble. His scamp 
 of a son had just been caught in a disorderly house behind the 
 gaol in company with a troop of other worthless characters. 
 The most distressing part of the matter w'as that Guillaume 
 was accused of being the leader of the band and of hav- 
 ing led astray Monsieur MafFre's sons, who were much younger 
 than himself. 
 
 " Pooh ! " Monsieur de Condamin said, with his sceptical 
 laugh ; " young men must sow their vfild oats. What a fuss 
 about nothing ! Here's the whole town in a state of perturba- 
 tion because these young fellows have been caught playing 
 baccarat and there happened to be a lady with them ! " 
 
 The doctor seemed very much shocked. 
 
 "I want to ask your advice," he said, addressing himself to 
 the priest. "Monsieur Maffre came to my house boiling over 
 with anger, and assailed me with the bitterest reproaclies, cry- 
 ing out that it was all my fault and that I had brought my son 
 up badly. I am feeling extremely distressed and troubled. 
 Monsieur Maffre ought to know me better. I have sixty years 
 of stainless life behind me." 
 
 He went on wailing and dwelling upon the sacrifices he had 
 made for his son and expressing fears that he would lose his 
 practice in consequence of the 3'oung man's misconduct. The 
 Abbe Faujas, standing in the middle of the path, raised his 
 head and listened to him gravely. 
 
 " I sliall be only too glad if I can be of any service to you," 
 he said kindly. " I will see Monsieur Maftre and will let him 
 understand that his natural indignation has carried him too far. 
 I will go at once and ask him to appoint a meeting with me for 
 to-morrow. He is over there, on the other side." 
 
 The Abbe crossed the garden and went over towards Monsieur 
 Maffre, who was still there with Madame Rastoil. When the 
 magistrate found that the priest desired an interview witli him, 
 he would not hear of him giving himself any trouble about it, 
 but at once put himself at his disposition and said that
 
 154 THE CONQUEST OF PLAS3ANS. 
 
 he would do himself the honour of calling upon him the next 
 day. 
 
 " Ah ! your reverence," Madame Rastoil said, " let me com- 
 pliment you upon your sermon last Sunday. All the ladies 
 were much affected by it, I can assure you." 
 
 The Abhe bowed and crossed the garden again to reassure 
 Doctor Porquier. Then he continued slowly pacing about the 
 walks till night-fall, without taking part in any further conversa- 
 tions, and still hearing the merriment of the two groups of 
 guests on his right hand and on his left. 
 
 When Monsieur Maffre appeared the next day, the Abbe 
 Faujas was watching through his window a couple of men who 
 were at v/ork repairing the fountain in the garden. He had 
 expressed a desire to see tlie jet playing again ; the empty 
 basin, he said, had a melancholy appearance. Mouret did not 
 seem very willing to have anytliing done, alleging the {)robabil- 
 ity of accidents, but Marthe prevailed upon him to let the re- 
 pairs be executed upon the understanding that the basin should 
 be protected by a railing. 
 
 "Your reverence," said Rose, "his worship the magistrate 
 wants to see you." 
 
 The Abbe Faujas hastened downstairs. He wanted to bring 
 Monsieur Maffre up to his own room on the second-floor, but 
 Rose had already opened the drawing-room door. 
 
 " Go in," she said ; " aren't you at home here 1 There is no 
 use in making his worship go up two flights of stairs. If you 
 had only told me this morning, I would have given the room a 
 dusting." 
 
 As she was closing the door upon the Abbe and the inagis- 
 trate, after having opened the shutters, MoTiret called her into 
 the dining-room. 
 
 "That's right, Rose," he cried, "you had better give my 
 dinner to your priest this evening, and if he hasn't got sufficient 
 blankets of his own upstairs you can put him into my bed." 
 
 The cook exchanged a meaning glance with Marthe, who was 
 working by the window, waiting till the sun had left the terrace. 
 Then, shrugging her shoulders, she said : 
 
 " Ah ! sir, you have never had a charitable heart ! " 
 
 Then she took herself off, while Marthe continued her work 
 without raising her head. For the last few days she had applied 
 herself to her needle-work again with a feverish energy. She 
 was embroidering an altar-frontal as a gift to the cathedral.
 
 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 15n 
 
 The ladies were desiro^is of giving a complete set of altar furni- 
 ture. Madame Rastoil and Madame Delangre bad undertaken 
 to present the candle-sticks, and Madame de Condamin had 
 ordered a magnificent silver crucifix from Paris. 
 
 In the drawing-room the AbbeFaujas was gently remonstrat- 
 ing with Monsieur Matfre, telling him that Doctor Porquier was 
 a religious man and a person of the highest integrity, and that 
 no one was more pained than he himself by his son's deplor- 
 able conduct. The magistrate listened to him with a sancti- 
 monious air, and his heavy face assumed an ecstatic expression 
 at certain pious remarks which the priest uttered in a very 
 moving manner. He allowed that he had been too hot-headed, 
 and he said that he was willing to make every apology as his 
 reverence thought he had been in the wrong. 
 
 '■ You must send your sons to me," said the priest, "and I 
 will talk to them." 
 
 Monsieur Maffre shook his head with a slight laugh. 
 
 " Oh ! you needn't be afraid about them, your reverence. 
 The young scamps won't play any more of their tricks. They 
 have been locked up in their rooms for these last three days 
 with nothing but bread and water. If I had had a stick in my 
 hand wlien I found out what they had been doing, I should 
 have broken it across their backs." 
 
 The Abbe looked at him and recollected how Moixret had 
 accused him of having killed his wife by his harshness and 
 avarice ; then, with a gesture of protestation, he added : 
 
 " No, no ; that is not the way to treat young men. Your 
 elder son, Ambroise, is twenty years old and the younger ip 
 nearly eighteen, isn't he 1 They are no longer children, remem- 
 ber. You must allow them some amusements." 
 
 The magistral e was silent with surprise. 
 
 " Tlien you would let them go on smoking and allow them to 
 frequent the cafe 1 " he said, presently. 
 
 " Certainly," replied the priest, with a smile. " I think that 
 young men should be allowed to meet together to talk and 
 smoke their cigarettes and even to play a game of billiards or 
 chess. They will give themselves every license if you show 
 them no toleration. Only remember that it is not to eveiy 
 cafe that I should be wilHng for them to go. I should like to 
 see a special one provided for them, a sort of club, as I have 
 seen done in several towns." 
 
 Then he unfolded a complete scheme for such a club. Mon-
 
 156 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 
 
 sicur Maffre seemed to gradually take it in and appreciate it. 
 He nodded his head as he said : 
 
 " Capital, capital ! It would be a worthy pendant to the 
 Home of the Virgin. Really, your reverence, we must piit 
 such a splendid idea as this into execution." 
 
 " Well, then," the priest concluded, as he accompanied Mon- 
 sieur MaiTre to the dooi, " since you approve of the plan, just 
 advocate it to your friends. I will see Monsieur Delangre, and 
 speak to him about it. We might meet in the cathedral on 
 Sunday after vespers and come to some decision." 
 
 On the Sunday, Monsieur Maffre brought Monsieur Rastoil 
 with him. They found the Abbe Faujas and Monsieur Delangre 
 in a little room adjoining the sacristy. The gentlemen showed 
 great enthusiasm in favour of the priest's idea, and the institu- 
 tion of a young men's club was agreed upon in principle. 
 There was considerable discussion, however, as to what it 
 should be called. Monsieur MafFre was strongly wishful for it 
 to be known as the Guild of Jesus. 
 
 " Oh, no ! no ! " the priest at last cried impatiently. " You 
 would get scarcely any one to join, and the few members 
 would only be jeered at. There must be no attempt to tack 
 religion on to the business ; indeed, I intend that we should 
 leave religion outside its doors altogether. All we want to do 
 is to win the young people over to our side by providing them 
 with some innocent recreation ; that is all." 
 
 The magistrate gazed at the priest with such an expression 
 of astonishment and anxiety that Monsieur Delangre was obliged 
 to bend his head down to conceal a smile, while he slyly pulled 
 the Abbe's cassock. The priest went on in calmer tones : 
 
 " I am sure, gentlemen, that you do not feel any distnxst of 
 me, and I ask you to leave the managemexit of the matter in 
 my hands. I propose to adopt some very simple name, such a 
 one, for instance, as the Young Men's Club, which quite ex- 
 presses all that is required." 
 
 Monsieur Rastoil and Monsieur MafFre bowed, although this 
 title seemed to them a little weak. They next spoke of nom- 
 inating the vicar as president of a provisional committee. 
 
 " I fancy," said Monsieur Delangre, glancing at the priest, 
 " that that will scarcely meet with his reverence's approbation." 
 
 " Oh dear, no ! " the Abbe exclaimed, slightly shrugging his 
 shoulders. " My cassock would frighten away the timid and 
 luke-warm. We should only get the pious young people, and
 
 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 157 
 
 it is not for them that we are going to found our club. What 
 we want is to gatlier in the wanderex's ; to win converts, in a 
 word ; isn't that so 1 " 
 
 " Clearly," replied the president. 
 
 " Very well, then, it will be better for us to keep ourselves 
 in the background, myself especially. What I propose is this ; 
 your son, Monsieur Rastoil, and yours, Monsieur Delangre, will 
 alone come forward. It must be they who must appear to have 
 formed the idea of this club. Send them to me in the morning, 
 and I will talk the matter over at length with tliem. I have 
 abeady a suitable building in my mind and a code of rules 
 quite prepared. Your two sons. Monsieur MafFre, will naturally 
 be enrolled at the head of the list of members." 
 
 The president seemed flattered at the part that was assigned 
 to his son ; and so matters were arranged in this way, not- 
 withstanding the resistance of the magistrate, who had hoped 
 to win some distinction from the founding of the club. The 
 next day Severin Rastoil and Lucien Delangre put themselves 
 into communication with the Abbe Fanjas. Severin was a tall 
 young man of five-and-twenty, with a badly shaped skull and a 
 dull brain, who had just been called to the bar, thanks to tlie 
 position which his father held. The latter was anxiously 
 dreaming of making him a substitute, despairing of his ever suc- 
 ceeding in winning any practice for himself. Lucien, on tho 
 other hand, was short and sharp-eyed, and he had a crafty 
 brain and pleaded with all the coolness of an old practitioner, 
 although he was a year younger than Severin. The " Plassans 
 Gazette" spoke of him as a future light of the bar. It was 
 especially to him that the Abbe gave the minutest instructions 
 as to his scheme. The president's son went fussing about, 
 bursting with importance. In three weeks the Young Men's 
 Club was founded and opened. 
 
 There was at that time beneath the church of the Minimes, 
 which was situated at the end of the Cours Sauvaire, a series of 
 very large rooms and an old monastery refectory, which were no 
 longer put to any use. This was the place that the Abbe had 
 thought ot for the club. The clergy of the parish very willingly 
 allowed him to iise them. One morning, when the provisional 
 committee of the Young Men's Club had set workmen going in 
 this cellar-like place, the citizens of Plassans were quite as- 
 tuunded at seeing what appeared to be a cafe, fitted up under 
 the cluirch. Five days afterwards there was no longer any
 
 158 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 
 
 room for doubt. It was inclubitcibl}' going to be a cafe. Divans 
 were being brought, marble-topped tables, chairs, two billiard- 
 tables and three crates of crockery and glass. A door was 
 opened out at the end of the building, as far away as possible 
 from the door-way of the church, and great crimson ciirtains, 
 regular restaurant-curtains, were hung behind the glass door, 
 which was reached after a descent of five stone steps. On open- 
 ing this door the visitor found himself in a large hall ; to -the 
 right there was a smaller hall and a reading-room, and in a 
 square room at the far end the two billiard-tables had been 
 placed. They were exactly beneath the high altar. 
 
 " Well, my poor boys," Guillaume Porquier said one day to 
 Monsieur Maii're's two sons, whom he had met on the Cours, 
 " so they are going to make you serve at mass between your 
 games at bezique." 
 
 Ambroise and Alphonse besought him not to speak to them 
 in public, as their father had threatened to send them aAvay to 
 sea if they continued to associate with him. When the first 
 astonishment which it excited was over, the Young Men's Club 
 was a great success. Monseigneur Rousselot had accepted the 
 honorary presidency, and he, had visited it in person one even- 
 ing, attended by his secretary, the Abbe Surin. Each of them 
 drank a glass of currant-syrup in the smaller room, and the 
 glass which his lordship had used was preserved with much 
 resjDect upon a side-board. This story of the bishop's visit is 
 still told with much emotion at Plassans, and it brought about 
 the adherence of all the fashionable young men in the town. 
 It was considered very bad style not to belong to the Young 
 Men's Club. 
 
 Guillaume Porquier, however, used to prowl about the en- 
 trance to tlie club, sniggering like a yoimg wolf that is dream- 
 ing of making its way into the sheep-fold. Notwithstanding 
 all the fear they had of their father, Monsieur Maffre's sons 
 quite worshipped this shameless young man who regaled them 
 with stories of Paris, and entertained them at secret little 
 parties out in the suburbs. They had got into the habit of 
 meeting him regularly every Saturday evening at nine o'clock 
 by a certain seat on the Mail. They slipped away from 
 the club and sat gossiping till eleven, concealed beneath the 
 dark shadow of the plane-trees. Guillaume was perpetually 
 twitting them about the evenings they spent underneath 
 the churcli of the Minimes.
 
 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANB. 159 
 
 "It is very nice for you," lie wovild say, "to let youi-sclvcs 
 be led by the nose like good boys. The verger gives you glasses 
 of sugar and water as though he were administering the com- 
 munion to you, doesn't he 1 " 
 
 "Nothing of the sort ! you are quite mistaken, I can assure 
 you," Arabroise exclaimed. " You might quite fancy you were 
 in the Cafe du Cours, or the Cafe do France, or the Cafe des 
 Voyageurs. We drink beer, or punch, or madeira, whatever we 
 like, and whatever is drunk in other places." 
 
 Guillaume continued to jeer. 
 
 " Well, I shouldn't like to go drinking their dirty stuff," he 
 said. "I should be afraid that they had mixed some drug up 
 with it to make me go to confession. I suppose you amuse your- 
 selves by playing at hot-cockles and puss-in-the-corner ! " 
 
 The young Maffres laughed gaily at his pleasantries, but thoy 
 took care to undeceive him entirely of his erroneous opinions, 
 and they told him that even cards were allowed. There was 
 no flavour of the church about the place at all, they said. The 
 club was extremely pleasant, there were very comfortable 
 couches, and mirrors all over. 
 
 " Well," said Guillaume, " you'll never make me believe that 
 you can't hear the organ when there is an evening service at 
 the church. It would make me swallow my coffee the wrong 
 way only to know that there was a baptism, or a marriage, or a 
 funeral going on over my cup." 
 
 " Well, there is something in that," Alphonse allowed. 
 " Only the other day, while I was playing at billiards with 
 Severin in the day-time, we could distinctly hear that there 
 was a funeral going on. It was the butcher's little girl, the 
 butcher at the corner of tlie Rue de la Banne. That Severin 
 is a gi'eat goose, and he tried to frighten me by telling me that 
 the whole funeral would fall through on to our heads." 
 
 " Ah yes ! it must be a very pleasant place, that club of 
 yours!" cried Guillaume. "I woiildn't set foot in it for all the 
 money in the world ! I'd as soon go and drink my coffee in a 
 sacristy." 
 
 The truth of the matter was that Guillaume was very much 
 vexed that he did not belong to the Young Men's Club. His 
 father had forbiddei) him to offer himself, fearing that he would 
 he rejected. At last, however, the young man got so annoyed 
 about the matter that he sent in an ai)plication to be allowed 
 to join tlic club, without mentioning what he had done to r.ny-
 
 160 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 
 
 one, The question was a very serious one. The committee 
 which elected to membership of the chib then contained the 
 young MafFres amongst its number. Lucien Delangre was the 
 president and Severin Rastoil was secretary. These young 
 men felt terribly embarrassed. While they did not dare to 
 grant Guillaume's petition, they were most unwilling to do 
 anything to hurt the feelings of Doctor Porquier, so worthy 
 and irreproachable a person as he was, and so completely 
 trusted by all the fashionable ladies. Ambroise and Alphonse 
 begged Guillaume not to press his application any further, 
 giving him to understand that he had no chance of being- 
 admitted. 
 
 "You are a couple of pitiful poltroons!" he cried to them. 
 " Do you suppose that I care a fig about joining your brother- 
 hood 1 I was only amusing myself. I wanted to see if you 
 would have the courage to vote against me. I shall have a 
 good laugh when these hypocrites shut the door in my face. 
 As for you, my good little boys, you can go and amuse yourselves 
 where you like ; I shall never speak to you again." 
 
 The young MafFres, in great consternation, besought Lucien 
 Delangre to try and arrange matters in such a way as would 
 obviate as far as possible any unpleasantness. Lucien submitted 
 the difficulty to his usual adviser, the Abbe Faujas, for whom 
 he had conceived a genuine disciple's admiration. The Abbe 
 came to the Young Men's Club every afternoon from five o'clock 
 till six. He went through the great room with a pleasant 
 smile, nodding and sometimes stopping at one of the tables 
 for a few minutes to chat with a group of young men. He 
 never accepted anything to drink, not even a glass of water. 
 Then he used to pass into the reading-room, and, taking a seat 
 at the great table with its green cloth, he attentively pored 
 over all the newspapers which the club took in, the legitimist 
 organs of Paris and the neighbouring departments. Occasionally 
 he made a rapid note in a little pocket-book. After this, he 
 went quietly away, smiling again at the members who were 
 present, and shaking hands with them. Some days^ however, 
 he remained for a longer time, and would watch a game at 
 chess, and chat merrily about all kinds of matters. The young 
 men, who were extremely fond of him, used to say of him that 
 when he talked no one would take him for a priest. 
 
 When the mayor's son told him of the embarrassment which 
 Guillaume's application had caused the commit ri^n -i'
 
 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. IGl 
 
 Faiijfis promised to arrange the affair ; and the next morning 
 he went to see Doctor Porquier, to whom he rehited the matter. 
 The doctor was aghast. His son, he cried, was determined to 
 kill him with distress by dishonouring his grey hairs. "What 
 could be done at this stage of affairs ? Even if the application 
 were withdrawn, the shame and disgrace would be none the 
 less. The priest advised him to send Guillaume away for tAvo 
 or three months to an estate which he possessed a few leagues 
 from Plassans, and undertook to charge himself with the further 
 conduct of the aflair. As soon as Guillaume had left the 
 town, the committee postponed the consideration of his 
 application, saying that there was no occasion for haste in the 
 matter, and tliat a decision- could be taken later on. 
 
 Doctor Porquier heard of this solution of the atfair from 
 Lucien Delangre one afternoon Avhen he was in the garden of 
 the Sub-Prefecture. He immediately hastened on to the terrace. 
 It was the time when the Abbe Faujas read his breviar3% 
 Doctor Porquier caught sight of him under the ^lourets' arbour. 
 
 "Ah! your reverence!" he cried, "how can I thank you 1 
 I should like very much to shake hands with you." 
 
 " The wall is rather high," said the priest, looking at it with 
 a smile. 
 
 But Doctor Porquier was a man full of energy, and was not 
 to be discouraged by obstacles. 
 
 " Wait a moment ! " he cried. " If your reverence will allow 
 me, I will come round." 
 
 Then he disappeared. The Abbe, still smiling, bent his 
 steps slowly towards the little door which openetl into tlio 
 Chevillottes alley. The doctor was already gently knocking 
 at it. 
 
 "Ah! this door is nailed up," said tlie priest. "One of 
 the nails is broken though. If one had any sort of a tool, 
 tliere would be no difficulty in getting the other one out." 
 
 He glanced round him and caught sight of a spade. Then, 
 with a slight effort, he opened the door, after he had drawn 
 hack the bolts, and stepped out into the Chevillottes alley, 
 where Doctor Porquier overwhelmed him with thanks and 
 compliments. As they walked along the alley, talking, 
 Monsieur Maffre, who happened at the time to be i"n Monsieur 
 llastoil's garden, opened the little door that was hidden awwy 
 behind the water- fall. The gentlemen were nmcli amused to 
 faid themselves all three in this descried liule alley,
 
 162 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 
 
 They remained there for a few moments, and, when they 
 took leave of the Abbe, the magistrate and the doctor poked 
 their heads inside the Mourets' garden, and looked about with 
 curiosity. 
 
 Mourct, however, who was putting in stakes for his tomatoes, 
 causht siuht of them as he raised his head. He was lost in 
 astonishment. 
 
 " Hallo ! so they've made their way in here now ! " he mur- 
 mured to himself. " The vicar has only got now to bring in 
 the two tribes ! "
 
 163 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 Sehge was now nineteen years of age. He occupied a small 
 room on the second floor, opposite to the priest's, where he led 
 an almost cloistered life, spending much time in reading. 
 
 " I shall have to thro^v those old books of yours into the fire," 
 ^fouret said to him angrily. "You'll end by making yourself 
 ill and having to take to your bed." 
 
 The young man was, indeed, of such a nervous temperament, 
 that the slightest imprudence brought on ailments in him as 
 though he were a young girl, ailments which frequently 
 confined him to his room for two or three days together. 
 At these times Rose inundated him with decoctions, and when 
 Mouret went upstairs to shake his son up a little, as he called 
 it, the cook, if she happened to be there, would turn her master 
 out of the room and cry out at him : 
 
 " Leave the poor dear alone ! Can't you see that you are 
 killing him with your rough ways 1 It isn't after you that he 
 takes ; he is the very image of his mother ; and you'll never be 
 able to understand either the one or the other of them." 
 
 Serge smiled. His father, seeing him so delicate, had hesi- 
 tated to send him to read for the bar at Paris after leaving 
 college. He would not hear, however, of a provincial faculty ; 
 Paris, he felt sure, was necessary to a young man who wanted 
 to mount high. He instilled ambitious ideas into the lad, and 
 told him that many with much weaker wits than his own, his 
 cousins, the Rougons, for instance, had attained to great dis- 
 tinction. Every time that the young man seemed getting more 
 robust, his father settled that he should leave home early in 
 the following month ; but his trunk never got packed, for Serge 
 would get a slight cough and then his departure would be 
 again postponed. 
 
 On eacli of these occasions Marthe contented herself by saying 
 with affectionate indifference : 
 
 " He isn't twenty yet. It is really not quite prudent to 
 Bend so young a lad to Paris ; and, besides, he isn't wasting
 
 164 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 
 
 his time here ; you even think, you know, that he works too 
 hard." 
 
 Serge used to go with his mother to mass. He was very 
 piously minded, and was very gentle and grave. Doctor Por- 
 quier had recommended him to take a good deal of exercise, 
 and he had become enthusiastically fond of botany, going oft' 
 on long rambles to collect specimens which he spent his after- 
 noons in drj'ing and mounting and classifying and naming. It 
 was about that time that he struck up a great friendship with 
 the Abbe Faujas. Tbc Abbe had botanized in earlier days, and 
 he gave Serge much practical advice for which the yoimg man 
 ■was ver}' gratefiil. They lent each other books, and one day 
 they went off together to try to discover a certain plant which 
 the priest said he thought would be found in the neighbourhood. 
 When Serge was unwell, his neighbour came to see him every 
 morning, and he sat and talked for a long time at his bed-side. 
 At other times, when the young man was well, it was he who 
 went and knocked at the Abbe Faujas's door, as soon as he 
 heard him stirring in his room. They were only separated by 
 a narrow lauding, and they ended by almost living together. 
 
 In spite of Marthe's unruffled tranquillity and Eose's angry 
 glances, Mouret still often indulged in bursts of anger. 
 
 " What can the young scamp be after up there?" he would 
 growl. " Wliole days pass without my doing more than just 
 catch a glimpse of him. He seems never to stir away from the 
 Abbe ; they are alwaj's talking together in some corner or other. 
 He shall be off to Paris at once. He's as strong as a Turk. 
 All these ailments of his are mere shams, excuses to get him- 
 self petted and coddled. You needn't both of you look at me 
 in that way; I don't mean to let the priest make a hypocrite of 
 him." . 
 
 Then he began to keep a watch over his son, and when he 
 thought that he was in the Abbe's room he called for him 
 angrily. 
 
 " I would rather he went off" to some woman's ! " he cried one 
 day in a rage. 
 
 *' Oh, sir ! " said Rose, " it is abominable to say such things." 
 
 " Yes, indeed, I would ! And I'll take him there myself one 
 of these days, if you irritate me much moi'e with these j)arsons 
 of yours ! " 
 
 Serge naturally joined the Young Men's Club, though he went 
 there but little, preferring the solitude of his own room. If it
 
 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSAKS. 105 
 
 had not been for the Abbe Faujas, whom he sometimes met 
 there, he would probably never have set his foot in the place. 
 The Abbe taught him to play chess in the reading-room. 
 :Mouret, who knew that the lad met the priest at the cafe, swore 
 that he would pack him off by the train on the following 
 Monday. His luggage was got ready, and quite seriously this 
 time, when Serge, who had gone out to spend a last day in the 
 open country, returned home drenched to the skin by a sudden 
 down-pour o'^f rain. He was obliged to go to bed and his teeth 
 chattered with fever. For three weeks he himg between life 
 and death, and his convalescence lingered during two long 
 months, and at the commencement of it he was so weak that 
 he lay with his head on the pillow and his arms stretched over 
 the sheets like a wax figure. 
 
 "It is your fault, sir !" cried the cook to Mouret. "You will 
 have it on your conscience if the boy dies." 
 
 While his son continued in danger, ^louret wandered silently 
 about the house, plunged in a gloomy melancholy, and with 
 his eyes red with crying. He seldom went upstairs but paced 
 up and down the passage, waiting to intercept the doctor as he 
 went away. When he was told that Serge was at length out of 
 danger, he glided quietly into his room and offered his help. 
 But Rose turned him away. They had no occasion for him, 
 she said, and the lad was not yet strong enough to bear his 
 roughness. He had much better go and attend to his business 
 instead of getting in the way there. Then Mouret remained 
 in complete loneliness downstairs, more melancholy and un- 
 occupied than ever. He felt no inclination for anything, he 
 said. As he went along the passage, he often heard on the 
 second floor the voice of the Abbe Faujas, who spent the whole 
 afternoons by Serge's bed-side, now tliat he was growing better. 
 
 " How is he, to-day, your reverence 1 " Mouret asked the 
 priest timidly, as he met the latter going down into tlie 
 garden. 
 
 '•01), fairly well; but it will be a long convalescence and 
 very great care will be required." 
 
 The priest read his breviary tranquilly, while the father, 
 with a pair of shears in his hand, followed him up and down 
 the walks, trying to renew the conversation and to get more de- 
 tailed information about his boy. As his sou's convalescence 
 progressed, he remarked that the priest scarcely ever left Serge's 
 room. He had gone upstairs several tipies in the wouien's
 
 ICG THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 
 
 absence, and he had always found the Abbe at the young man's 
 bed-side, talking softly to him, and rendering him all kinds of 
 little services, sweetening his drink, straightening his bed-clotlies, 
 or getting him anything he happened to want. There was a 
 hushed murmur throughout the house, the soft sound of words 
 exchanged between Marthe and Rose, a solemn calm which 
 gave a quite conventual feeling to the second floor. Mouret 
 seemed to smell the odour of incense in the house, and he could 
 almost fancy sometimes, as he heard the muttered voices, that 
 they were saying mass upstairs. 
 
 " What can they be doing ] " he wondered. " The youngster 
 is out of danger now ; they can't be giving him extreme 
 unction," 
 
 Serge himself caused him much disquiet. He looked like a 
 girl as he lay in his white night-dress. His eyes seemed to 
 have grown larger, and there was a soft ecstatic smile vipon his 
 lips, which still played there even in the midst of his keenest 
 pangs of suffering. Mouret no longer ventured to say anything 
 about Paris ; his dear sick boy seemed too girlish and tender 
 for such a subject. 
 
 One afternoon he went upstairs, carefully hushing the souna 
 of his steps. Through the half-opened door he saw Serge sitting 
 in an easy chair in the s\inshine. The young man was crying 
 with his eyes turned up to the sky, while his mother was sobbing 
 in front of him. They both turned round as they heard the 
 door open, but they did not dry their tears. As soon as 
 Mouret entered the room, the invalid said to him in his feeble 
 voice : 
 
 " I have a favour to ask you, father. My mother says that 
 you will be angry and will refuse me a permission wliich would 
 fill me with joy. I want to enter the Seminary." 
 
 He clasped his hands together in a sort of feverish devotion. 
 
 "You ! you !" exclaimed Mouret. 
 
 He looked at Marthe, who turned away her head. He said 
 nothing further, but walked to the window and then returned 
 and sat down mechanically by the side of the bed, as though 
 overwhelmed by some blow. 
 
 " Father," Serge resumed after a long silence, " in my near- 
 ness to death I have seen God, and I have sworn to be His. I 
 assiire you all my happiness is centred in that. Believe me 
 that it is so, and do not cause me grief." 
 
 Mowret still kept silence. His face was very sombre and his
 
 THE CONQUEST OF TLASRANS. 167 
 
 eyes sought the ground. At last, with an expression of utter 
 hopelessness, he murmured : 
 
 " If I had the least particle of courage, T should wrap up a 
 couple uf shirts in a handkerchief and go away." 
 
 Tlien he rose from his seat, went to the window and 
 began to drum on the panes with his fingers ; and when Serge 
 ag&in commenced to implore him, he said very quietly : 
 
 " Very well, my boy ; be a priest." 
 
 Then he left the room. The next day, without the least 
 warning to any one, he set off for Marseilles, where he spent a 
 week with his son Octave. He came back looking care-worn 
 and aged. Octave had afforded him very little consolation. 
 He had found the young man leading a fast life, overwhelmed 
 with debt and hiding his mistresses in wardrobes. Howevei", 
 he did not say a word about these matters. He began to lead 
 a perfectly sedentary life, and no longer made any of those 
 good strokes of business, those fortunate purchases of staiading 
 crops, in which he had formerly taken such a pride. Hose 
 noticed that he maintained an almost unbroken silence and that 
 he even avoided saluting the Abbe Faujas. 
 
 "Do you know that yon are not very polite]" she said boldly 
 to him one day. " His reverence the vicar has just gone past 
 and you turned your back upon him. If you are behaving in 
 this way because of the boy, you are acting under a great mis- 
 take. His reverence was quite against his going to the Semin- 
 ary, and I have often heard him talking to him against it. 
 This house is getting a very cheerful place, indeed, now ! 
 You never speak a word, even to madame, and when you have 
 your meals, anyone would think that it was a funeral that was 
 going on. For my part, sir, I'm beginning to feel that I've had 
 quite enough of it." Mouret went out of the room, but the 
 cook followed him into the garden. 
 
 " Haven't you every reason to be happy, now that your son 
 is on his feet again 1 He ate a cutlet yesterday, the darling, 
 and with such a good ajipetite too. But you care nothin;^ 
 about that, do you 1 What you want is to make a pagan cif 
 him, like yourself. Ah ! you stand in great need of some one 
 to pray for you, and it is God Almighty who is wishing to savo 
 us all. If I were you I should weep with joy to think that 
 that poor little dear was going to pray for mo. But you ai-e 
 made of stone, sir ! And how sweet he will look too, the dar- 
 ling, in his cassock ! "
 
 168 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 
 
 Then Mouret went up to the first floor, and shut himself up 
 in a room which he called his study, a great bare room, 
 furnished only with a table and a couple of chairs. This room 
 became his refuiJ'e at the times when the cook worried him. 
 "When he grew weary of staying there, he went down again into 
 the garden, upon which he expended greater care than ever. 
 Marthe no longer seemed to be conscious of her husband's dis- 
 pleasure. Sometimes he kept silent for a week, without her 
 being in any way disquieted or distressed by it. Every day she 
 was withdrawing herself more and more from what concerned 
 him, and she even began to fancy, now that the house seemed 
 so quiet and peaceable and she had ceased to hear Mouret 
 scolding angrily, that he had grown more reasonable and had 
 discovered for himself, as she had done, some little nook of hap- 
 piness. This thought had a calming influence upon and tended 
 to plunge her more deeply in her dreamy life. When her hus- 
 band looked at her with his troubled eyes, scarcely recog- 
 nizing in her his wife of other days, she only smiled at hiin 
 and did not notice the tears which were swelling beneath 
 his eyelids. 
 
 On the day that Serge, now completely restored to health, 
 entered the Seminary, Mouret remained at home alone with 
 Desiree. He frequently kept her with him now. This great 
 girl, who was now nearly sixteen, would have been as likely t > 
 fall into the basin of the fountain or to set the house on fire by 
 playing with matches as a child of six. When Marthe re- 
 turned home, she foxmd the doors open and the rooms emptv. 
 The house seemed quite deserted. She went down on to the 
 terrace, and there, at the end of one of the walks, she saw her 
 husband playing with his daughter. He was sitting on the 
 ground upon tlie gi'avel, and was gravely filling with a little 
 wooden scoop a cart which Desiree was pulling ^vith a piece of 
 string. 
 
 '■ Gee up ! gee up ! " cried the girl. 
 
 " Wait a little," said her father patiently, " it is not full yet. 
 As you are the horse, you must wait till the cart is full." 
 
 Then she scraped her feet like an impatient horse, and, at 
 last, not being able to stand still any longer, she set oft' with a 
 loud burst of laughter. The cart fell over and lost its load. 
 When she had dragged It round the gai'den, she came back to 
 lier father, crying otit : 
 
 " Fdl it ao-aiu ! Fill it again ! " 
 
 -o-
 
 MOUEET PLAYING WITH DESIEEE. 
 
 p. 168.
 
 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 109 
 
 Mouret loaded it again with the little scoop. Marthe had 
 remained npon the terrace watching them, filled with nncasy 
 emotion. The open doors, the sight of the man playing with 
 the child, the empty deserted house, all touched her with a 
 feeling of sadness, without her being clearly conscious of what 
 it was that was affecting her. She went upstairs to take off her 
 things, and heard Rose, who had also just then returned, ex- 
 claiming from the terrace steps : 
 
 " Good gracious ! how silly the master is ! " 
 
 His friends, the retired traders with whom he took a turn or 
 two every day on the promenade in the Cours Sauvaire, declared 
 that he was a little " touched." During the last few montlis 
 his hair had grown grizzled, and he had begun to get shaky 
 npon his legs, and he was no longer the biting jeerer, feared by 
 the whole town. For a little time it was thought that he had 
 been venturing upon some risky speculation and was overcome 
 by a heavy loss of money. 
 
 Madame Paloque, as she leaned against the window of her 
 dining-room which looked into the Rue Balande, said that he 
 was certainly going to the bad every time she saw him. And 
 if, a few moments later, she happened to catch sight of the 
 Abbe Faujas passing along the street, she took a delight in 
 exclaiming, the more especially if she had visitors with her : 
 
 "Just look at his reverence the vicar! Isn't he growing 
 sleek 1 If he eats out of the same dish as Mouret, he can't 
 leave him anything but the bones." 
 
 Then she laughed, as did those who heard her. The Abbe 
 Faujas was, indeed, becoming quite an imposing objec>; he 
 now always w^ore black gloves and a shimmering cassock, A 
 peculiar smile played about his face, a sort of ironical twist of 
 his lips, when Madame de Condamin complimented him upon 
 his appearance. The ladies liked to see him well and comfort- 
 al>ly dressed ; though the priest himself would probably have 
 preferred fighting his way with naked arms and clenched fists, 
 and never a thought about what he wore. Whenever he ajj- 
 pcared to be gi-owing neglectful, the slightest hint of reproach 
 from old Madame Rougon was sufiicient to cure him, and he 
 went off to buy silk stockings and a new hat and girdle. He 
 was frequently requiring new clothes, for his great frame seemed 
 to soon wear theni out. 
 
 Since the foundation of the Home of tlic Virgin, all the 
 women had been on his sidej and they defended him against the
 
 170 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 
 
 calumnious stones which were still occasionally repeated, with- 
 out any one being able to clearly get at their origin. Now and 
 then they found him a little blunt, but this roughness of his 
 by no means offended them, least of all in the confessional, 
 where they rather liked to feel Lis iron hand pressing down 
 upon their necks. 
 
 " He gave me such a scolding yesterday, my dear," Madame 
 Condamin said to Marthe one day. " I believe he would have 
 struck me if there had not been the partition between us. He 
 is not always very easy to get on with ! " 
 
 She laughed gently and seemed to be enjoying the recollec- 
 tion of this scene with her director. Madame de Condamin 
 had observed Marthe turn pale when she had made her certain 
 confidences as to the Abbe Faujas's manner of hearing confes- 
 sions, and she had divined her jealousy, and took a mischiev- 
 ous pleasure in tormenting her by telling her further private 
 little details. 
 
 When the Abbe Faujas had founded the Young Men's Club, 
 he became quite sociable and gay ; he seemed to have under- 
 gone a transformation. His stern nature moulded itself like 
 soft wax beneath the pressure of a strong effort of his will. 
 ITe allowed the part which he had taken in the founding of the 
 club to be made public, and he became the friend of all the 
 young men in the town, and he kept a strict watch over his 
 manner, knowing well that young men just fresh from college 
 had not the same taste for roughness of speech and demeanour 
 as the women had. He narrowly escaped losing his temper 
 with young Rastoil, whose ears he threatened to pull, over a 
 disagreement about the management of the club ; but, with a 
 surprising command over himself, he put out his hand to him 
 almost immediatel}' afterwards, humbling himself and winning 
 over to his side all who were present by his gracious apologies 
 to "that great fool of a Saturnin," as they called him. 
 
 Though the Abbe had conquered the women and the young 
 men, he still remained on a footing of merely formal politeness 
 with the fathers and husbands. Tlie grave gentlemen con- 
 tinued to distrust him as they saw him still refraining from 
 identifying himself with any political party. At the Sub-Pre- 
 fecture Monsieur Pequeur des Saulaies discussed him with 
 much animation, while Monsieur Delangre, without definitely 
 defending him, said that they ought to wait before judging 
 him. At Monsieur Rastoil's he had become a source of much
 
 THE CONQUEST OF TLASSANS. 171 
 
 tribulation to the president. Severin and his mother never 
 ceased wearying him with their constant eulogies of the priest. 
 
 " Well ! well ! let him have every good quality under the 
 sun ! " cried the unhappy man. " I won't dispute one of them, 
 only leave me at peace. I have asked him to dinner, but he 
 wouldn't come. I can't go and drag him here by the arm ! " 
 
 "No, but my dear," said Madame Rastoil, "when you meet 
 him you scarcely bow to him. It's tliat, I daresay, that has 
 made him rather cold." 
 
 "Of course it is," interposed Severin, "he sees very well that 
 you are not as polite to him as you ought to be." 
 
 Monsieur Rastoil shrugged his shoulders. When Monsieur 
 de Bourdeu was there, the pair of them accused the Abbe 
 Faujas of leanings towards the Sub-Prefecture, though Madame 
 Rastoil directed their attention to the fact that he never dined 
 there, and that he had never even set foot in the house. 
 
 "Oh, don't imagine that I am accusing him of being a Bona- 
 partist," said the president. " I only remarked that he had 
 leanings that way ; that was all. He has had communications 
 with Monsieur Delangre." 
 
 "Well! and so have you!" cried Severin; "you have had 
 communications with the mayor ! They are absolutely neces- 
 sary under certain circumstances. Tell the truth and say you 
 detest the Abbe Faujas; it will be much more straightforward." 
 
 For whole days at a time the Rastoils sulked with each 
 other. The Abbe Fenil came to see them but very rarely now, 
 excusing himself upon the ground that he was kept in the 
 house by his gout; but twice, when he had been forced to ex- 
 press an opinion as to the vicar of Saint-Saturnin's, he had said 
 a few short sentences in his praise. The Abbe Surin and the 
 Abbe Bourrette, as well as Monsieur MafFre, held the same views 
 as the mistress of the house concerning the Abbe Faujas, and 
 the opposition to him came only from IMonsieur Rastoil, backed 
 up by Monsieur de Bourdeu, both of whom gravely declared 
 that they could not compromise their political positions by re- 
 ceiving a man who concealed his opinions. 
 
 Severin now began to go and knock at the little door in the 
 Chevillottes alloy wlicnever he wanted to say anything to the 
 priest, and gradually tiie alley became a sort of neutral ground. 
 Doctor Porquier, who had been the first to avail himself of it, 
 young Delangre, and the magistrate, all came tliere to talk to 
 the Abb6 Faujas. Sometimes the little doors of both the gar-
 
 172 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 
 
 dens, as well as the cart-entrance to the Sub-Prefecture, were 
 kept open for a whole afternoon, Avhile the Abbe was leaning 
 agahist the wall at the end of the blind alley, smiling and 
 shaking hands with the members of the two groups of guests 
 who were wishful to come and have a word with him. ^Monsieur 
 Pequeur des Saulaies, however, carefully refrained from leaving 
 the garden of the Sub-Prefecture, and Monsieur Piastoil and 
 Monsieur de Bourdeu were equally persistent in never showing 
 themselves in the alley, remaining seated beneath the trees in 
 front of the waterfall. It was but very seldom that the priest's 
 little court invaded the Mourets' arbour. Now and then a 
 head just peeped inside, took a hasty glance round and quickly 
 disappeared. 
 
 The Abbe Faujas now seemed quite at ease. He scarcely 
 ever glanced with a look of disquietude at the windows of the 
 Trouches, through which Olympe's eyes were constantly glisten- 
 ing. The Trouches kept themselves in ambush there behind 
 the crimson curtains, consumed by an envious desire to come 
 down like the Abbe and eat the fruit, and talk to the fashionable 
 society. They tapped on the shutters, and leant their heads 
 out of the window for a momeut, and then withdrew them in 
 obedience to the authoritative glances of the priest ; then with 
 stealthy step they would come and glue their pale faces behind 
 one of the panes, and keep watch over his every movement, 
 quite tortured to see him enjoying himself so completely at his 
 ease in this j^aradise that was forbidden to them. 
 
 " It is really too abominable ! " Olympe exclaimed one day to 
 her husband. " He would lock us up in a cupboard, if he could, 
 so as to deprive us of every atom of enjoyment. We will go 
 down if you like, and we will see what he says." 
 
 Trouche had just returned from his oflice. He put on a 
 clean collar and dusted his boots, anxious to make himself as 
 neat as possible. Olympe put on a light dress, and then they 
 both boldly went downstairs into the garden, walking with short 
 steps along the tall hedges of box and stopping in front of the 
 flower-beds. 
 
 Just at that moment the Abbe Faujas happened to have his 
 back turned to them. He was standing at the little door that 
 opened into the alley, talking to Monsieur MafFre. When he 
 heard their steps grating upon the gravel, the Trouches had 
 got lip close behind him and were underneath the arbour. He 
 turned round, and checked himself in the middle of a sentencCj
 
 THE CONQUEST OF fLASSANS. 173 
 
 quite astounded at seeing them there. Monsieur MatTre, wlio 
 did not know them, was looking at them \Yith curiosit}'. 
 
 " A beautiful da}-, isn't it, gentlemen 1 " said Olympc, who 
 had turned pale beneath her brother's gaze. 
 
 The Abbe abruptly dragged the magistrate into the alley, 
 where he quickly freed himself from him. 
 
 " He is furious ! " murmured Olympe. " Well, we had 
 better stay where we are now. If we go back upstairs, he will 
 think we are afraid of him. I've had quite enough of this 
 kind of going on, and you will see what I will say to him." 
 
 She made Trouche sit down on one of the chairs which Hose 
 had brought out a short time previously. When the Abbe re- 
 turned he found them tranquilly settled there. He pushed the 
 bolts of the little door into their sockets, glanced quickly round 
 to assure himself that the trees screened them from observation, 
 and then he came close up to the Trouches, exclaiming in 
 suppressed tones : 
 
 " You forget our agreement. You undertook to remain in 
 your own rooms." 
 
 " It was too hot up there," Olympe replied. "We are not com- 
 mitting any crime by coming down here to get a little fresh air." 
 
 The priest was going to break out angrilj^, but his sister, 
 who was still quite pale from the effort she had made in resist- 
 ing him, added in a peculiar tone : 
 
 "Don't make a noise, now! There are some people over 
 there, and vou might do vourself harm." 
 
 Both the Trouches laughed slightly. The Abbe fixed his 
 eyes upon them with a terrible expression, but without speaking. 
 
 "Sit down," said Olympe. "You want an explanation, dtm't 
 you ] Well, you shall have one. We are tired of imprisoning 
 ourselves. You are living here in clover ; the house seems to 
 belong to you, and so does the garden. So much the better, 
 indeed ; and we are delighted to see how well things appear to be 
 going with you, but you mustn't treat us as dirt beneath 
 your feet. You have never thought of bringing me up a single 
 bunch of grapes ; you have given us the most miserable i-oom ; 
 you hide us away and are ashamed of us ; and you shut us up 
 as though we had the plague. You must understand that this 
 can't go on any longer ! " 
 
 *' I am not the master here," replied the Ablw Fuiijas. 
 " You must address yourselves to Monsieur Mouret if you want 
 to strip his garden."
 
 1?4 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 
 
 " We don't want to pry into your affairs," Olmype continued. 
 " We know what we know, and that is sufficient for us. But 
 all this proves what a bad heart you have. Do you think that 
 if we were in your position we shouldn't invite you to come and 
 take your share in the good things that were going? " 
 
 " What is it that you want me to do 1 " demanded the Abbe. 
 " Do you suppose that I am rolling in wealth 1 You know 
 what sort of a room I occupy myself ; it is more scantily fur- 
 nished than 3^our own. The house isn't mine, and I can't 
 bestow it upon jo\i." 
 
 Olympe shrugged her shoulders. She silenced her husband 
 who was beginning to speak, and then she calmly continued : 
 
 "Everyone has his own ideas of life. If you had millions 
 you wouldn't buy a strip of carpet for your bed-side ; you would 
 spend them all in some foolish scheme. We, on the other hand, 
 like to be comfortable. Dare you say that if you had a fancy 
 for the handsomest furniture in the house and for the linen and 
 food and anything else it contains you couldn't have them this 
 very evening 1 Well, in such circumstances a good brother 
 would think of his relations, and wouldn't leave them in wretch- 
 edness and squalor as you leave us ! " 
 
 The Abbe Faujas looked keenly at the Trouches. They were 
 both swaying themselves backwards and forwards upon their 
 chairs. 
 
 " You are a couple of ungrateful people," he said after a 
 moment's silence. " I have already done a great deal for you. 
 You have me to thank for the food that you have now. I still 
 have letters of yours, Olympe, letters in which you beseech me 
 to rescue you from misery by bringing you over to Plassans. 
 Now that you are here and your livelihood is assured, you break 
 out into fresh demands." 
 
 "Stuff!" Trouche impudently interrupted. "You sent for 
 us here because you wanted vis. I have learned to my cost not 
 to believe in anyone's fine talk. I have allowed my wife to 
 speak, but women can never come to the point. In two words, 
 my good friend, you are making a mistake in keeping us cooped 
 up like watch-dogs, who are only brought out in the hour of 
 danger. We are getting weary of it, and we shall end by doing 
 something rash, perhaps. Confound it all ! give us a little 
 liberty. Since the house isn't yours and you despise all 
 luxury, what harm can it do you if we make ourselves comfort- 
 able ? We sha'n't eat the walls ! "
 
 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 175 
 
 " It's only natural," exclaimed Olympe, " that we should 
 rebel against being constantly locked up. We will take care 
 not to do anything to prejudice you. You know that my hus- 
 band only requires the least sign from you. Go your own way, 
 and you may depend upon us ; but let us go ours. Is that 
 understood, eh 1 " 
 
 The Abbe Faujas had bent his head down ; he remained 
 silent for a moment, and then, raising his eyes, and avoiding a 
 direct reply, he said : 
 
 " Hearken to what I say. If ever you do anything to hamper 
 me, I swear to you that I will send you away to starve in a 
 cellar." 
 
 Then he went back into the house, leaving them under the 
 arbour. From this time the Trouches went down into the 
 garden almost every day, but they conducted themselves with 
 considerable discretion, and they refrained from going there at 
 the times when the priest was talking with the guests from the 
 neighbouring gardens. 
 
 The following week Olympe complained so much of the room 
 she was occupying that Marthe kindly offered her Serge's, which 
 was now at liberty. The Trouches kept both rooms. They 
 slept in the young man's old bedroom, from which not a single 
 article of furniture bad been removed, and they made the other 
 room into a sort of drawing-room, for which Rose found 
 them some old velvet-covered furniture in the lumber-room. 
 Olympe in great delight ordered a rose-coloured dressing-gown 
 fi"om the best maker in Plassans. 
 
 Mouret, who had forgotten that Marthe had asked his per- 
 mission to let the Trouches have Serge's room, was quite surprised 
 to find them there one evening. He had gone up to look for a 
 knife which he thought his son must have left in one of the 
 drawers, and, as he entered the room, he saw Trouche trimming 
 Avith this very knife a switch which ho had just cut from one 
 of the pear-trees in the garden. Then he apologised and went 
 downstairs again.
 
 176 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 During the public procession on the Feast of Corpns Christi, 
 when Monseigneur lloiisselot came down the steps of the magni- 
 ficent altar in the Place of the Snb-Prefectnve which had been 
 set up through the generosity of Madame de Condamin by tlie 
 very door of the small house which she occupied, it was noticed 
 with much surprise by the spectators that the bishop abruptly 
 turned his back upon the Abbe Faujas. 
 
 " Ah ! has there been some disagreement between them 1 " 
 exclaimed Madame Rougon, who was looking out of her drawing 
 room window. 
 
 " Didn't you know about it 1 " asked Madame Paloque, who 
 was leaning by the old lady's side. *' It has been the talk of 
 the town since yesterday. The Abbe Fenil has been restored 
 to favour." 
 
 Monsieur de Condamin, who was standing behind the ladies, 
 began to laugh. He had made his escape from his own house, 
 saying it smelt like a church. 
 
 "If you believe all the stories you hear!" he said. "The 
 bishop "^is nothing but an old weather-cock, turning one way 
 or the other according as Faujas or Fenil blows against 
 him ; to-day it is one of them, to-morrow it will be the other. 
 They have quarrelled and made it up again half a score times 
 at least. Before three days are over, you will see that it will 
 be Faujas who will be the pet again." 
 
 "I don't believe it," exclaimed Madame Paloque; "it is 
 serious this time. It seems that the Abbe Faujas has caused 
 his lordship great unpleasantness. He appears to haA^e formerly 
 preached some sermons which excited great displeasure at Rome. 
 I can't explain the matter quite .clearly, but I know that his 
 lordship has received reproachful letters from Piome, in which 
 he is recommended to be on his guard. It is said that the 
 Abbe Faujas is a political agent."
 
 THE CONQUEST OF TLASSANS. 177 
 
 "Who says so"?" asked Madame Rougon, blinking her 
 eyes as though to see the procession that was then passing 
 through the Rue de hi Banne more distinctly. 
 
 "I have heard it said, I really don't remember by whom," 
 the judge's wife replied careless!}'. 
 
 Then she retired, saying that she would be able to get a 
 better view from the side-window. Monsieur de Condamin 
 took the vacant place by Madame Rougon, and whispered in 
 the old lady's ear : 
 
 " I liave already seen her twice going to the Abbe Fenil's, 
 They have got some plot or other in hand, I am sure. The 
 Abbe Faujas must have trodden somehow or other upon this 
 viper of a woman, and she is trying to bite him. If she were 
 not so ugly I would do her the service of telling her that her 
 husband will never be president." 
 
 " Why ? I don't understand," the old lady murmured, with 
 a guileless expression. 
 
 Monsieur de Condamin looked at her curiously, and then he 
 V)eg;ui to smile. 
 
 The last two gendarmes in the procession had just dis- 
 appeared round the corner of the Cours Sauvaire, and the few 
 quests whom Madame Rougon had invited to come and witness 
 the blessing of the altar returned into the drawing-room, and 
 chatted about the bishop's charming manner and the new 
 banners of the different congregations, especially the one be- 
 longing to the young girls of the Home of the Virgin, whicli 
 had attracted much attention. The ladies were loud in their 
 praises, and the Abb6 Faujas's name was mentioned every 
 moment in the most eulogistic terms. 
 
 "He is clearly a saint ! " Madame Paloque sniggered to 
 Monsieur de Condamin, who had taken a seat near her. 
 
 Then, bending forward towards him, she added : 
 
 "I could not speak openly before Madame Rougon, you 
 know, but there is a great deal of talk about the Abbe Faujaa 
 and Madame Mouret. I daresay these unpleasant reports have 
 reached his lordship's ears." 
 
 " Madame Mouret is a charming woman, and extreuK'ly 
 Avinning notwithstanding her forty years," was all that Mon- 
 sieur de Condamin said in reply. 
 
 " Oh, yes ! she is very charming, very charming, indeed," 
 Madame Paloque munuureil, while her face turned quite green 
 with spleen. 
 
 M
 
 178 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 
 
 " Extremely charming," persisted the conservator of rivers 
 and forests. " She is at the age of genuine passions and great 
 liappiucss. You ladies are given to judging each other un- 
 favourably." 
 
 Then he left the drawing-room, chuckling over Madame 
 Paloque's suppressed rage. The town was indeed taking an 
 absorbing interest in the continual struggle that was going on 
 between the Abbe Faujas and the Abbe Fenil for influence over 
 the bishop. It was a ceaseless combat, like the rival struggles 
 of a couple of housekeepers for the affection of an old man. 
 The bishop smiled knowingly ; he had discovered a kind of 
 equilibrium between these two opposing wills, and he pitted 
 them one against the other, amused at seeing them overthrown 
 in turn, and always obtaining peace for himself by accepting 
 the service of the one who had temporarily gained the upper 
 hand. To the dreadful stories which wei'e told to him to the 
 detriment of his favourites, he paid but little attention, for he 
 knew that the two Abbes were quite capable of accusing each 
 other of murder. 
 
 " They are both getting worse, my child," the bishop said 
 in one of his moments of confidence to the Abbe Surin. "I 
 fancy that in the end Paris will carry the day and Rome will 
 get the worst of it ; but I am not quite sure about it, and I 
 shall leave them to wear each other out. When one has made 
 an end of the other, then things will be settled — By the way, 
 just read me the third Ode of Hoiuce ; I'm afraid I've trans- 
 lated one of the stanzas rather badly." 
 
 On the Tuesday after the public procession the weather was 
 lovely. The sound of laughter was heard in the gardens of the 
 Rastoils and the Sub-Prefect, and in both of them there were 
 numerous guests sitting under the trees. The Abbe Faujas 
 was reading his breviary in the IMourets' garden after his usual 
 custom, as he walked slowly backwards and forwards along the 
 tall hedges of box. For some days past he had kept the little 
 door that led to the alley bolted ; he was coquetting with his 
 neighbours and holding himself aloof that he might make them 
 more anxious to see him. It was possible that he had noticed 
 a slight coldness in their manner after his last misunderstand- 
 ing with the bishop and the abominable reports that his 
 enemies circulated against him. 
 
 About five o'clock, as the sun was sinking, the Abbe Surin 
 proposed a game of shuttle-cock to Monsieur Rastoil's daughters.
 
 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 179 
 
 He was very clever at it himself. Notwithstanding the approach 
 of their thirtieth year, Angeline and Aurelio were immensely 
 fond of games, and their mother would have made them still 
 wear short frocks if she had dared. When the servant brou2;ht 
 the battledores, the Abbe Surin, who was looking about for a 
 shady spot, for the garden was flooded with the last rays of tlie 
 sun, was struck with an idea of which the J'oung ladies cordially 
 approved. 
 
 "Shall we go and play in the Clievillottes alley 1" he said. 
 " We shall be shaded by the chestnut-trees, and we shall have 
 a longer stretch." 
 
 They went out of the garden and commenced a most delight- 
 ful game. The two girls began. Angeline was the first to 
 fail to keep the shuttle-cock up. The Abbe Surin, who took 
 her place, handled his battledore with a quite professional skill 
 and ease. He had tucked his cassock between his legs, and he 
 sprang backwards and forwards and to the side, skimming the 
 ground with his battledore and then sweeping it up into the 
 air to a surprising height, sending the shuttle-cock sometimes 
 as straight as a bullet and sometimes making it describe grace- 
 ful curves that were calculated with perfect science. Generally 
 speaking, he preferred playing with poor players, wlio, by 
 reason of their striking the shuttle-cock at I'andom, and, to use 
 the Abbe Sarin's own phrase, without any rhythm, brought 
 into exercise all the skilful agility of his own play. Mademoiselle 
 Aurelie played a fair game, and she uttered a little cry like a 
 swallow's every time she struck out with the battledore, and 
 she laughed distractedly when the shuttle-cock alighted on the 
 young Abbe's nose. She gathered up her skirts and waited for 
 its return, or retreated with short backward leaps amidst a 
 tremendous rustling of skirts when she wanted to give it a 
 smarter blow. At last the shuttle-cock fell into her hair, and 
 she almost toppled down upon her back. This caused them all 
 thi'ee great amusement. Angeline then took her sister's place. 
 Every time that the Abbe Faujas raised his eyes from his 
 breviary as he paced about the Mourets' garden, he saw the 
 white featliers of the shuttle-cock skimming above the wall like 
 a huge butterflv. 
 
 " Are you there, your reverence 1 "cried Angeline, going and 
 knocking at the little door. "Our shuttle-cock has fallen into 
 your garden." 
 
 The Abbe, picking up the shuttle-cock which had dropped 
 at his feet, made up bis mind to open the door.
 
 180 THE CONQUEST OF TLASSANS. 
 
 " Oh, thank you ! your reverence," said Aurelie, who had al- 
 ready taken the battledore. "It is only Angeline who would 
 ever make such a stroke. The other day when papa was watch- 
 ing us she sent it right against his ear, and with such a bang 
 tliat he was quite deaf till the next day." 
 
 There was more laughter at this ; and the Abbe Surin, who 
 was as rosy as a girl, delicately wiped his brow with gentle 
 touches of a handkerchief of fine texture. He pushed back his 
 fair hair behind his ears, and, with glistening eyes aiad flexible 
 figure, he used his battledore for a fan. In the excitement of 
 the game his bands had got slightly displaced. 
 
 " Your reverence," he said, as he put them straight again, 
 " shall come and be umpire." 
 
 The Abbe Faujas, holding his breviaiy under his arm and 
 smiling paternally, stood on the threshold of the little 
 door. Through the half-opened cart-entrance of the Sub-Pre- 
 fecture he could see Monsieur Pequeur des Saulaies sitting 
 in front of the cascade surrounded by his friends. He looked 
 straight in front of him, however, and counted the points of 
 the game, complimenting the Abbe Surin and consoling the 
 young ladies. 
 
 "I tell you what, Pequeur," Monsieur de Condamin went 
 and whispered ])leasantly into the sub-prefect's ear, " ycu make 
 a mistake in not inviting this little Abbe to your parties. He 
 is a great favourite with the ladies, and he looks as though he 
 could waltz to perfection." 
 
 But Monsieur Pequeiu* des Saulaies, who was talking to Mon- 
 sieur Delangre with much animation, did not appear to hear 
 what Monsieur de Condamin said, and he went on Avith his 
 conversation with the mayor. 
 
 "Really, my dear sir," he said, "I don't know where you see 
 all the merits that you profess to find in him. On the contrary, 
 indeed, the Abbe Faujas appears to me to be of very doubtful 
 character. There is considerable suspicion attached to his past 
 career, and strange things are said about him here. I really 
 don't see why I should go down on my knees to this priest, 
 especially as the clergy of Plassans are hostile to us. I should 
 gain no advantage by doing so." 
 
 Monsieur Delangre and Monsieur de Condamin, who had ex- 
 changed glances of intelligence, merely nodded their heads with- 
 out saying anything. 
 
 "None, whatever," continued the sub-prefect. "It is no
 
 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 181 
 
 use your pretending to look mysterious ; I may tell you that I 
 have myself written to Paris. I was a good deal bothered and 
 I wanted to be quite certain about this Faujas, whom you .seem 
 to consider as a sort of prince in disguise. Well ! do you know 
 ■what reply I got? They told me that they did not know him 
 and could tell me nothing whatever about him, and that I inu.st 
 carefully avoid mixing myself up with clerical matters. They 
 are grum])y enough up in Paris as it is since the election of 
 that ass of a Lagrifoul, and I have got to be prudent, you 
 understand." 
 
 The mayor exchanged another glance with the conservator 
 of rivers and forests. He even slightly shrugged his shoulders 
 before the scrupulously correct moustaches of ]\lonsieur Pequeur 
 des Saulaies. 
 
 " Just listen to me," he said to him after a moment's silence ; 
 " you would like to be prefect, wouldn't you 1 " 
 
 The sub-prefect smiled as he rocked himself in his chair. 
 
 " Well, then, go at once, and shake hands with the Abbe 
 Faujas, who is waiting for you down there, while he is watching 
 them play at shuttle-cock." 
 
 ^Monsieur Pequeur des Saulaies was silent with astonishment. 
 He seemed quite puzzled. Then he turned towards Monsieur 
 de Condamin, and asked with some show of uneasiness : 
 
 " Is that your advice also ? " 
 
 "Certainly; go and offer him your hand," replied the con- 
 servator of rivers and forests. 
 
 Then, with a slight touch of irony, he added : 
 
 " Go and consult my wife, in whom I know you have perfect 
 confidence." 
 
 Madame de Condamin had just come up to them. She was 
 wearing a lovely rose and pearl-grey dress. When they spoke 
 to her of the Abbe, she said playfully to the sub-prefect : 
 
 " It is very wrong of you to neglect your religious duties ; 
 one never sees you at church except when there is souie official 
 ceremony. Really, it distresses me very much, and I must try 
 to convert you. What sort of an opinion do you expect people 
 will have of the government you represent, when they see you 
 are not on tlie side of religion 1 — Leave us, gentlemen ; I am 
 going to confess Monsieur Pequeur." 
 
 She took a seat, smiling playfully. 
 
 " Octavie," said the sub-[)refect, when they were left alone 
 together, "don't make fun of me. You weren't a very
 
 182 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 
 
 pious person iu the Rue du Holder in Paris. It's all I can do 
 to keep from laughing when I see you worshipping in Saint- 
 Saturnin's." 
 
 "You are too flippant, my friend," she replied, "and your 
 flippancy will play you a bad turn one of these days. Seriously, 
 you quite distress me. I gave you credit for having more in- 
 telligence. Are you so blind that you cannot see that you are 
 tottering in your position 1 Let me tell you that it is only 
 from fear of alarming the Legitimists in Plassans that you 
 haven't been already overthrown. If they saw a new sub- 
 prefect arriving here, the Legitimists would take alarm, while, 
 so long as you remain where you are, they will continue quietly 
 asleep, feeling certain of victory at the next election. All this 
 is not very flattering to you, I am quite aware, and the more 
 so as I know for an absolute fact that the authorities are acting 
 without taking you into their counsels. Listen to me, my 
 friend ; I tell you that you are ruined if you don't divine certain 
 things." 
 
 He looked at her with unfeigned alarm. 
 
 " Has ' the great man ' been writing to you 1 " he asked, re- 
 ferring to a personage whom they thus designated between 
 themselves. 
 
 "No; he has broken entirely with me. I am not a fool, 
 and I saw, before he did so, the necessity of this separation. 
 And I have nothing at all to complain of. He has shown me 
 the greatest kindness. He found me a husband and gave mo 
 some excellent advice which has proved extremely useful to me. 
 But I have retained some friends iu Paris ; and I swear to you 
 that you have only just got time left to cling on to the branches 
 if you don't want to fall. Don't be a pagan any longer, but go 
 and offer your hand to the Abbe Faujas. You will understand 
 why later on, if you can't guess it to-day." 
 
 Monsieur Pequeur des Saulaies drooped his eyes and seemed 
 a little humiliated by the lesson he was getting. He was a 
 great fop, and he showed his white teeth, as he tried to re-assert 
 himself by murmuring tenderly : 
 
 " Ah ! if you had only been willing, Octavie, we might have 
 governed Plassans between us. I asked you to resume that 
 delightful life—" 
 
 " Pveally, you are a great idiot ! " she interrupted in tones of 
 vexation. '' You annoy me with your ' Octavie.' I am Madame 
 do Condamiu to everyone, my friend. Can you understand
 
 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 183 
 
 nothing? I have an income of thirty thousand francs; I am 
 queen of a whole Sub-Prefecture; I go everywhere; I am respected 
 everywhere, bowed to and liked. Vv hat in the world should I 
 want with you 1 You would only pull me down. I am a 
 respectable woman, my friend." 
 
 She rose from her seat and walked towards Doctor Porquiei", 
 who, according to his usual custom, had come to spend an 
 hour in the garden in talking to his fair patients, after a 
 round of visits. 
 
 "Oh, doctor!" she exclaimed with one of her pretty grimaces, 
 " I have got a headache. It pains me just here, under the 
 left eyebrow." 
 
 " That is the side of the heart, madame," said the doctor 
 gallantly. 
 
 Madame de Condamin smiled and did not push the consul- 
 tation any further. Madame Paloque bent towards her hus- 
 band, whom she brought with her evei'y time she came that 
 she might constantly recommend him to the sub-prefect's 
 influence, and whisj^ered in his ear : 
 
 " That's the only way he has of curing them." 
 
 When Monsieur Pequeur des Saulaies had rejoined Monsieur 
 de Condamin and jMonsieur Delangre he manoeuvred cleverly 
 to draw them towards the cart-entrance. When he had got 
 within a few yards of it, he stopped and appeared to be in- 
 terested in the game of shuttle-cock which was still going on 
 in the alley. The Abbe Surin, with his hair blown about by 
 the wind, the sleeves of his cassock rolled up and exposing his 
 wrists that were slender and white as a woman's, had just 
 stepped backwards, putting some twenty yards between himself 
 and Mademoiselle Aurelie. He saw that they Avere being- 
 watched, and he quite surpassed himself in his play. ]\lade- 
 moiselle Aui'elie was also playing very well, spurred on by 
 having such a master of the game for a partner. The shuttle- 
 cock described long gentle curves with such regularity that it 
 seemed to light of its own accord upon the battledores and it 
 flew from one to the other with a smooth even flight, Avithout 
 either of the players moving a single step from their places. 
 The Abbo Surin, leaning slightly backwards, displayed to ad- 
 vantage his well-shaped bust. 
 
 " Excellent ! excellent ! " ciicd the chiirmod sub-prefect. 
 " Ah ! your reverence; I must compliment you upon your 
 skill."
 
 184 THE CONQUEST OF TLASSANS. 
 
 Then, turning towards Madame de Condamin, Doctor Por- 
 quier and the Paloques, he exclahned : 
 
 " I've really never seen anything like it before. Your rever- 
 ence does not object to our admiring your play, I hope ? " 
 
 All the visitors to the Sub-Prefecture now formed themselves 
 into a group at the end of the blind-alley. The Abbe Faujas 
 had not moved from the position he had taken up, and he 
 acknowledged by a slight nod the salutations of Monsieur 
 Delangre and Monsieur de Condamin. He was still counting 
 the game. When Aurelie missed the shuttle-cock, he said 
 with a smile : 
 
 " That makes you three hundred and ten, since the distance 
 was altered ; your sister is only forty-seven." 
 
 While he appeared to follow the flight of the shuttle-cock 
 with an absorbing interest, he continued every now and then 
 to glance at the door of the Ptastoils' garden which still re- 
 mained wide open. Monsieur MafFre was as yet the only 
 person who had shown himself there. A voice called to him 
 from inside the garden. 
 
 "What is it that is amusing them so much out there?" 
 Monsieur Rastoil, Avho was talking to Monsieur de Bourdeu by 
 the rustic table, asked him. 
 
 "His lordship's secretary is playing at shuttle-cock," Monsieur 
 Maffre replied. " He is making some wonderful sti'okes and 
 they are all watching him. His reverence the vicar is there, 
 and seems quite delighted." 
 
 Monsieur de Bourdeu took a big pinch of snufl' as he 
 exclaimed : 
 
 " Ah ! his reverence the Abbe Faujas is there, is he 1" 
 
 He glanced at Monsieur Rastoil and they both seemed ill 
 at ease. 
 
 "I have heard," the president hazarded, "that the Abbe 
 has been restored to his lordship's favour." 
 
 " Yes, indeed ; this very morning," said Monsieur Maffre. 
 " There has been a complete reconciliation, and I have heard 
 the most touching details. His lordship shed tears. Ah, 
 there can be no doubt that the Abbe Fenil has been mistaken." 
 
 " I thought that you were the vicar-general's friend," ob- 
 served Monsieur de Bourdeu. 
 
 " So I am, but I am also his reverence the vicar's friend," 
 the magistrate replied with animation, " Thank goodness ! he 
 is a man of sufficient piety to be able to despise all the calumnies
 
 THE CON^QITEST OF PLASSANS. 185 
 
 that may be uttered against him. They haven't even stuck at 
 attacking his morality ! It is disgraceful ! " 
 
 The former prefect again glanced at the president with a 
 singular expression. 
 
 "And they've tried to compromise him in political matters," 
 Monsieur Mafire continued. " They said that he had come 
 here to overturn everything, to bestow places right and left 
 and to bring about the triumph of the Paris clique. If he had 
 been the chief of a gang of brigands they couldn't have said 
 worse things about him than they have done. A pack of lies, 
 all of them ! " 
 
 Monsieur de Boi;rdeu was drawing a face on the gravel of 
 the walk with the end of his stick. 
 
 " Yes," he said carelessly, " I have heard these things men- 
 tioned. It is very unlikely that a minister of religion would 
 allow himself to play such a part ; and, to the honour of 
 Plassans, I think it may be said that he would have failed 
 completely. There is no one here who could be bought." 
 
 " Oh ! it's all stuff and nonsense, that ! " cried the president, 
 shrugging his shoulders. "A town can't be turned inside out 
 like an old coat. Paris may send us as many spies and agents 
 as she likes, but Plassans will always keep legitimist. Look 
 at that little Pequeur now ! We've only made a single mouth- 
 ful of him ! Folks must be very stupid to believe in mysteri- 
 ous personages running about the provinces hawking places 
 and appointments. I should be very curious to see one of 
 tliese gentlemen." 
 
 He seemed to be getting a little angry, and Monsieur Maffrc, 
 with some show of uneasiness, appeared to think it necessary to 
 defend himself. 
 
 " Pardon me," he exclaimed. " I have never asserted that 
 his reverence the Abbe Faujas was a Bonapartist agent; on the 
 contrary, I have always considered the accusation a most 
 absurd one." 
 
 " Oh ! it's not a question of the Abbe Faujas. My remarks 
 are quite general. People don't sell themselves in that way ! 
 The Abbe Faujas is quite above all suspicion." 
 
 Then there was an interval of silence. Monsieur de Bourdeu 
 finished the face he was drawing on the gravel by adding a 
 long pointed beard to it. 
 
 " The Abb6 Faujas has no political views," at last he said in 
 his dry voice.
 
 186 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 
 
 " Evidently," Monsiem* Rastoil replied ; " we have found 
 fault with him for his indiftcrence, but now I approve of it. 
 With all this gossip in the air, it would have had a prejudicial 
 effect upon religion. You know as well as I do, Boiirdeu, that 
 he can't be accused of the slightest suspicious step. He has 
 never been seen at the Sub-Prefectui-e, has he 1 He has kept 
 himself with great propriety in his fitting place. If he were a 
 Bonapartist, he wouldn't be likely to conceal the fact, would 
 he ] " 
 
 " Certainly not." 
 
 " Then he leads a most exemplary life. My wife and my 
 son have told me things about him which have affected me 
 very much." 
 
 The merriment in the alley was now louder than ever. The 
 voice of the Abbe Faujas could be heard complimenting Made- 
 moiselle Aurelie on a wonderful stroke of her battledore. 
 Monsieur Eastoil, who had checked himself for a moment, now 
 continued with a smile : 
 
 " Just listen to them ! What do they find to amuse them 
 so much 1 It makes one quite long to be young again ! " 
 
 Then, in moi-e serious tones, he added : 
 
 " Yes, my wife and my son have made me feel a strong 
 liking for the Abbe Faujas ; and we are very sorry that his 
 discreet reserve keeps him from joining our circle." 
 
 As Monsieur Bourdeu nodded his head approvingly, shouts 
 of applause were heard in the alley. There was a perfect 
 uproar of clapping of hands and ringing laughter and shouts, 
 as though some troop of school-boys had just rushed out to 
 play. Monsieur Rastoil got up from his rustic chair. 
 
 " Good gracious ! " he said witli a smile ; "let us go and see 
 what they are doing. My legs are beginning to feel a little 
 cramped." 
 
 The other two followed him, and they all three went and 
 stood by the little door. It was the first time that the presi- 
 dent and the ex-prefect had ventured so far. When they saw 
 the group formed by the guests of the sub-prefect at the end 
 of tlie alley, their faces assumed a serious expression. Monsieur 
 Pequeur des Saulaies drew himself up and put on an official 
 attitude. Madame de Condamin was flitting up and down tlie 
 alley with constant laughs and smiles and filling it with the 
 rustle of her rose-coloured dress. The two sets of guests kept 
 glancing at each other, neither party being willing to rctiie,
 
 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSAXS. 187 
 
 while the Abbe Faujas still maintained his position between 
 them at the Mourets' door, and was quietly enjoying himself 
 without seeming to be in the least degree conscious of the deli- 
 cacy of the situation. 
 
 All the spectators were holding their breath, for the Abbe 
 Surin, seeing that their number had increased, was desirous of 
 extorting their applause by a last exhibition of skill. He 
 brought all his science into play, made difficulties for himself 
 on purpose to overcome them, turned himself round and struck 
 at the shuttle-cock Avithout looking where it was coming, but 
 seeming able to divine its position, and sending it back to 
 Mademoiselle Aurelie over liis head with a mathematical pre- 
 cision. He was very mi;ch flushed and was perspiring freely. 
 He had thrown his hat oft" and his bands had now got com- 
 pletely twisted from their place and were hanging over his 
 right shoulder. But he was the victor, and he looked as he 
 always did, amiable and charming. The two groups of guests 
 broke out into involuntaiy applause, and Madame de Condamin 
 had to repress the cheers, which had burst out prematnrely 
 and inopportunely, by shaking her lace handkerchief. Then 
 the young Abbe, introducing still further refinements into his 
 play, began to skip about first to his right and then to his left, 
 receiving the shuttle-cock every time in a fresh position. This 
 was the grand final flourish. He accelerated the rapidity of 
 his play, and at last, as he was jumping aside, his foot slipped 
 and he nearly fell upon the bosom of Madame de Condamin, 
 who had stretched out her arms with a little cry. The spec- 
 tators, thinking he was hurt, rushed up, but the Abbe, pressing 
 the ground with his hands and knees, suddenly sprang up 
 again by a strong eftbrt and sent the shuttle-cock, which had 
 not yet fallen, spinning back to Mademoiselle Aurelie, and 
 then he gave his battledore a triumphant flourish. 
 
 " Bravo ! bravo ! " cried Monsieur Bequeur des Saidaies, 
 stepping up to him, 
 
 "Bravo ! it was a magnificent stroke ! " exclaimed jMonsieur 
 Rastoil, who also came \ip. 
 
 The game was interrupted, for the two sets of guests had 
 invaded the alley, and they were mixing with each other, and 
 crowding round the Abbe Surin, who was leaning, quite out of 
 breath, against the wall by the Abbe Faujas's side. Everybody 
 was talking at once, 
 
 " I was afraid that he had hurt himself badly," Doctor
 
 183 THE CONQUEST OP PLASSAKS. 
 
 Porquier said to Monsieur MafFre, in a voice that was full of 
 emotion. 
 
 "Yes, these games generally have a bad ending," Monsieur 
 de Bourdeu said, addressing himself to Monsieur Delangre and 
 the Paloques, while he received a shake of the hand from 
 Monsieur de Condamin, whom he alwavs tried to avoid in the 
 streets, so as not to have to bow to him. 
 
 Madame de Condamin went from the sub-prefect to the 
 president and brought them together, and then exclaimed : 
 
 " Really, I am worse for it than he is ! I thought that we 
 were going to fall together. There is a great stone there ; did 
 you notice it 1 " 
 
 " Yes, I see it there," said Monsieur Rastoil ; " it must have 
 caught against his heel." 
 
 " Was it this round stone, do you think 1" asked Monsieur 
 I'equeur des Saulaies, picking up a pebble. 
 
 They had never spoken to each other before, except on the 
 occasions of official ceremonies. They both began to examine 
 the stone, and they passed it from one to the other, remarking 
 that it was very sharp, and must have cut the Abbe's shoe. 
 ]\Iadame de Condamin stood smiling between them, and assured 
 them that she was beginning to feel better. 
 
 " His reverence the Abbe is feeling ill ! " cried Monsieur 
 Rastoil's daughters. 
 
 The Abbe Surin had, indeed, turned very pale at hearing of 
 the danger he had run. He was reeling with faintness, when 
 the Abbe Faujas, who had held himself aloof, took him in his 
 powerful arms, and carried him off into the Mourets' garden, 
 where he seated him upon a chair. The two sets of guests 
 swarmed under the arbour, where the young Abbe now 
 completely fainted away. 
 
 "Get some water and some vinegar, Rose ! " cried the Abbe 
 Faujas, running up towards the steps. 
 
 Mouret, who was in the dining-room, came to the window, 
 but, seeing all these people in the garden, he recoiled as though 
 he were struck with fear, and he kept himself out of sight. 
 Rose came up with a whole collection of drugs, muttering, as 
 she hastened along : 
 
 " If only madame were here ! But she has gone to the 
 Seminary to see the little one. I am all alone, and I can't do 
 impossibilities, can 1 1 The master won't stir an inch ; a body 
 might die for all he cared. There he is in the dining-room,
 
 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 1S9 
 
 hiding himself ! He would let you die, before he would get 
 you even a glass of water." 
 
 By the time she had got through this grumble, she had 
 reached the Abbe Surin who was lying in a swoon. " Oh ! 
 the cherub ! " she exclaimed, overcome with her womanly pity. 
 The Abbe Surin, with his closed eyes and his pale brow 
 wreathed with his long, fair hair, looked like one of the sweet- 
 faced martyrs that one sees breathing out his life in some sacred 
 picture. The elder of the Rastoil girls was supporting his 
 head, which was lying languidly back, allowing his delicate, 
 white neck to be seen. They were all in great excitement 
 round him. Madame de Condamin gently dabbed his brow 
 with a rag soaked in vinegar and water, and the two sets of 
 guests stood anxiously by her. At last the young Abbe opened 
 his eyes, but he closed them again immediately. He had two 
 more swoons before he recovered. 
 
 "You have given me a terrible fright!" Doctor Porquier, 
 who had kept his hand fast in his own, said to him at last. 
 
 The Abbe, still sitting in the chair, stammered out confused 
 thanks, and assured them all that it was a mere nothing. Then 
 he saw that his cassock had been unbuttoned,, and that his 
 neck was bare ; and he smiled as he buttoned it and re-adjusted 
 his bands. To prove that he was all right again, when the 
 company advised him to keep very quiet, he set off back to the 
 alley with the Rastoil girls to finish the game. 
 
 " You have a very nice place here," said Monsieur Rastoil to 
 the Abbe Faujas, with whom he had kept all this time. 
 
 " There is a delightful air on this slope," added Monsieur 
 Pequeur des Saulaies, in his charming manner. 
 
 The two sets of guests were looking with curiosity at the 
 Mourets' house. 
 
 " Perhaps the ladies and gentlemen," exclaimed Rose, " would 
 like to stay in the garden a little time ; I will go and get some 
 chairs." 
 
 She made three journeys in quest of them in spite of the 
 protestations of the company. Then, after having glanced at 
 each other for a moment, the two sets of guests felt constrained 
 by courtesy to seat themselves. The sub-prefect sat on the 
 Abb6 Faujas's right, while the president took a chair at his 
 left, and a friendly conversation was at once commenced. 
 
 " You are a very quiet neighbour, your reverence," said 
 Monsieur Pequeur des Saulaies very graciously, "you can't
 
 190 THE CONQUEST OF TLASSANS. 
 
 imagine the pleasui-e it gives me to see you every day at the 
 same hour in this little paradise. It seems to give me a feeling 
 of restf ulness, after all the noise and worry I have." 
 
 "A pleasant neighbour is a very rare thing," observed Mon- 
 sieur Rastoil. 
 
 "Indeed he is," said Monsieur de Bourdeu.* "His reverence 
 saems to have filled this spot with all the peaceful tranquillity 
 of a cloister." 
 
 While the Abbe was smiling and acknowledging these com- 
 plimentary remarks, Monsieur de Condamin, who had not yet 
 seated himself, stooped down and whispered in Monsieur 
 Delangre's ear : 
 
 " There's Rastoil there, hoping to get that lout of a son of 
 his made assistant ! " 
 
 Monsieur Delangre cast an angry glance at him, trembling 
 at the thought that this incorrigible chatterer might spoil 
 everything, but it did not prevent the conservator of rivers 
 and forests from adding : 
 
 " And Bourdeu is flattering himself that he has already won 
 back his prefecture." 
 
 Madame de^Condamin liad just caused a great sensation by 
 saying, in a meaning way : 
 
 " What I like about this garden is a sort of tender charm it 
 seems to possess, which gives it a feeling of being cut oflp from 
 all the cares and wretchedness of the world. It is a spot where 
 Cain and Abel might reconcile themselves to each other." 
 
 She gave a strong accentuation to this last sentence, wliich 
 she accompanied by two glances, one to the right and the other 
 to the left, towards the neighbouring gardens. Monsieur 
 MafFre and Doctor Porquier nodded their heads approvingly ; 
 while the Paloques looked inquisitively at each other, feeling 
 uneasy and not knowing what to do, and fearing to compromise 
 themselves with one side or the other if they opened their 
 mouths. 
 
 At the end of a quarter of an hour ^lonsieur Rastoil rose from 
 his seat. 
 
 " My wife will be wondering where we have got to," he said. 
 
 All the company rose, feeling somewdiat embarrassed as to 
 the manner of their leave-taking. The Abbe Faujas spread out 
 his hands and said, with the pleasantest possible smile : 
 
 " My paradise is always open to you." 
 
 Then the president promised to come and see tlie vicar every
 
 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 101 
 
 now and then, and the sub-prefect, with more effusiveness, 
 said he would do the same. The two sets of guests 
 hngered for another five minutes exchanging compHments, 
 ^\]u\e, out in the alley, the laughter of the liastoil girls and the 
 Abbe Surin was heard again. The game was going on with all 
 its previous fervour, and the shuttle-cock could be seen over 
 the wall passing backwards and forwards with regular flight.
 
 192 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 One Friday, as Madame Paloque was entering Saint-Satnrnin's, 
 she was greatly surprised to see Marthe kneeling in front of 
 Saint Michael's chapel. The Abbe Faujas was hearing con- 
 fessions. 
 
 "Ah !" she said to herself, "has she succeeded in touching 
 the Abbe's heart 1 I must wait here a little and watch. It 
 would be very fine if Madame de Condamin were to come." 
 
 She took a chair, a little behind, and half kneeling down she 
 covered her face with her hands as though she were absorbed 
 in earnest prayer, but she spread her fingers apart and glanced 
 through them. The church was very gloomy. Marthe, with 
 her head bent down on her prayer-book, looked as though she 
 were asleep, and her figure stood out blackly against a white 
 pillar. It was only her shoulders, heaving up and down with 
 her deep-drawn sighs, that seemed to be alive. She was so 
 profoundly overcome with emotion, that she was leaving her 
 turn to be taken by some other of the Abbe Faujas's penitents. 
 The Abbe waited on for a few moments and then, seeming to 
 grow a little impatient, he began to tap gently on the wood of 
 the confessional-box. Then one of the women who were there, 
 seeing that Marthe showed no sign of moving, decided to take 
 her place. The chapel was growing empty, and Marthe still 
 remained motionless and shaken with sighs. 
 
 "She seems in a tremendous state," Madame Paloque said 
 to herself. " It is really quite indecent to make such an exhibi- 
 tion of one's self in church. Ah ! here comes Madame de 
 Condamin !" 
 
 Madame de Condamin was just entering the church. She 
 stopped for a moment before the holy-water basin, removed her 
 glove, and crossed herself with a pretty gesture. Her silk dress 
 made a murmuring sound as she passed along through the narrow 
 space between the chairs. As she knelt down, she filled the 
 lofty vault with the rustling of her skirts. She wore her usual
 
 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 193 
 
 affable expression, and her face smiled through the gloom of 
 the church. Soon she and Martha were the only two left. 
 The priest seemed to be getting vexed, and he tapped more 
 loudly upon the confessional-box. 
 
 " It is your turn, madame ; I am the last,'' Madame de Con- 
 damiu whispered politely, bending towards Marthe, whom she 
 had not recognised. 
 
 Marthe raised her face, a face that was pinched and pale from 
 her extreme emotion, and did not appear to understand. She 
 seemed as though she were awaiving from some ecstatic ti'ance, 
 and her ej'elids trembled and blinked. 
 
 " Come, ladies, come ! " exclaimed the Abbe, who liad half- 
 opened the door of the confessional-box. 
 
 Madame de Condamiu rose smilingly to obey the priest's 
 summons ; but Marthe, recognising her, hastened hurriedly 
 into the chapel, and then she again fell upon her knees some 
 three Awards away from the confessional-box 
 
 Madame Paloque was feeling much amused. She was 
 hoping that the two ladies would seize each other by the hair. 
 Marthe could hear all that was said, for Madame de Condamin 
 had a clear flute-like voice, and she dallied lengthily over her 
 sins, and she quite animated the confessional with her pretty 
 gossiping manner. Once she even laughed a little muffled 
 laugh, at the sound of which Marthe raised her pain-racked 
 face. Soon afterwards she finished her confession, and began 
 to retire, but she quickly returned again, and commenced talk- 
 ing once more, but without kneeling down, and merely bending 
 her head. 
 
 " That she-devil is making sport of Madame Moiiret and the 
 Abbe," the judge's wife thought to herself. " It's all put on^ is 
 this." 
 
 At last Madame de Condamin retired. Marthe followed her 
 with her eyes, and seemed to be waiting till she had dis- 
 appeared. Then she went and leaned against the confessional- 
 box, and let her knees fall heavily down. Ma,damc Paloque 
 had slipped a little nearer and craned oiit her head, but she 
 could see nothing but the penitent's dark dress that was spread 
 out around her. For nearly half an hour there was not the 
 slightest movement. Now and then she thought she could 
 detect the sound of smothered sobs in the throbbing silence, 
 which was broken at times by a dry creak from the confcssional- 
 box. She was beginning to feel a little weary of her watching; 
 
 li
 
 194 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 
 
 there v/as notliing to be done now except to stare at Martlie as 
 she left the chapel. 
 
 The Abbe Faujas was the first to leave, closing the door 
 of the confessional-box with an appearance of annoyance. 
 Madame Mouret lingered on for a long time, bent down and 
 motionless. When at last she went away, her face covered 
 with her veil, she seemed qnite broken down, and she forgot to 
 cross herself. 
 
 *' There has been a row ; the Abbe hasn't made himself 
 pleasant," Madame Paloque said to herself. She followed 
 Marthe as far as the Place de rArcheveche, where she stopped 
 and seemed to hesitate for a moment ; then, having glanced 
 cautiously around to be sure that no one was watching her, 
 she stealthily slipped into the house where the Ab1ie Fenil 
 lived, at one of the corners of the Place. 
 
 Marthe now almost lived at Saint-Saturnin's. She carried 
 out her religious duties with great fervour. Even the Abbe 
 Faujas had often to remonstrate with her about her excessive 
 zeal. He allowed her to communicate only once a month, 
 fixed the times when she should devote herself to pious exercises, 
 and insisted upon her not entirely shutting herself up in re- 
 ligious practices. She had for along time been requesting him 
 to let her be present every morning at a low mass before he 
 would accede to her desires. One day when she told him that 
 she had lain for a whole hour on the cold floor of her room to 
 punish herself for some fault she had committed, he was very 
 angry with her, and told her that it was her confessor alone 
 who had the right to inflict penance. He treated her very 
 sternly, and threatened to send her back to the Abbe Bourrette 
 if she did not absolutely follow his directions. 
 
 " I was wrong to take you at all," he often said ; " I do not 
 like disobedient souls." 
 
 She felt a pleasure in his angry sternness. The iron hand 
 which bent her, the hand which held her back upon the edge 
 of that continual adoration in whose depths she would have 
 liked to overwhelm herself, thrilled her with an ever-springing 
 desire. She was still in the condition of a neophyte, and had 
 made but little advance in her journey of love, being constantly 
 sharply pulled up, while she vaguely divined the potentiality 
 of greater happiness, and her slow advance towards joys of 
 wdiich she was yet ignorant filled her with glad emotion. That 
 sense of deep restfulness which she had first experienced in the
 
 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 195 
 
 church, that forgetfulness of herself and the outside world, was 
 now changed into a positive happiness and actual joy. It was 
 the happiness for which slie had been vaguely longing since her 
 girlhood and which she was now^, at forty years of age, at last 
 finding ; a happiness which sufficed her, which compensated 
 her for all the past-away years of her youth, and which made 
 her life a self-wrapt life, absorbed in all the new sensations that 
 she was experiencing within her like sweet caresses. 
 
 " Be kind to me," she murmured to the Abbe Faujas, •' be 
 kind to me, for I stand in great need of kindness." 
 
 Aud when he did show her kindness, she could have gone 
 down upon her knees and thanked him. At these times he un- 
 bent and spoke to her in a father-like way, and pointed out to 
 her that her imagination was too excited and feverish. God, 
 he told her, did not like to be worshipped in that Avay, in wild 
 impulses. She smiled, looking quite pretty and young again 
 with her blushing face. She promised to be more conformable 
 in the future. Sometimes she underwent paroxysms of devo- 
 tion, which crushed her down upon the flag-stones in some dark 
 comer, where she no longer knelt, but almost grovelled upon 
 the ground, stammering out biu-ning words, and when even 
 her power of speech died away and she continued her prayers 
 by an impulse of her whole being, in an appeal to that divine 
 kiss which seemed ever hovering about her brow without 
 pressing it. 
 
 At home Marthe was becoming querulous. Up till noAV she 
 had been quite indifferent and listless, quite happy so long as 
 her husband left her at peace ; but now that he had begun to 
 spend his whole days in the house, having lost his old spirit 
 of teasing banter, and having grown mopish and melancholy, 
 she grew impatient witli him. 
 
 " He is always hanging about us," she said to the cook one 
 
 day. 
 
 " Oh, he does it out of pure maliciousness," Rose replied. 
 " He isn't a good man at heart. I haven't found that out to- 
 day for the first time. He's only putting on this woe-bcgone 
 look, he who is so fond of hearing his tongue wag, to try and 
 make us pity him. He's really bui-sting with anger, but he 
 won't show it, because he thinks that if he looks miserable, 
 we shall be sorry for him and do just what he wants. You 
 are quite right, madame, not to let yoiu'self be stopped by all 
 these grimaces and pretences."
 
 196 THE CONQUEST OF TLASSANS. 
 
 Mouret had a hold upon the women in his purse. He did 
 not care to wrangle and argue with them for fear of making 
 his life still less comfortable than it already was ; but, though 
 he no longer grumbled and meddled and interfered, he showed 
 his displeasure by refusing a single extra hundred-sou piece 
 to either Marthe or Rose. He gave the latter a hundred francs 
 a month for the purchase of provisions ; wine, oil, and pre- 
 serves were in the house. The cook was obliged to get on 
 with that sum to the end of the montli, even if she had to pay 
 something out of her own pocket. As for Marthe, she had 
 absolutely nothing ; her husband never gave her even a single 
 sou, and she was compelled to appeal to Rose, and to get her to 
 try to save ten francs out of the monthly allowance. Often 
 she found herself without a pair of boots to put on, and she 
 was obliged to borrow from her mother the money to buy a 
 dress or a hat. 
 
 " But Mouret must surely be going mad ! " Madame Rougon 
 cried. " You can't go naked ! I will speak to him about it." 
 
 " I beg you not to do anything of the kind, mother," Marthe 
 said. " He detests you, and he would treat me even worse 
 than he does already, if he knew that I talked of these matters 
 to you." 
 
 She began to cry as she added : 
 
 " I have shielded him for a long time, but I really can't 
 keep silent any longer. You remember that once he was 
 most unwilling for me even to set my foot in the street ; he 
 kept me shut up, and treated me like a mere chattel. Now 
 he is treating me so unkindly becavise he sees that I have 
 escaped from him, and that I won't siibmit any longer to be 
 nothing but a servant. He is a man utteidy without religion, 
 selfish and bad-hearted." 
 
 " He doesn't strike you, does he 1 " 
 
 " No ; but it will come to that. At present, he contents 
 himself with refusing me everything. I have not bought any 
 chemises for the last five years, and yesterday I showed him 
 those I have. They are quite worn out, and so patched and 
 mended that I am quite ashamed of wearing them. He 
 looked at them and examined them and said that they would 
 do perfectly well till next year. I haven't a single centime 
 about me. The other day I had to borrow two sous from 
 Rose to buy some thread to sew up my gloves, which were 
 splitting all over."
 
 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 197 
 
 She told her mother a score other similar details of the 
 straits to whicli she was reduced, how she had to make laces 
 for her boots from blackened string, how she had to wash her 
 ribbons in tea to make her hat look a little fresher, and how 
 she had to smear the thread-bare folds of her only silk dress 
 with iuk to conceal the signs of wear. Madame Rougon ex- 
 pressed great pity for her, and advised her to rebel. Mouret 
 was a monster, she said. Rose asserted that he carried his 
 avarice so far as to count the pears in the store-room and the 
 lumps of sugar in the cupboard, while he kept a close eye 
 upon the preserves, and ate up himself all the remnants of the 
 loaves. 
 
 It was a source of especial distress to Marthe that she was 
 not able to contribute to the offertories at Saint-Saturnin's. 
 She used to conceal ten-son pieces in scraps of paper and 
 keep them carefully for the high mass on Sundays. When 
 the lady patronesses of the Home of the Virgin made some 
 offering to the cathedral, such as a pyx, or a silver cross, or a 
 banner, she felt quite ashamed and kept out of the way, aff'ect- 
 ing ignorance of their intentions. The ladies felt much pity 
 for her. She would have robbed her husband if she could 
 have found the key of his desk, so keenly was she tortured 
 by being able to do nothing for the honour of this church 
 which she so passionately loved. She felt all the jealousy of 
 a deceived woman, when the Abbe Faujas used a chalice which 
 had been presented by Madame de Condamin ; while on the 
 days when he said mass in front of the altar-frontal which she 
 herself had embroidered, she was filled with a fervent joy, and 
 said her prayers with ecstatic thrills, as though some part of 
 herself lay beneath the priest's extended liands. She would 
 have liked to have a whole chapel of her own ; and she had 
 dreams of expending a fortune upon one, and of sluitting her- 
 self up in it and receiving the Deity all to herself at her own 
 altar. 
 
 Rose, who received all her confidences, had recourse to all 
 sorts of plans to obtain money for her. This year she secretly 
 gathered the finest fruit in the garden and sold it, and she 
 disposed of a lot of old furniture that was stowed away in an 
 attic, and managed her sales so well that she succeeded in 
 getting togetlicr a sum of three hundred francs, which she 
 handed over to Martlie with gi'cat triumph. The latter kissed 
 the old cook.
 
 I'JS THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 
 
 a I 
 
 Oh ! how good you are ! " she said to her, affectionately. 
 "Are you quite sure that he knows nothing about what you 
 have done? I saw the other day, in the Rue des Orfevres, 
 two little cruets of chased silver, such dear little things ; they 
 are marked two hundred francs. Now, you'll do me a little 
 favour, won't you ] I don't want to go and buy them myself, 
 because some one would be sure to see me going into the shop. 
 Tell your sister to go and get them. She can bring them here 
 after dark, and can give them to you through the kitchen- 
 window," 
 
 This purchase of the cruets seemed like a clandestine 
 intrigue to Marthe, and she felt thrills of the sweetest pleasure 
 from it. For three days she kept the cruets at the bottom of 
 a chest, hidden away behind layers of linen ; and when she 
 gave them to the Abbe Faujas in the sacristy of Saint- 
 Saturnin's, she trembled and could scarcely speak. The Abbe 
 scolded her in a kindly fashion. He was not fond of presents, 
 and he spoke of money with the disdain of a strong-minded 
 man who cares only for power and authority. During their 
 two first years of poverty, even at times when he and his 
 mother had had no food beyond bread and water, he had never 
 thought of borrowing a ten-franc piece from the Mourets. 
 
 Marthe found a safe hiding-place for the hundred francs 
 that she still had left. She, too, was becoming a little miserly ; 
 and she schemed how she should lay this money out, making 
 some fresh plan every morning. While she was still in a state 
 of doubt and hesitation, Rose told her that Madame Trouche 
 wanted to see her privately. Olympe, who used to spend 
 hours in the kitchen, had become Rose's intimate friend, and 
 she often borrowed forty sous of her, to save herself from going- 
 upstairs at times when she said she had forgotten to bring her 
 purse with her. 
 
 " Go upstairs and see her there," said the cook ; " you will 
 be better able to talk there. They are good sort of people, 
 and they are very fond of his reverence. They have had a lot 
 of trouble. Madame Olympe has quite made my heart ache 
 with all the things she has told me." 
 
 When Marthe went upstairs, she found Olympe in tears. 
 They were too soft hearted, she said, and their kindness was 
 always being abused ; then she entered upon an explanation of 
 their liistory at Besan^on, where the rascality of a partner had 
 saddled them with a heavy load of debt. Now, to make
 
 THE CONQUEST OF TLASSANS. 199 
 
 matters -svorse, their creditors were getting very impatient, 
 and she Lad just received an insulting letter in which the 
 sender threatened to write to the mayor and the bishop of 
 Plassans. 
 
 "I don't mind what happens to me," she sobbed, "but I 
 would give my head to save my brother from being compromised. 
 He has already done too much for us, and I don't want to speak 
 to him on the matter, for he is not rich, and he would only dis- 
 tress himself to no purpose. Good heavens ! what can I do to 
 keep that man from writing 1 My brother would die of shamo 
 if such a letter were sent to the mayor and the bishop. Yes, 
 I know him well; he would die of shame ! " 
 
 The tears rushed to Marthe's eyes. She was quite pale and 
 she pressed Olympe's hands. Then, without the latter having 
 preferred any request, she offered her her hundred francs. 
 
 " It is very little, I know ; but perhaps it might be sufficient 
 to avert the danger," she said with an expressiun of great 
 anxiety. 
 
 " A hundred francs, a hundred francs ! " exclaimed Olympe ; 
 "Oh, no ! he would never be satisfied with a hundred francs." 
 
 Marthe lost all hope. She swore that she had not a centime 
 more. She so far forgot herself as to speak of the cruets. If 
 she had not bought them she would liave been able to give 
 three-hundred francs. Madame Trouche's eyes sparkled. 
 
 "Three hundred francs, that is just what he demands," she 
 said. " Ah ! you would have rendered a much greater service 
 to my brother by not giving him this present, which, besides, 
 will have to remain in the church. Look at all the beautiful 
 things the ladies at Besangon presented to him ! And he is not 
 a bit the better for them to-day ! Don't give him atiything more ; 
 it is really nothing but robbery ! Consult me about what to 
 do ; there is so much hidden misery — No ! a hundred francs 
 will certainly not be sufficient ! " 
 
 At the end of half an hour, however, spent in lamentation, 
 she accepted the hundred francs when she saw that Marthe had 
 really nothing more. 
 
 "1 will send them off to pacify the man for a little," she said, 
 " but lie won't leave us at peace long. But whatever you do, I 
 beg of you not to mention anything about it to my brother. 
 It would, nearly kill him. And I think it would be better, too, 
 if my husband knew notliing of what has passed between us ; 
 he is so proud that he would be sure to be doing something
 
 200 THE CJNQUEST OF PLASSANS. 
 
 rash to be able to acquit himself of our obligation to you. We 
 women can understand each other, you know." 
 
 Tiiis loan was a source of much pleasure to Marthe, and 
 henceforth she had a fresh care, to ward oif from the Abbe 
 Faujas the danger that was threatening him without his being 
 aware of it. She frequently went upstairs to the Trouches' 
 rooms and stayed there for hours, discussing with Olympe the 
 best means of discharging the debts. The latter had told her 
 that many of the promises to pay had been endorsed by the 
 priest and that there would be a terrible scandal if they should 
 ever be sent to any bailiff in Plassans to be enforced. The sum 
 total of their liabilities was so great, she said, that for a long 
 time she refused to disclose it, only weeping the more bitterly 
 when Marthe pressed her. One day, however, she mentioned 
 the sum of twenty thousand francs. Marthe was quite petri- 
 fied upon hearing this. She would never be able to procure 
 anything like twenty thousand francs, and she thought that 
 she would certainly have to wait for Mouret's death before she 
 could hope to have any such sum at her disposition, 
 
 " I say twenty thousand francs in all," Olympe added hastily, 
 disquieted by Marthe's grave appearance ; " but we shovild be 
 quite satisfied to be able to pay by small instalments spread 
 over half a score years. The creditors would wait for any 
 length of time, if they were only quite sure of getting their in- 
 stalments regularly. It is a great pity that we can't find any- 
 one who has sufficient confidence in us to make the small 
 necessary advance." 
 
 This matter became an habitual topic of conversation. 
 Olympe also frequently spoke of the Abbe Faujas, whom she 
 appeared almost to worship. She told Marthe all kinds of 
 private little details about the priest : such as, for instance, that 
 he could not bear anything that tickled him, and that he could 
 not go to sleep on his left side, and that he had a strawberry- 
 mark on his right shoulder, which turned red in Moy like the 
 natural fruit. Marthe smiled and never tired of hearing about 
 these little matters ; and she questioned the young woman 
 about her childhood and that of her brother. When the subject 
 of the money cropped up she seemed quite painfully overcome 
 by her inability to do anything, and she even permitted herself 
 to complain bitterly of Mouret, to whom Olympe, emboldened 
 by Marthe's words, now always referred in her presence as the 
 " old miser," Sometimes when Trouche returned from his office
 
 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSAXS. 201 
 
 he found the two women still talkhig together, but at his ap- 
 pearance they checked themselves and changed the subject. 
 Trouche conducted himself in the most satisfactory way, and 
 the lady patronesses of the Home of the Virgin were highly 
 pleased with him. He was never seen in any of the cafes in 
 the town. 
 
 In order to be able to render some assistance to Olympe, who 
 sometimes talked about throwing herself out of the whidow, 
 Marthe made Rose take all the useless old odds and ends that 
 were lying about the house to a second-hand dealer in the 
 market. At first the two women were a little timid about the 
 matter, and they only disposed of broken-down chairs and tables 
 when Mouret was out of the way, but afterwards they began 
 to lay hands upon moi'e important articles, and they sold pieces 
 of china and ornaments, and anything else that they could re- 
 move without its absence appearing too conspicuous. They 
 were slipping down a fatal incline, and they would have ended 
 by carting off all the furniture in the house and leaving nothing 
 but the bare walls if Mouret had not one day charged Rose 
 with thieving and threatened to send for the police. 
 
 " What, sir ! A thief ! I ! " she cried. " Just because you 
 happened to see me selling one of madame's rings. Be careful 
 of what you are saying ! The ring was mine ; madame gave it 
 to me. Madame isn't such a mean wretch as you are. You 
 ought to be ashamed of yourself for leaving your wife without 
 a sou ! She hasn't even a pair of shoes to put on ! The other 
 day I had to pay the milkman myself ! Yes, I did sell the 
 ring, and what of that 1 Isn't madame's ring her own 1 She 
 is obliged to turn it into money, since you won't give her an3^ 
 If I were she, I would sell the whole house ! The whole 
 house, do you hearl It distresses me beyond everything to see 
 her going as naked as Saint John the Baptist ! " 
 
 Mouret now began to keep a close watch at all times. He 
 locked up tlie cupboards and drawers and kept the keys in his 
 own possession. When Rose went out he used to look at her 
 hands with a mistrustful glance, and he felt at her ])ockets if 
 he saw any suspicious swelling beneath her skirt. He brought 
 back certain articles from the second-hand dealer and restored 
 them to their places, dusting and wiping them ostentatiously 
 in Marthc's presence to remind her of what he called Rose's 
 thefts. He never directly accused his wife. There was a cut- 
 glass bottle which he made a special source of torture to her.
 
 202 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 
 
 Rose had suld it for twenty sons, and had pretended to Monrct 
 that it was broken. Now he made her biing it and put it on 
 the table at every meal. One morning, at breakfast, she quite 
 lost her temper over it, and she let it fall. 
 
 " Ihere, sir, it's really broken this time, isn't it 1 " she cried, 
 laughing in his face. 
 
 As he threatened to dismiss her, she exclaimed : 
 
 " You had better ! I've been in your service for five and 
 twenty years. If I went, madame would go with me ! " 
 
 Marthe, reduced to extremities and pressed on by Hose and 
 Olympe, at last rebelled. She was desperately in want of five 
 hundred francs. For the last week Olympe had been crying 
 and sobbing, asserting that if she could not get five hundred 
 francs by the end of the month one of the bills which had been 
 endorsed by the Abbe Fanjas would be published in one of the 
 Plassans newspapers. The threatened publication of this bill, 
 this terrible menace which she did not quite understand, threw 
 Mai-the into a state of dreadful alarm and she resolved to dare 
 everything. In the evening, as they Avere going to bed, she 
 asked Mouret for the five hundred francs, and then as he looked 
 at her in amazement, she began to speak of the fifteen years 
 which she had spent behind a counter at Marseilles, Avith a pen 
 behind her ear like a clerk. 
 
 "We made the money together," she said; "and it belongs 
 to us both. I want five hundred francs." 
 
 Mouret broke out violently from his long maintained moody 
 silence, and all his old jeering passion showed itself again. 
 
 " Five hundred francs ! " he cried. " Is it for your priest 
 that you want them 1 I have been behaving like a simpleton 
 and have kept my peace for fear I might say too much ; but 
 you must not imagine that you can go on for ever making a 
 fool of me ! Five Imndred francs ! Why not say the whole 
 house 1 The whole house certainly seems to belong to him ! 
 He wants some money, does he 1 And he has told you to ask 
 me for it 1 I might be amongst a lot of robbers in a wood 
 instead of being in my own house ! I shall have the very 
 handkerchief stolen out of my pocket before long ! I'll be 
 bound that if I were to go and search his room I should find 
 his drawers full of my property. There are seven pairs 
 of my socks missing, four or five shirts and three pairs of 
 drawers. I was going over them yesterday. Everytliing I 
 have is disappearing and I sha'n't have anything left very
 
 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSAN3. 203 
 
 soou! No, not a single son will I give you, not a single 
 sou ! " 
 
 " I want five hundred francs ; half of the money belongs to 
 me," jMarthe replied tranquilly. 
 
 For a whole hour Mouret stormed and fumed and cried out 
 the same string of reproaches. His wife was no longer the 
 same, he said. He did not know her now. Before the priest 
 came, she loved him and obeyed him and looked after the 
 house. Those who set her to act in opposition to him must be 
 very wicked persons. Then his voice grew thick, and he let 
 himself fall into a chair, broken down and as weak as a child. 
 
 " Give me the key of your desk ! " said Marthe. 
 
 He got up from his chair and gathered up his strength for a 
 last cry of protest. 
 
 "You want to strip me of everything! to leave your children 
 with nothing but a bundle of straw for a bed, and you won't 
 leave us even a loaf of bread ! Well ! well ! clear everything 
 out, and send for Rose to fill her apron ! There's the key ! " 
 
 He threw the key to Marthe and she placed it beneath her 
 pillow. She was quite pale after this quarrel, the first violent 
 quarrel which she had ever had with her husband. She got 
 into bed, but Mouret passed the night in an easy-chair. To- 
 wards morning Marthe heard him sobbing. She would have 
 given him back the key, if he had not wildly rushed down into 
 the garden, though it was still pitch dark. 
 
 Peace again seemed to be re-established between them. The 
 key of the desk remained hanging upon a nail near the mirror. 
 Marthe, who was quite unaccustomed to the sight of large 
 sums, felt a sort of fear of the money. She was very bashful 
 and shame-faced at first whenever she went to open the drawer 
 in which Mouret always kept some ten thousand francs in cash 
 to pay for his pin-chases of wine. She strictly confined herself 
 to taking only what was necessary. Olympe, too, gave her 
 the most excellent advice, and told her that now she had the 
 key she ough" to be careful and economical; and seeing the 
 trembling nervousness which she exhibited at the sight of the 
 hoard of money, she ceased for some time to speak to her of the 
 debts at Besangon. 
 
 Mouret relapsed again into his former moody silence. Serge's 
 admission to the Seminary had been another severe blow to 
 him. His friends of the Cours Sauvaire, the retired traders 
 who took their pi-omenadc there regularly between four o'clock
 
 204 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 
 
 and six, began to feel very vineasy about him, as they saw him 
 coming along with his arms swaying about and his face wearing 
 a stupefied expression, hardly making any reply to their re- 
 marks and seeming a prey to some incurable disease. 
 
 " He's breaking up ; he's breaking up," they murmured to 
 each other ; " and he's only forty-four ; it's scarcely credible. 
 He will end by having softening of the brain." 
 
 Moiiret no longer seemed to hear the allusions which were 
 maliciously made before him. If he was questioned directly 
 about the Abbe Faujas, he blushed slightly as he replied that 
 he was an excellent tenant and paid his rent with the greatest 
 punctuality. When his back was turned, the retired shop- 
 keepers griuned and tittered as they sat and basked in the sun 
 on one of the seats in the Cours. 
 
 " Well, after all he is only getting what he deserves," said a 
 retired almond-dealer. " You remember how hot he was for 
 the priest, and how he sang his praises in the four corners of 
 Plassans; but when one talks to him on that subject now, 
 there's rather an odd expression comes over his face." 
 
 Then these worthy gentlemen regaled themselves with cer- 
 tain scandalous stories which they whispered into each other's 
 ears, passing them on in this way from one end of the bench 
 to the other. 
 
 " Well," said a master-tanner in a half whisper, " there isn't 
 much pluck about Mouret ; if I were in his place I would soon 
 show the priest the door." 
 
 Then they all echoed that Mouret was certainly a very timid 
 fellow, he wdio had formerly jeered so at husbands who allowed 
 their wives to lead them by the nose. 
 
 These stories, however, in spite of the persistence with which 
 certain persons kept them afloat, never got beyond a particular 
 set of idle gossiping people, and the reason which the Abbe 
 himself gave for not taking up his residence in the official 
 vicarage, namely, his liking for the Mourets' beautifid garden 
 where he could read his breviary in such perfect peace, was 
 generally accepted as the true one. His great piety, his 
 ascetic life and his contempt for all the frivolities and coquet- 
 tries which other priests allowed themselves placed him beyond 
 all suspicion. The members of the Young Men's Club accused 
 the Abbe Fenil of trying to ruin him. All the new part of the 
 town was on his side, and it was only the Saint Mark quarter 
 that was against him, its aristocratic inhabitants treating
 
 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 20o 
 
 him with great reserve when they met him in Monseigneur 
 Ronsselot's saloons. However, in spite of all his popularity, he 
 shook his head when old Madame Rongon told him that he 
 might now dare all. 
 
 " Nothing is quite safe and solid yet," he said. " I am not 
 sure of any one. The least touch might bring the whole edifice 
 toppling down." 
 
 Marthe had been causing him anxiety for some time past. 
 He recognised that he was incapable of calming the fever of 
 devotion which was raging within her. She escaped from his 
 control and disobeyed him, and advanced further than he wished 
 her to do. He was afraid lest this woman, who was so useful, 
 this much respected patroness, might yet bring about his ruin. 
 There was a fire burning within her which seemed to break 
 down her body, and discolour her flesh, and redden her eyes 
 and make them heavy. It was like an ever-growing disease, an 
 infatuation of her whole being, that was gradually making hei" 
 heart and brain its prey. Her face seemed to be slumbering in 
 some ecstatic ti-ance, and her hands were shaken with a nervous 
 trembling. A dry cough every now and then shook her from 
 head to foot without her seeming conscious of how it was tear- 
 ing her. The Abbe now showed himself sterner to her than 
 before, and tried to crvxsh down that love which was dawning 
 within her, and forbade her to come to Saint-Saturnin's. 
 
 " The church is very cold," he said, " and you cough so much 
 there. I don't want you to do anything to make yourself 
 worse." 
 
 She protested that there was nothing the matter w'ith her 
 beyond a slight irritation of the throat, but at last she yielded 
 and accepted his prohibition to go to the church as a well- 
 deserved punishment which closed the doors of heaven against 
 her. She wept, and believed that she was damned, and dragged 
 herself listlessly through the blank weary days ; and then, in 
 spite of herself, and like a woman returning to a forbidden love, 
 when Friday came, she glided humbly into Saint IMichael's 
 chapel and laid her burning brow against the wood of the con- 
 fessional-box. She did not speak a word, but simply knelt 
 there, completely crushed down and overwhelmed. The Abbe 
 Faujas, who was greatly irritated, treated her harshly and 
 roughly as though she was some unworthy woman, and he sent 
 her away. Then she left the church, feeling liappy and con- 
 soled.
 
 206 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 
 
 The priest was afraid of the effect of the gloomy darkness of 
 Saint Alicliael's chapel ii})on Marthe. He spoke npon the sub- 
 ject to Doctor Portpxier, who persuaded Marthe to go to con- 
 fession in the little oratoi'j of the Home of the Virgin in the 
 suburb. The Abbe Faujas promised to bo there to hear her 
 every other Saturday. This oratory, which had been estab- 
 lished in a large white-washed room with four great windows, 
 was bright and cheerful and would, he calculated, have a 
 calming effect upon the over-excited imagination of his penitent. 
 There, he thoiight, he would be able to bring her under his 
 control and reduce her to obedience, without having to fear a 
 l)0ssible scandal. As a guard against all calumnious gossip, he 
 asked his mother to accompany Marthe, and while he was con- 
 fessing the latter, Madame Faujas remained outside the door. 
 As the old lady was not fond of wasting her time, she took her 
 knitting with her and worked away at a stocking. 
 
 " My dear child," she often said to Marthe, as they were re- 
 turning together to the Kue Balande, " I could hear very well 
 what Ovide was saying to you to-day. You don't seem to be 
 able to please him. You can't love him. Ah ! I would that I 
 were in your place to be able to kiss his feet I I shall grow to 
 hate you, if you go on causing him nothing but trouble." 
 
 Marthe bent her head. She felt a deep shame in Madame 
 Faujas's presence. She did not like her, and she felt a jealousy 
 of her, finding her always coming between herself and the priest. 
 The old lady's dark eyes, too, troubled her as they were con- 
 stantly bent upon her, seeming full of strange and disquieting 
 hints. 
 
 Marthe's weak state of health was sufficient to account for 
 her meetings with the Abbe Faujas in the oratory at the Home 
 of the Virgin. Doctor Porquier stated that she did so simply 
 in obedience to his orders, and the promenaders in the Cours 
 wore vastly amused at this saying of the doctor's. 
 
 " Well, all the same," said Madame Paloque to her husband 
 one day, as she watched Marthe going down the Rue Pialande, 
 accompanied by Madame Faujas, " I should like to be in some 
 corner and watch what the vicar does with his sweetheart. It 
 is very amusing to hear her talk of her bad cold ! As though 
 a bad cold was any reason why one shouldn't make one's con- 
 fession in a church ! I have had colds, but I never made them 
 an excuse for going and shutting myself up in a little chapel 
 with a priest."
 
 THE CONQUEST OF TLASSANS. 207 
 
 "You are doing very wrongly to interfere in the Abbe Fau- 
 jas's affairs," the judge said to her. "I have been spoken tn 
 about him. He is a man with whom we must be on o-ood 
 terms, and you will prevent us from being so ; you are too 
 spiteful," 
 
 "Stuff!" she retorted angrily; "they have trampled nie 
 under foot and I will let them know who I am! Your Abbe 
 Faujas is a great imliecile ! Don't you suppose that the Abbe 
 Fenil would be very grateful to nie if I could catch the vicar 
 aud his sweetheart making love 1 Ah ! he would make a scandal 
 like that very well worth our while ! Just you leave me rdone ; 
 you don't understand anything about such matters." 
 
 A fortnight later, Madame Paloque watched Marthe go out 
 on the Saturday. Slie was standing ready dressed behind her 
 curtains, hiding her hideous face and keeping watch over the 
 street through a hole in the muslin. When the two women 
 disappeared round the corner of the Rue Taravelle, she snig- 
 gered with her gaping mouth. She leisurely drew on her gloves 
 and then went quietly out into the Place of the Sub-Prefecture, 
 and walked slowly round it. As she passed in front of Madame 
 de Condamin's little house, she thought for a moment of going 
 in and taking her with her, but she reflected that she might, 
 perhaps, have scruples. And altogether, she told herself, it 
 was better to be without witnesses, and to manage the business 
 by herself. 
 
 " I have given them time," she thought, after a quarter of 
 an hour's promenade, " to get to the deadly sins. I think I 
 may present myself now." 
 
 Then she quickened her pace. She frequently went to the 
 Home of the Virgin to discuss the accoimts with Trouche, but 
 to-day, instead of going into the secretary's office, she went 
 straight through the corridor and towards the oratory. Madame 
 Faujas was quietly knitting on a chair in front of the door. 
 
 The judge's wife had foreseen this obstacle. She went 
 straight on to the door with the hasty manner of a person who 
 has important business on hand, but before she could reach out 
 lier hand to turn the handle, the old lady had risen from 
 her chair and pushed her away witli an extraordinary amount 
 of energy. 
 
 "Wlicre are you going?" she asked in lier blunt peasant- 
 woman's tones. 
 
 " I am going where I have business," Madame Paloque
 
 208 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 
 
 replied, her arm smarting and her face convulsed with anger. 
 " You are an insolent and brutish woman ! Let me pass ! 
 I am the treasurer of the Home of the Virgin, and I have a 
 right to go anywhere here I want." 
 
 Madame Faujas, who was standing leaning against the door, 
 straightened her spectacles upon her nose, and resumed her 
 knitting with the most unruffled tranquillity. 
 
 "No," she said bluntly, "you can't go in there." 
 
 " Can't, indeed ! And may I ask why 1 " 
 
 " Because I don't wish that you should." 
 
 The judge's wife felt that her plan was frustrated and she 
 almost choked with spleen and anger. She was perfectly 
 frightful to look at as she gasped and stammered out : 
 
 " I don't know who you are and I don't know what you anj 
 doing here. If I were to call out, I could have you arrested 
 for you have struck me. There must be some great wMckednesf, 
 going on at the other side of that door for you to have been put 
 there to keep people from entering. I belong to the house, I 
 tell you ! Let me pass, or I shall call for help." 
 
 " Call for anyone you like," the old lady replied, shrugging 
 her shoulders. " I have told you that you shall not go in, that 
 I won't let you. How was I to know that you belong to the 
 house 1 But it makes no difference whether you do or you 
 don't. No one can go in. I won't let them." 
 
 Then Madame Paloque lost all control of herself, and she 
 raised her voice and shrieked out : 
 
 " I have no occasion to go in now ! I have learnt quite 
 sufficient ! You are the Abbe Faujas's mother, are you not 1 
 This is a very decent and pretty part for you to be playing ! 
 I wouldn't enter the room now ! I wouldn't mix myself up 
 with all this filthiness ! " 
 
 Madame Faujas laid her knitting down upon the chair, and, 
 bending slightly forwards, gazed at Madame Paloque with her 
 glistening eyes through her spectacles, holding her hands a 
 little in front of her as though she were about to spring upon 
 the angry woman and silence her. She was just going to 
 throw herself upon her^ when the door was suddenly opened 
 and the Abbe Faujas appeared on the threshold. He was in 
 his surplice and he looked very stern. 
 
 'Well, mother," he asked, "what is going on herel" 
 
 The old lady bent her head, and stepped back like a dog 
 that is taking its place at its master's heels.
 
 THE CONQUEST OF TLASSANS. 209 
 
 'Ah! is that yon, dear Madame Paloquc V the priest con- 
 tinued ; " do you want to speak to me 1 " 
 
 By a supreme effort of her Avill, the judge's wife had forced 
 her face into a smile. She answered the priest in a tone that 
 'was terrible in its amiability and mingled irony. 
 
 " Ah ! you were inside there were you, your reverence 1 If 
 I had known that, I would not have insisted upon entering. I 
 want to see the altar cloth, which must, I think, be getting into 
 a bad condition. I am a careful supervisor here, you know, 
 and I keep my eye upon all these little details. But, of course, 
 if you are engaged here, I wouldn't think of disturbing you. 
 Pray go on wuth what you are doing ; the hoiise is yours. If 
 madame had only just dropped me a word, I would have left 
 her quietly to continue guarding you from being disturbed." 
 
 ]\Iadame Faujas allowed a growl to escape from her, but a 
 glance from her son reduced her to silence. 
 
 "Come in, 1 beg of you," he said ; " you wont disturb me at 
 all. I was confessing Madame Mouret, who is not very well. 
 Come in, by all means. The altar-cloth might really very well 
 be changed, I think." 
 
 " Oh, no ! I will come some other time," Madanie Paloque 
 replied. " I am quite distressed to have interrupted you. 
 Pray go on, your reverence, pray go on ! " 
 
 Notwithstanding her protestations, however, she entered the 
 room. While she was examining the altar-cloth with Marthe, 
 the priest be.i;an to chide his mother in low tones. 
 
 " Why did you prevent her coming in, mother 1 I never told 
 you to allow no one to enter." 
 
 She gazed straight in front of her with her obstinate dfeter- 
 niined glance. 
 
 " She would have had to walk over my body before she got 
 inside," she nuu'mured. 
 
 "But why'l" 
 
 "Because — Listen to me, Ovidc ; don't be angry; you 
 know that it pains me to see you angry. You told me to 
 accompany our landlady here, didn't you 1 Well, I thought 
 you wanted me to stop inquisitive people's curiosity. So I 
 took my seat out here. I can assure you that you were quite 
 free to do anything you liked. No one should have put a head 
 inside the door." 
 
 He seized his mother's hands and shook her as he cried : 
 
 " Wliy, mothei', you couldn't have supposed — " 
 
 o
 
 210 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 
 
 "I suppose nothing," she replied, with a sublime indifFerence. 
 " You are quite free to do whatever j^leases you, and whatever 
 you do is right. You are my child ; I would steal for you, j 
 would." 
 
 The priest was no longer listening to her. He had let his 
 mother's hands drop, and, as he gazed at her, he seemed to be 
 lost in reflections, which made his face look harder and more 
 austere than ever. 
 
 "No, never, never!" he exclaimed with lofty sternness. 
 " You are greatly mistaken, mother. It is only the chaste 
 who are powerful."
 
 2U 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 At seventeen years of age, Desiree still preserved her innocent 
 child-like laugh. She was now a fine tall girl, plump and well 
 developed, with the arros and shoulders of a full-grown woman. 
 She grew like a healthy plant, happy in her growth and de- 
 velopment, and quite untouched by the unhappincss which was 
 wrcckifig and casting a gloom over the house. 
 
 " Why do you never laugh 1 " she cried to her father one day. 
 " Come and have a game at skipping-rope ! It's such fun ! " 
 
 She had taken possession of the whole of one of the 
 beds of the garden, which she dug up and planted with 
 vegetables which she carefully watered. The hard work de- 
 lighted her. Then she had desired to have some fowls, which 
 devoured her vegetables and which she scolded with a motherly 
 tenderness. In these occupations of hers, in her gardening and 
 fowl keeping, she used to make herself dreadfully dirty. 
 
 " She's perfectly filthy ! " cried Rose. " I won't have her 
 coming into my kitchen any more ; she dirties everything ! It 
 is no use your trying to keep her neatly dressed, madame. If 
 I were you I sliould just leave her to mess about as she likes." 
 
 Marthe now, in the preoccupation of her mind, no longer 
 even took care' that Desiree changed her under-linen regularly. 
 The girl sometimes wore the same chemise for three weeks to- 
 gether; her stockings, which fell over her shoes that were sadly 
 worn down at the heels, were in a lamentable state of holes, 
 and her tattered skirts hung about her like a beggar's rags. 
 Mouret was one day obliged to take up a needle himself. The 
 girl's dress was torn behind from top to bottom, and her fiesli 
 showed through the rent. She laughed with glee at her naked- 
 ness, and at her hair that fell over her shoulders, and at her 
 black hands and dirty face. 
 
 Marthe grew to feel a sort of disgust at her. When she re- 
 turned home from mass, still retaining in her hair tlie vague 
 odours of the church, she quite ishuddered at the strong sceut
 
 212 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 
 
 of earth which exhaled from her daughter. She sent her off 
 into the garden again immediately breakfast was over. Slie 
 could not bear to have her near her, and felt distressed and 
 disquieted by her robust vigour and her clear laugh which 
 seemed to find amusement and happiness in everything. 
 
 " Oh, dear ! how wearisome the child is ! " she used to mur- 
 mur sometimes, with an air of nerveless lassitude. 
 
 As Mouret heard her complain, he exclaimed in an impulse 
 of anger : 
 
 " If she is in your way, we will turn her out of the house, as 
 we have done the other two." 
 
 " Indeed, I should be very glad if she were to go away," 
 Marthe replied, luihesitatingly. 
 
 One afternoon, about the end of the summer, Mouret was 
 alarmed at no longer being able to hear Desiree, who, a few 
 minutes previously, had been making a tremendous noise at 
 the bottom of the garden. He ran down to see what had hap- 
 pened to her, and he found her lying upon the ground. She 
 had fallen from a ladder on to which she had mounted to gather 
 figs; the box-plants had fortunately broken the force of her fail. 
 Mouret, in a great fright, lifted her up in his arms and called 
 for assistance. He thought she was dead; but she quickly 
 came to herself and said she was none the worse and wanted to 
 mount the ladder again. 
 
 Marthe, however, had in the meantime come down into tlie 
 garden. When she heard Desiree laugh she Seemed quite 
 annoyed. 
 
 " That child will kill me one of these days," she exclaimed. 
 " She seems to do nothing but try to alarm me. I am sure she 
 threw herself down on purpose. I can't endure it any longer. 
 I shall shut myself up in my own room, and when I go out in 
 the morning I shall not retui-n again till the evening. Yes, 
 you may laugh, you great goose ! To think that it's possible I 
 should have brought such a ninny into the world ! You are 
 making me pay for it very dearly ! " 
 
 "Yes, that she is ! " cried Rose, who had run down from the 
 kitchen ; " she is a great burden, and there is no chance of our 
 ever being able to get her married." 
 
 Mouret looked at them and listened to them with a grieving 
 heart. He made no remark, but he stayed with the young girl 
 at the bottom of the garden, and they remained out chatting 
 affectionately together till nightfall. The next day, Marthe
 
 THE CONQUEST OF TLASSANS. 213 
 
 and Rose T\-ere away from the house the whole morning. They 
 went to hear mass in a chapel, a league away from Flassans, 
 that was dedicated to Saint-Jannarius, to which all the pious 
 folks of the town made a pilgrimage on this particular day. 
 When they returned, the cook hastily served up a cold lunch. 
 Marthe ate for a few minutes before she noticed that her 
 daughter was not at table. 
 
 " Isn't Desiree hungry ] " she asked. " Why hasn't she come 
 to lunch 1 " 
 
 " Desiree is no longer here," answered Mouret, who left his 
 food almost untouched upon his plate ; " I took her this morn- 
 ing to Saint-F.utrope to her nurse's." 
 
 Marthe laid down her fork, and turned a little pale, seeming 
 surprised and hurt. 
 
 " You ought to have consulted me," she said. 
 Her husband, without making any direct reply, continued : 
 " She is all right with her nurse. The good woman is very 
 fond of her, and will look well after her, and the child will no 
 longer be in your way, and every one will be happy." 
 'J hen, as his wife said nothing, he added : 
 "If the house is not yet sufficiently quiet for you, just tell 
 me, and I will go away myself." 
 
 She half rose from her seat, and a light glistened in her eyes. 
 Mouret had just wounded her so cruelly that she reached out 
 her hand as though she were going to throw^ the water-bottle 
 at his head. In her nature that had been so long submissive, 
 angry promptings were now being fanned into life, and she was 
 gi-owing to hate this man who was ever nagging at her with a 
 hatred that was full of remorse. She made a show of eating 
 again, but she said nothing further about her daughter. Mouret 
 had folded his napkin, and he remained sitting in front of her, 
 listening to the sound of her fork, and casting lingering glances 
 round the dining-room that had once been so merry with the 
 chatter of the cliildren, but which was now so empty and 
 mournful. The room seemed to him to be quite chilly, and 
 tears were mounting to his eyes when Marthe called to Rose to 
 bring in the dessert. 
 
 "You must be very hungry, I should think, madame," the 
 cook said, as she put a plateful of fruit upon the table. " Wc 
 have had a long walk ; and if the master, instead of playing 
 the pagan, had come with us, he would not liavo left you to eat 
 the mutton all by yourself."
 
 214 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 
 
 She changed the plates, without ceasing lier chattering. 
 
 "It is very pretty is that chapel of Saint-Januarius, but it is 
 too small. Did you see that the ladies who came late were ob- 
 liged to kneel down outside on the grass, in the open air 1 I 
 can't understand why Madame de Condamin came in a carriage. 
 There's no merit in making the pilgrimage if you come that 
 way. We spent a delightful morning, didn't we, madame ? " 
 
 " Yes, a very delightful morning," Marthe replied. " The 
 Abbe Mousseau, who preached, was very affecting." 
 
 When Rose in her turn noticed Desiree's absence and learnt 
 of the girl's departure, she exclaimed : 
 
 •' Well, really, it was a very good idea of the master's ! She 
 was always walking off with my sauce-pans to water her plants. 
 We shall be able to have a little peace now." 
 
 " Yes, indeed," said Marthe, who was cutting a pear. 
 
 Mouret was almost choking. He got up and left the dining- 
 room without paying any attention to Rose, who cried out to 
 him that the coffee would be ready directly. Marthe, now left 
 alone in the room, tranquilly finished her pear. 
 
 Just as the cook was bringing the coffee, Madame Faujas 
 came downstairs. 
 
 "Go in," Rose said to her: "you will be company for madame, 
 and you can have the master's cup, for he has just rushed off 
 like a madman." 
 
 The old lady sat down in Mouret's place. 
 
 " I thought you did not take coffee," she remarked as she 
 put some sugar into her cup. 
 
 " No, indeed, she didn't use to do," interposed Rose, " when 
 the master kept the purse. But madame would be very silly 
 now to deny herself what she is so fond of." 
 
 They talked for a good hour together, and Marthe ended by 
 relating all her troubles to Madame Faujas, telling her how her 
 husband had just been inflicting a most painful scene upon her 
 on account of her daughter, whom he had taken off to her 
 nurse's in a sudden whim. She defended herself and told 
 Madame Faujas that she v/as really extremely fond of the girl, 
 and that she should go for her some day soon. 
 
 " She was rather noisy, certainly," Madame Faujas remarked. 
 " I have often pitied you. My son was thinking about giving 
 over going into the garden to read his breviary. She almost 
 distracted him with the noise she made." 
 
 From this day Marthe and Mouret took their meals in silence.
 
 THE CONQUEST OF TLASSANS. 215 
 
 The autumn was very damp, and the dining-i'oom looked in- 
 tensely melancholy with the two far apart covers, separated 
 liy the whole length of the big table. The corners were dark 
 .ind gloomy, and the cold seemed to fall from the ceiling. As 
 liose would say, it looked as though a funeral were going on. 
 
 " Well, indeed," she often used to exclaim, as she brought 
 tlie plates into the room, " you couldn't make much less noise, 
 however you tried ! There isn't much danger of your wearing 
 the skin of your tongue off! Do try to be a little livelier, sir ! 
 You look as though you were following a corpse to the grave ! 
 You will end by making madame quite ill. It is bad for the 
 health to eat without speaking." 
 
 When the first frosts came, Rose, who sought in every way 
 to oblige Madame Faujas, offered her the use of her stove for 
 cooking. The old lady had commenced to bring down kettles 
 of water to get them boiled, as she had no fire, she said, and 
 the Abbe was in a hurry to shave himself. Then she borrowed 
 some flat irons, and begged the use of some sauce-pans, and 
 asked for the loan of the dutch-oven to cook some mutton, and 
 then, in the end, as she had no conveniently arranged fireplace 
 upstairs, she accepted Rose's offers, and the cook lighted a fire 
 of vine branches, big enough to roast a whole sheep. 
 
 " Don't feel any diffidence about it," she said, as she herself 
 turned tlie leg of mutton round ; "the kitchen is a large one, 
 isn't it ? and big enough for us both. I don't know how you've 
 been able to manage to do your cooking upstairs as long as you 
 have done, with only that miserable iron stove. I should have 
 been afraid of falling down in an apoplectic fit. Monsieur 
 Mouret ought to know better than to let a set of rooms with- 
 out any kitchen. You must be very enduring kind of people, 
 and very easily satisfied." 
 
 Madame Faujas gradually began to cook lier lunch and 
 dinner in the Mourets' kitchen. The first few times she pro- 
 vided her own coal and oil and spices. But afterwards, when 
 she forgot to bring any article with her, Rose would not allow 
 her to go upstairs for it, but insisted upon supplying the de- 
 ficiency from the stores of the house. 
 
 " Oh, there's some butter there ! The little bit which you 
 will take with the end of your knife won't ruin us. You know 
 ([uite well that everything here is at your service. Madame 
 wf)uld be angry with me if I didn't make you quite at homo 
 liere,"
 
 216 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 
 
 A close intimacy now sprang up between Rose and Madame 
 Faujas. The cook was delighted to have some one always at 
 hand who was willing to listen to her as she stirred her sauces. 
 She got on extremely well with the priest's mother, whose print 
 dresses and rough face and unpolished demeanour put her 
 almost on a footing of equality with herself. Thoy sat chatting 
 together for hours before the fire-place, and Madame Faujas 
 soon gained complete sway in the kitchen, though she still 
 maintained her impenetrable attitude, and only said what slie 
 chose to say, while she contrived to worm out all that she 
 wanted to know. She settled the Mourets' dinner, aud tasted 
 the dishes which she had arranged they should have, and Rose 
 herself often made savoury little luxuries for the Abbe's delec- 
 tation, such as sugared apples or rice-cakes or fritters. The 
 provisions of the two establishments often got mixed up to- 
 gether, and the different pans got confused, and the two dinners 
 got so intermingled that Rose would cry out laughingly as she 
 was going to serve up the meat : 
 
 " Tell me, madame, are these poached eggs yours? Really, T 
 don't know. Upon my word, it Avould be much better if you 
 were all to dine together ! " 
 
 It was on All Saints' Day that the Abbe Faujas lunched for 
 the first time in the Mourets' dining-room. He was in a gieat 
 hurry, as he had to I'eturn very shortly to Saint-Saturnin's, and 
 so, to give him as much time as possible, Marthe made him 
 sit down at their own table, saying that it would save his 
 mother having to mount up a couple of flights. A week later it 
 had become a regular thing, and the Faujases came downstairs 
 at every meal and took their seats at the tal)le, just as if they 
 were entering a restaurant. For the first few days their pro- 
 visions were cooked and served separately, but then Rose said 
 this was a very silly arrangement, and that she could easily 
 cook for four persons and that she would arrange it all with 
 Madame Faujas. 
 
 " Pray don't thank me," she said to the Abbe and his mother ; 
 "it is a kindness on your part to come down and keep madame 
 company. You will cheer her up a little. I scarcely dare go 
 into the diuing-room now ; it is just like going into the chamber 
 of death. It quite frightens me, it feels so desolate. If the 
 master chooses to go on sulking now, it will only be himself 
 who will snffer from it, and he v\'ill have to sulk all by himself." 
 
 They kcj^t up a roaring fire, and the room was very warm.
 
 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 217 
 
 They had a deliglitful winter, and Rose bad never before taken 
 sucli paii]s to bavc the table-linen in perfect order. She placed 
 his reverence's chair near the stove, so that he had his back to 
 the fire. She paid particiilar attention to his glass and his 
 knife and fork, and she took care that when the least stain 
 made its appearance upon the cloth it was not put on his side, 
 and slie paid him numberless other delicate little attentions. 
 
 When she had prepared any dish of which he was particularly 
 fond, she gave him notice of it that he might reserve himself 
 for it ; though sometimes, on the other hand, she made a sur- 
 prise of it for him, and she brought it into the room under a 
 cover, smiling at the inquisitive glances that were directed to- 
 wards it, and exclaiming with an air of suppressed triiunph : 
 
 "This is for his i-everence ! It is a wild-duck stufTed with 
 olives, just what he is so fond of. Give his reverence the 
 breast, madame. I did it specially for him." 
 
 Marthe carved the duck and pressed the choicest morsels upon 
 tlie Abbe with beseeching looks. She always helped him the 
 first, putting tlie daintiest portions of the dish upon his plate, 
 while Rose bent over her and pointed out what she thought 
 were the best parts. They occasionally even had little disputes 
 as to the superiority of this or that part of a fowl or rabbit. 
 Rose used to push an embroidered hassock under the priest's 
 feet, while Marthe insisted that he should always have his 
 bottle of Bordeaux and his roll, ordering one of these latter 
 specially for him every day from the baker. 
 
 " We can never do too much for you," Rose said when the Abbe 
 expressed his thanks. " Who sliould be well looked after, if it 
 isn't good kind hearts like yours ? Don't you trouble yourselves 
 about it, the Lord will pay your debt for you." 
 
 Madame Faujas smiled at all these flattering civilities as she 
 sat at the table opposite her son. She was beginning to be 
 quite fond of Marthe and Rose and she considered their adora- 
 tion only natural, and thought it a great hiq^piness for them 
 to be allowed to cast themselves in this way at the feet of 
 her idol. It was really she with her square head and peasant 
 manner who presided over the talile, eating slowly but largely, 
 and noticing everything that hapjjencd without once letting go 
 her fork, while she took care that Marthe should not fail to 
 play the part of servant to her son at whom she was constantly 
 gazing with an expression of pleased contentment. She never 
 op'^ned her lijjs except to make known in as few words as pos-
 
 218 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 
 
 sible the Abbe's tastes or to over rale the polite refusals in which 
 he still occasionally indulged. Sometimes she shrugged her 
 shoulders and pushed him with her foot. Wasn't everything 
 on the table at his service 1 He might eat the whole contents 
 of the dish if he liked, and the others would be quite happy to 
 nibble at their dry bread and look at him. 
 
 The Abbe Faujas himself, however, seemed quite indifferent 
 to all the tender cares which were lavished upon him. Of a 
 very frugal disposition and a quick eater, his mind always 
 occupied with other matters, he frequently was quite uncon- 
 scious of the dainties which were reserved specially for him. 
 He had yielded to his mother's entreaties and had consented to 
 join the Mourets, but the only satisfaction he experienced in 
 the dining-room on the ground-floor was the pleasure of being 
 set entirely free from the cai'es of the physical life. He mani- 
 fested a most unruffled serenity, and he gradually grew 
 accustomed to seeing his least wish anticipated and fulfilled, 
 and he ceased to manifest any surprise or express any thanks, 
 lording it haughtily between the mistress of the house and the 
 cook, who kept an anxious watch over the slightest motion of 
 his stern face. 
 
 Mouret sat opposite his wife, quite forgotten and unnoticed. 
 He let his hands rest upon the edge of the table, and waited, 
 like a child, till Marthe was willing to attend to him. She helped 
 him the last, scantily, and to whatever might happen to be left. 
 Rose stood behind her and warned her when by mistake she was 
 going to give her husband some of the more delicate morsels on 
 the dish. 
 
 " No, no ; not that. The master likes the head, you know. 
 He enjoys sucking the little bones." 
 
 Mouret, snubbed and slighted, ate his food with a sort of 
 shame as though he was subsisting unworthily on other people's 
 bounty. He could see Madame Faujas watching him keenly as 
 he cut his bread. He kept his eyes fixed on the bottle for a 
 whole minute, full of doubtful hesitation, before he dare venture 
 to help himself to the water. Once he made a mistake and 
 took a little of the priest's Bordeaux. There was a tremendous 
 fuss made about it, and for a whole month afterwards Rose 
 reproached him for those few drops of wine. When she made 
 any sweet dish, she used to say : 
 
 " I don't want the master to have any of that. He never 
 thinks anything I make is nice. He told me once that an
 
 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 219 
 
 omelet I had made was burnt, and then I said ' they shall be 
 burnt altogether for you.' Don't give any of it to the master, 
 I beg of you, madame." 
 
 She did all she could, too, to worry him and Tipsct him. 
 She gave him cracked plates, contrived that one of the table 
 legs should come between his own, left shreds of the glass-cloth 
 clinging to his glass and placed tlie bread and wine and salt as 
 far from him as possible. Mouret was the only one in the 
 family who was fond of mustard, and he used to go himself to 
 the grocer's and buy canisters of it, which the cook promptly 
 caused to disappear, saying that they "stank so." The depriv- 
 ation of mustard quite spoilt his enjoyment of his meals. But 
 what made liim still more miserable and robbed him of all 
 appetite was his expulsion from his own seat, which he had 
 always previously occupied, in front of the window, which was 
 now given to the priest, as being the pleasantest in the room. 
 Mouret was made to sit with his face towards the door, and he 
 felt as though he were eating amongst strangers, now that he 
 could not at each mouthful cast a glance at his fruit-trees. 
 
 Marthe was not so bitter against him as Rose was. She 
 treated him like a poor relation, whose presence is just tolerated, 
 and she gradually grew to almost ignore him altogether, scarcely 
 ever addressing a remark to him, and acting as though the 
 Abbe Faujas had alone the right to give orders in the house. 
 Mouret, however, showed no inclination to rebel, and he 
 occasionally exchanged a few polite phrases with the priest, 
 though he generally ate in perfect silence and replied to the 
 cook's attacks only by looking calmly at her. He always 
 finished before any of the others, and he used to fold up his 
 napkin tidily and then leave the room, frequently before the 
 dessert was placed upon the table. 
 
 Rose alleged that he was bui-sting with anger, and when she 
 gossiped in the kitchen with Madame Faujas, she discussed her 
 master freely. 
 
 " I know him very well ; I've never been afraid of him. 
 Before you came, madame used to tremble before him, for he 
 was always scolding and blustering and trying to appear very 
 teiTible. He used to worry our lives out of us, always poking 
 ahont and never finding anything right, prying all over and trying 
 to show us that he was master. Now he is as docile as a shcei), 
 isn't he ? It's just because madame has asserted licrself. Ah ! 
 if lie weren't a coward and weren't afraid of what might happen,
 
 220 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 
 
 , jou would hear a pretty row. But he is afraid of your son ; 
 yes, he is afraid of his reverence the vicar. Anyone would say, 
 to look at hini; that he lost his senses every now and then. 
 But after all, as long as he doesn't bother us any longer, he is 
 welcome to act as he pleases; isn't he, madame?" 
 
 Madame Faujas replied that Monsieur Mouret seemed to her 
 to be a very worthy man, and that his only fault was his lack 
 of religion. But he would certainly adopt a better mode of life 
 in time, she said. The old lady was gradiially making herself 
 mistress of the whole of the ground-floor, going from the kitchen 
 to the dining-room, and bustling about in the lobby and passage. 
 When Mouret met her, he used to recall the day when the 
 Faujases first arrived ; when, wearing that shabby black dress 
 of Ijers, she tenaciously clung to her basket with both hands 
 and poked her head inquisitively into each room with all the 
 unruffled serenity of a person inspecting a property for sale. 
 
 Since the Faujases had begun to take their meals downstairs, 
 the Trouches were left in possession of the second-floor. They 
 made a great deal of noise, and sounds of furniture being moved 
 about and stamping of feet and loud voices and doors violently 
 opened and closed again were heard by those downstairs. 
 Madame Faujas at these times used to raise her head in the 
 midst of her gossiping in the kitchen with an uneasy expression. 
 Kose, for the sake of putting her at her ease, used to say that 
 that poor Madame Trouche suffered a great deal of pain. One 
 night, the Abbe, who had not yet gone to bed, heard a strange 
 commotion on the stair-case, fie went out of his room with his 
 candle in his hand, and he saw Trouche, disgracefully drunk, 
 climbing up the stairs on his knees. He seized him in his strong 
 arms and threw him into his room. Olympe was in bed, quietly- 
 reading a novel and sipping a glass of spirits that was standing 
 on a little table at the bed-side. 
 
 " Listen to me," said the Abbe Faujas, livid with rage, "you 
 will pack up your things in the morning and take yourselves 
 off!" 
 
 " Why 1 What for 1 " asked Olympe, quite calmly ; " we are 
 very comfortable here." 
 
 The priest interrupted her very sternly. 
 
 " Hold your tongue ! You are a miserable woman, and yon 
 have never tried to do anything but injure me. Our mother 
 was right ; I should never have rescued you from your state of 
 wretchedness. I've just had to pick your husband up on the
 
 abb£ faujas taking drunken trouche to ms wife. 
 
 p. 220.
 
 THE CONQUEST OF TLASSAXS. 221 
 
 stairs ! It is discrraceful. Think of the scandal there would 
 be, if he were to be seen in this state! You will go away in the 
 moniing." 
 
 Olympe sat up to take a drink of the spirits. 
 
 " No, no, indeed ! " she said. 
 
 Trouche laughed. He was drunkenly merry. Then he fell 
 back into an arm-chair in a state of happy complaisance. 
 
 " Don't let us quarrel," he stammered out. "It is a mere 
 nothing ; only a little giddiness. The air, which is very cold, 
 has made me dizzy, that's all. And your streets in this con- 
 founded towni are so very confusing. I say, Faujas, there are 
 some very nice young fellows about here. There is Doctor 
 Porquier's son. You know Doctor Porquier, don't you 1 Well, 
 I meet the son in a cafe behind the gaol. It is kept by a 
 woman from Aries, a fine handsome w^oman with a dark com- 
 plexion." 
 
 The priest had crossed his arms and was looking at him with 
 a terrible expression. 
 
 " No, really, Faujas, I assiu'c you that you are quite wrong 
 to be angry with me. You know that I have been well brought 
 up, and that I know how to behave myself. In the day-time 
 I wouldn't even touch a drop of syrup for fear of compromising 
 3-()u. While I have been here I have gone to my office just 
 like a boy going to school, with slices of bread and jam in a 
 little basket. It's a very stupid sort of life, I can assure you, 
 and I only do it to be of service to you. But at night, I'm not 
 likely to be seen, and I can go about a little. It does me 
 good, and I should die if I kept myself locked up here always. 
 There is no one in the streets, you know. What funny streets 
 they are, eh ! " 
 
 " Sot ! " growled the priest from between his clenched teeth. 
 
 "You won't be friends, then? Well, that's very wrong of 
 you, old chap. I'm a jolly fellow myself, and 1 don't like 
 sour looks, and if what I do doesn't please jou, I'll leave you 
 to get on with your pious ladies by yourself. That little Con- 
 damin is the only decent one amongst them, and she doesn't 
 come up to the cafe-keeper from Aries. Oh, yes ! you may roll 
 your eyes about as much as you like. I can get on quite well 
 without you. See ! would you like me to lend you a hundred 
 francs 1 " 
 
 He drew out a bundle of bank-notes and spread them on his 
 knees, laughing loudly as he did so. Then he swept them
 
 222 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 
 
 under the Abbe's nose and threw them up in the air. Olympe 
 sprang out of bed, half naked, and picked up the notes and 
 placed them under the bolster with an expression of vexation. 
 The Abbe Faujas glanced round him in great surprise. He 
 saw bottles of spirits arranged all along the top of the chest of 
 drawers, a scarcely touched pie on the mantel-piece, and some 
 sugar-plums in a tattered old box. The room was full of recent 
 purchases ; dresses thrown over the chairs, an opened pai'cel of 
 lace, a magnificent new over-coat hanging from the window- 
 catch, and a bear-skin spread out in front of the bed. By the 
 side of Olympe's glass of grog on the little table there was a 
 small gold lady's watch glittering in a porcelain tray. 
 
 " Whom have they been plundering, I wonder 1 " thought the 
 priest. 
 
 Then he recollected having seen Olympe kissing Marthe's 
 hands. 
 
 " You miserable people ! " he cried ; "you have been thiev- 
 ing ! " 
 
 Trouche sprang up, but his wife pushed him down on to the 
 couch. 
 
 "Keep yourself quiet ! " she said to him, "and go to sleep, 
 for you want it." 
 
 Then, turning to her brother, she continued : 
 
 " It is one o'clock and you might leave us to go to sleep if 
 you have only disagreeable things to say to us. My husband 
 is certainly wrong to intoxicate himself, but that's no reason 
 why you should abuse him. "We have already had several 
 explanations ; this one must be the last, do you understand, 
 Ovide] We are brother and sister, are we not '? Well, then, 
 as I have told you before, we must go halves. You gorge 
 yourself downstairs aud you have all kinds of dainty dishes, 
 and you live a fat life between the landlady and the cook. 
 Well, you please yourself about that. We don't come and look 
 into your plate nor try to pull the dainty morsels out of your 
 mouth. We let you manage your affairs as you like. Very 
 well then, do you leave us alone and allow us the same 
 liberty. I don't think I am asking anything unreasonable." 
 
 The priest made a gesture of impatience. 
 
 " Oh yes, I understand," she continued ; " you are afraid lest 
 we shovild compromise you in your schemes. The best way to 
 ensure our not doing so is to leave us in peace and not to worry 
 us. Ah I in spite of all your grand airs, you are not a very
 
 THE CONQUEST OF PLASS^VNS. 223 
 
 clever person. We have the same interests as you have, we are 
 all of the same family, and we might very well hunt together. 
 It would be much \he best plan, if you would only see it. 
 There, go to bed, now ! I -will scold Trouche in the morning, 
 and I will send him to you and you can give him your in- 
 structions." 
 
 " Ah ! he is an odd person, that Faujas," muttered the 
 drunken man, who was half-asleep. " I don't want the land- 
 lady, I like her money much better." 
 
 Then Olympe broke out into an impudent laugh and looked 
 at her brother. She had got into bed again, and had settled 
 herself down comfortably with her back propped up against the 
 pillow. The priest, who was a little pale, was thinking ; then, 
 without saying another word, he left the room, and Olympe 
 resumed her novel, while Trouche lay snoring on the couch. 
 
 The next morning, Trouche, who had recovered his soberness, 
 had a long interview with the Abbe Faujas. When he returned 
 to his wife, he informed her of the conditions upon which peace 
 had again been patched up. 
 
 " Listen to me, my dear," Olympe said to him ; "give way to 
 him and do what he asks. Above all t-y to be useful to him, 
 since he gives you the chance of being so. I put on a bold face 
 Avhen he is here, but in my own heart I know quite well 
 that he will turn us out into the street like dogs if we push 
 him too far, and I don't want to have to leave here. Are you 
 sure that he will let us stay "? " 
 
 " Oh yes ; don't be afraid," the secretary replied. " He has 
 need of me, and he will leave us to feather our nest." 
 
 From this time Trouche used to go out every evening about 
 nine o'clock, when the streets were quiet and deserted, lie 
 told his wife that he was going into the old quarter of the town 
 to furtlier the Abbe's cause. Olympe was not at all jealous of 
 liis nightly absences, and she laughed heartily when he brought 
 her back some broad story. Slio preferred being left quietly to 
 herself, sipping her glass in solitude and nibbling at her cakes 
 in privacy, spending the long evenings snugly in bed, devouring 
 the old novels of a circulating-library which she had discovered 
 in the liue Cancjuoin. Trouche used to come back just mode- 
 rately under the influence of liquor, and he took off his boots 
 in the lobby so as to make no noise as he went upstairs. When 
 he had drunk too much, and recked of tobacco and brandy, his 
 wife would not let him get intobcd, but made him sleep on tl.e
 
 224 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 
 
 couch. There used, on these occasions, to be silent suppressed 
 struggles between them. He returned again and again, with 
 the obstinacy of intoxication and caught hold of the bed-clothes, 
 but he tottered and stumbled and slipped down, and in the end 
 his wife rolled him away like a mere bundle. If he began to 
 cry out, she caught hold of his throat and murmured to him, 
 as she looked him sternly in the face : 
 
 " Ovide Avill hear you. Ovide is coming." 
 
 Then he was as frightened as a child that is threatened with 
 a wolf, and he went to sleep, muttering excuses. In the 
 morning he dressed himself in a serious sedate fashion, wiped 
 away from his face all the marks of the previous night's dissipa- 
 tion, and put on a certain cravat, which, he said, gave him quite 
 tlie air of a parson. As he passed the cafes he bent his head to 
 the ground. At the Home of the Virgin he was held in great 
 respect. Now and then, when the young girls were playing in 
 the courtyard, he raised the corner of his curtain and glanced 
 at them with a paternal expression, while passing gleams glis- 
 tened in his eyes beneath the half-closed lids. 
 
 The Trouches were still kept in check by J^ladame Faujas. 
 The mother and the daughter were perpetually quarrelling with 
 each other ; Olympe complaining that she was ever being sacri- 
 ficed to her brother, and Madame Faujas treating her like a 
 viper whom she ought to have crushed to death in her cradle. 
 Both grasping after the same prey, they kept a close watch on 
 each other without ever letting it drop, angry and excited to 
 know which of them would go off with the larger share. Madame 
 Faujas wanted to claim everything in the house, and she tried 
 to keep the mere sweepings from Olympe's clutching fingers. 
 When she saw the large sums that her daughter was drawing 
 from Marthe's pocket, she was quite bursting with anger. When 
 her sou merely shrugged his shoulders like a man who despises 
 such miserable matters, and who is forced to close his eyes to 
 them, she, in her turn, had a stormy explanation with her 
 daughter, whom she branded as a thief, as though she had taken 
 the money from her own pocket. 
 
 " TherCj mother, that will do ! " Olympe cried impatiently. 
 " It isn't your purse, you know, that I have been lightening. 
 Besides, I have only been borrowing a little money; I don't 
 make other people keep me." 
 
 " What do you mean, you wicked hussy 1 " Madame Faujas 
 gasped out, quite bursting with indignation. " Do you suppose
 
 THE C(1XQTTEST OF I'LASSAN'S. ?2n 
 
 that we don't pay iur our food? Ask the eo')k, and she will shuw 
 you our acconnt-book." 
 
 Olympe l)roke out iuto a loud laugh. 
 
 " Oh, yes, that's very nice ! " sffe cried : " I know that account- 
 book of yours ! You pay for the radishes and butter, don't 
 you 1 Stay downstairs by all means, mother ; stay downstairs 
 on the uTound-floor. I don't want to interfere Avith your ar- 
 rangements. But don't you come up here and worry me any 
 more, or I shall make a I'ow, and you know that Ovide has for- 
 bidden any noise up iiere." 
 
 Madame Faujas went downstairs again muttering and growl- 
 ing. This threat of making a disturbance compelled her to 
 be:ft a retreat. Olympe began to sing jeeringly as soon as her 
 back was turned. But when she went down into the garden, 
 her mother took her revenge upon her, keeping everlastingly 
 at her heels and watching her hands, and never ceasing to play 
 the spy upon her. She would not allow her for a moment in 
 the kitchen or dining-room. She had embroiled her with Rose 
 about a sauce-pan tiiat l)ad been borrowed and never returned ; 
 but she did not dare to ;ittempt to undermine Marthe's friend- 
 ship for her for fear of causing some scandal which might be 
 prejudicial to the Abbe. 
 
 " Since you are so very regardless of your own interests," she 
 said to iier son one day, " 1 must look after them for you. 
 Miike 3'ourself quite easy ; I shall not do anything foolish. If 
 I were not here, your sister would snatch the very bread out of 
 your hands." 
 
 Marthe had no notion of the drama that was being played 
 out about her. To her the house simply seemed more lively 
 and cheerful, now that all these people thronged about the 
 lobby and the stair-case and the passages. It was as noisy as 
 an hotel, with all the suppressed sounds of quarrelling, the 
 banging of doors, the independent and free life of each of the; 
 tenants, and the flaming fii'c in the kitchen, where Rose seemed 
 to have a whole table d bote to provide for. There was a con- 
 tinual procession of tradesmen to the house. Olympe, who was 
 very particidar about her hands and i-efused to risk spoiling 
 them by washing plates and dishes, had everything sent from 
 outside, from a confectioner's in the Rue de la Hanne, who 
 served meals to the townspeople. Mart' e smiled and said she 
 enjoyed the state of bustle in which the house now was. She 
 now greatly disliked being left alone, and she felt the necessity 
 
 P
 
 226 THE CONQUEST OF TLASSANS. 
 
 of occupation of some sort to allay the fever that was consiim- 
 i!ig her. 
 
 Mouret, however, to escape from all this noise, used to shut 
 himself up in a room on the first floor, which ho called his office. 
 He had overcome his distaste for s-ilitude, and he scarcely ever 
 now went down in the garden, frequently keeping himself locked 
 up from morning till evening. 
 
 " I should very much like to know what he finds to do inside 
 there," Rose said to Madame Faujas. " One can't hear him 
 move, and you might almost fancy that he was dead. If he 
 wants to hide 'limself in that way, it must be because he isn't 
 doing anything that's right and proper; don't you think so, eh?" 
 
 Wiieu the summer came round again, the house grew still 
 livelier than before. The Abbe Faujas received the guests of 
 the sub-prefect and the president beneath the arbour at the 
 bottom of the garden. Rose, by Marthe's orders, had bought a 
 dozen rustic chairs, so that the visitors might enjoy the fresh 
 air witiiout the dining-room chairs having to be constantly dis- 
 turbed. It was now quite a regular thing for the doors leading 
 into the blind-alley to remain open every Tuesdaj- afternoon, 
 and the ladies and gentlemen came to salute the Abbe Faujas 
 like friendly neighbours, the men wearing slippers and with 
 their coats carelessly unbuttoned, and the ladies in straw hats 
 and witli their skirts looped up with pins. The visitors arrived 
 one by one, and then the two sets of guests gradually found 
 themselves all mixed up together, gossiping and amusing them- 
 selves in the most complete familiarity. 
 
 " Aren't you afraid," siid Monsieur Bourdeu to Monsieur 
 Rastoil one day, " that these meetings with the sub-prefect's 
 friends may be ill-advised? The general elections are getting 
 
 near." 
 
 " Why should they be ill-advised 1 " Monsieur Rastoil asked. 
 "We don't go to the Sub- Prefecture; we keep on neutral ground. 
 Besides, my good friend, there is no cei'emony about the matter. 
 1 keoj) my linen coat on, and it's merely a private friendly 
 visit. No one has any right to pass judgment upon what I do 
 at the back of my house. In the front, it's another matter. 
 In the front, we belong to the public. When Monsieur Pequeur 
 and I meet each other in tlie streets we merely bow." 
 
 " Monsieur Pequeur des Saulaies is a man who gains much 
 by being known," the ex-prefect ventured to say, after a short 
 silence.
 
 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 227 
 
 " Certainly, certainly," replied the president ; " I am delighted 
 to have made his acquaintance. And what a worthy man the 
 Abbe Faujas is ! No, no ; I have no fear of any calumnies 
 arising from our going to salute our excellent neighbour." 
 
 Since the general elections had begun to be the subject of 
 conversation. Monsieur de Bourdeu liiul been very uneasy ; he 
 said that it was the increasing warmth of the weather that 
 affected him. He frequently was assailed with doubts and 
 scruples, which he confided to Monsieur Rastoil, that the latter 
 might remove them and reassure him. Politics, however, were 
 never mentioned in the Mourets' garden. One afternoon. Mon- 
 sieur de Bourdeu, after having vainly tried to find some means 
 of leading up to the matter, exclaimed abruptly, addressing 
 himself to Doctor Porquier : 
 
 "Tell me, doctor, have you seen the 'Moniteur' this morning? 
 The marquis has at last spoken ! He uttered just thirteen 
 words ; I counted them. Poor Lagrifoul ! He has made him- 
 self very ridiculous ! " 
 
 The Abbe Faujas raised his finger with an arch look. " No 
 politics, gentlemen, no politics," he said. 
 
 Monsieur Pequeur des Saulaies was chatting with Monsieur 
 Rastoil, and they both affected not to have heard what was 
 said. Madame de Condamin smiled as she continued her con- 
 versation with the Abbe Sui'in. 
 
 " Aren't your surplices stiffened with a very weak solution of 
 gum, your reverence 1 " she asked. 
 
 " Yes, madame, with a weak solution of gum," the young 
 priest replied. " Some laundresses use boiled starch, but that 
 spoils the material and is worthless." 
 
 " Well," returned the young woman, " I never can get my 
 laundress to use gum for my petticoats." 
 
 So the Abbe Surin politely gave her the name and address 
 of his laundress upon the back of one of his visiting cards. 
 Then the company chatted about dress and the weatlicr and the 
 crops and tlie events of the week, and they spent a delightful 
 hour together ; and there were also games of shuttle-cock in the 
 blind-alley. The Abbo Bourrcttc frequently made his appear- 
 ance and told in his enthusiastic manner little pious stories to 
 which Monsieur Maffre listened to the end. Upon one occasion 
 only had Madame Delangre met Madame Rastoil there ; they 
 had treated cacli other with the most scrupulous politeness and 
 ceremony, while in their faded eyes there flashed the sparks of
 
 228 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 
 
 their old rivalry. Monsieur Delangre did not make bis presence 
 too cheap, and though the Paloques were constantly at the Sub- 
 Prefecture, they contrived not to be there when Monsieur 
 Pequeur des Saulaies was going to make one of his neiiilibourly 
 calls upon the Abbe Faujas. The judge's wife had been much 
 perplexed in mind since her unfortunate expedition to tlie 
 oratory at the Home of the Virgin. But the person wiio was 
 oftenest to be seen in the garden was certainly Monsieur de 
 Condamin, always wearing the most perfect fitting gloves, wb.o 
 Avent there to make fun of the company, telling libs and in- 
 delicate stories with an extraordinary coolness and unconcern, 
 and deriving a fund of amusement for the whole week from tlie 
 little intrigues which he scented out there. The tall old man, 
 with his coat fitting so closely to his slim figure, was devoted 
 to youth ; he scoffed at the " old ones," and sat apart with the 
 young ladies, and laughed gaily in the corners of the garden. 
 
 " This way, my chickens ! " he said, with a smile, " let us 
 leave the old oues together." 
 
 One day he almost defeated the Abbe Surin in a tremendous 
 struggle at shuttle-cock. He was very fond of plaguing the 
 young people, and he hod chosen Monsieur Eastoil's son as his 
 special victim, a simple young man to whom he told the most 
 prodigious stories. He had ended by accusing hmi of making 
 love to his wife, and he rolled his eyes about in such a terrible 
 way, that the wretclied Severin broke out into a perspiration 
 from very fear. The youth did, as it happened, actually fancy 
 that he was in love with Madame de Condamin, in who-^e 
 presence he behaved in a tender and simpering manner that 
 extremely amused her husband. 
 
 The Rastoil girls, for whom the conservator of rivers and 
 forests manifested all the gallantry of a young widower, were 
 also subjects of his most cruel pleasantries. Ahhough they 
 were approaching their thirtieth birthdays, he spurred them on 
 to indulge in childish games and spoke to them as though they 
 were still school girls. His great amusement was to gaze at 
 them when Lucien Delangre, the mayor's son, was present. 
 Then he would take Doctor Porquier aside, and whisper in his 
 ear, alluding to the former entanglement between Monsieur 
 Delangre and Madame Rastoil : 
 
 " There's a young man there, Porquier, who is very much 
 embarrassed in his mind — Is it Augeline or is it Aurelie who 
 is Delangre's 1 Guess^ if you can, and choose, if you dare."
 
 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 229 
 
 The Abbe Faiijas was very polite and amiable to all his 
 visitors, even to the terrible Condamin who caused so much 
 disquietude. He effaced himself as much as possible, spoke but 
 little, and allowed the two sets of guests to coalesce, seeming 
 merely to experience the quiet satisfaction of a host who is 
 happy to be the means of bringing together a num1)er of dis- 
 tinguished pcoijle wlio were intended to be on good terms with 
 each other. Marthe had upon two occasions made her appear- 
 ance, thinking that she would put the visitors more at their 
 ease by doing so ; but it distressed her to see the Abbe in the 
 midst of so many people, and she much preferred to see him 
 walking slowly and seriously in the quiet of the arbour. 
 The Trouches resumed their Tuesday watchings behind their 
 curtains, while Madame Faujas and Rose craned their heads 
 out from the door-way and admired with great delight tlie 
 graceful manner in which his reverence received the chief 
 peojjle of Plassans. 
 
 "Ah, madame !" said the cook, "it is very easy to see that 
 he is a distinguished person. Look at him bowing to the sub- 
 prefect. I admire his reverence the most ; though, indeed, the 
 sub-prefect is a fine man. Why do you never go into the 
 garden to them 1 If I were you, I would put on a silk dress 
 and join them. You are his mother, you know, after all." 
 
 But the old peasant woman shrugged her shoulders. 
 . " Oh ! he isn't ashamed of me," she said ; "but I should be 
 afraid of putting him out. I prefer watching him from here ; 
 and I enjoy it more." 
 
 " Yes, I can understand that. Ah ! you must be very proud 
 of him. He isn't a bit like Monsieur Mouret, who nailed the 
 door up, so that no one could come through it. We had never 
 a visitor, and there was never a dinner to be prepared for 
 anyone, and the garden vvas so desolate that it made one feel 
 quite frightened in the evenings. Monsieur Mouret would cer- 
 tainly never have known how to receive visitors, and he always 
 pulled a sour face if one ever happened by chance to come. 
 Don't you think, now, that ho ought to take an example from 
 his i-cvercnce? If I were he, I would come down and amuse 
 myself in the garden with the others, instead of shuttiug my- 
 self up all alone. I would take my proper ])lacc. There he is, 
 shut up in his room, as though he were afraid they Avould give 
 him the itch ! By the way, shall we go up sometime and try 
 to lind out what lie does?"
 
 2?i0 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 
 
 One Tuesday they went upstairs together. On that afternoon 
 the visitors had been very merry, and the sound of their laughter 
 floated into the house through the open windows, while a 
 tradesman, who had brought a hamper of wine for the Trouches, 
 was making a clatter on the second-floor as he collected together 
 the empty bottles. Mouret was securely locked up in hia 
 office. 
 
 " The key prevents me from seeing," said Rose, who had 
 applied her eye to the key-hole. 
 
 " Wait a moment," murmured Madame Faujas. She turned 
 the end of the key, which protruded slightly, very carefully. 
 Mouret was sitting in the middle of the room in front of a great 
 empty table, coated with a thick layer of dust. There was not 
 a single paper nor book upon it. He was lying back in his 
 chair, his arms hanging listlessly down, gazing blankly into 
 space. He sat perfectly still, without the slightest movement. 
 
 The two women looked at him in silence, one after the 
 other. 
 
 " He has made me feel cold to the very marrow," exclaimed 
 Rose, as they went downstairs again. " Did you notice his 
 eyes 1 And wdiat a state of filth the room is in ! He hasn't 
 laid a pen on that desk for a couple of months past, and I 
 thought he spent all his time there in writing. Fancy him 
 amusing himself by shutting himself up all alone like a corpse, 
 when the house is so bright and cheerful ! "
 
 231 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 Marthe's health was causing Doctor Porqnier much anxiety. 
 He still smiled in bis pleasant wa}', and talked to her after the 
 manner of a fashionable medical man for whom disease has 
 never any existence, and who grants a consultation just as a 
 dress-maker fits on a new dress ; but there was a certain twist 
 of his lip which told that " dear madame" had something more 
 seriously wrong with her than a slight spitting of blood, as ho 
 tried to persuade her. He advised her, now that the warm 
 weather had come, to get a little change of surroundings and 
 occupation by going out for drives, but taking care not to over- 
 fatigue herself. In obedience to the doctor's directions, Marthe, 
 who was becoming more and more racked with a vague indefinite 
 anguish, and a need of finding some occiipation to assuage the 
 nervous impatience which was tormenting her, began a series of 
 excursions to the neighbouring villages. Twice a week she 
 drove off, after luncheon, in an old refurbished carriage, which 
 she hired from a coachbuilder in Plassans. She genei-ally used 
 to drive some six or seven miles, so as to get back home about 
 six o'clock. Her great desire was to induce the Abbe Faujas to 
 go with her, and it was only in the hope of accomplishing this 
 that she had conformed with the doctor's directions ; but the 
 Abbe, without distinctly refusing to go with her, always 
 excused himself on the ground that he was too busy to spare 
 the time, and Marthe was obliged to content herself with the 
 companionship of Olympe or Madame Faujas. 
 
 One afternoon as she was driving with Olympe towards the 
 village of Les Tulettes, past the little estate of her uncle 
 Macquart, tlie latter caught sight of her as he was standing 
 upon his terrace, which was ornamented with two mulberry 
 trees. 
 
 " Where is Mouret?" he cried. "Why hasn't Mouret come 
 as well ? " 
 
 Marthe was obliged to stop for a moment or two to s] cak
 
 232 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 
 
 to her imcle, and to explain to liim tliat she was not well, 
 and conld not stay to dine witli him. He hud expres^scd his 
 determination to kill a fowl for the meal. 
 
 "Well," he said at last, "I will kill it all the same, and you 
 shall take it away with you." 
 
 Then he hurried off to kill the fowl at once. When he came 
 back with it, he laid it on tlie stone table in front of the house, 
 and exclaimed Avith an expression of immense satisfaction : 
 
 " Isn't it a jilump, splendid fellow ? " 
 
 When Marthe and Olympe drove up, Macquart had just been 
 about to drink a bottle of wine imder the shade of his mulbei'ry 
 trees, in company with a tall thin yoiing man, dressed entirely 
 in grey. He persuaded the two women to leave the carriage 
 and come and sit down for a time, and he brought them chairs 
 and did the honours of his house with a snigger of satisfaction. 
 
 " 1 have got a very nice little place here, haven't 1 1 My 
 miilberries are very fine ones. In the summer I smoke my pipe 
 out here in the fresh air, In the winter I sit down yonder with 
 my back to the wall in the sun. Do you see my vegetables 1 
 'J he fowl-house is at the bottom of the garden, I have another 
 strip of ground as well, behind the house, where I grow potatoes 
 and lucern. I am getting old now, worse luck, and it's quite 
 time that I should enjoy myself a little." 
 
 He rubbed his hands together and gently wagged his head, 
 as he cast an affectionate glance over his little estate. Then 
 some reflection seemed to cast a gloom over him. 
 
 "Have you seen your father lately?" he asked, abruptly. 
 " Rougon isn't a very amiable person. That corn-field over 
 yonder to the left is for sale. If he had been willing we might 
 have bought it. What would it have been to a man of his 
 means "? A jDaltry three thousand francs is all that is asked for 
 it, bvit he refuses to have anything to do with it. The last 
 time I went to see him he even made your mother tell me that 
 he wasn't at home. Well, you'll see that that will be all the 
 worse for them in the end." 
 
 He Wiigmd his head and broke out into his unpleasant laugh, 
 as he rejicated several times over. 
 
 " Yes, yes ; it will be all the worse for them." 
 
 Then he went off to get some glasses, insisting upon m.aking 
 the two women taste his wine. It was that liglit wine which 
 he had discoA'orcd at Saint-Eutrope, and in which he took a 
 great pride. Marthe scarcely wetted her lips, Imt Olympe
 
 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSAXS. 2".", 
 
 finished the bottle. Then she accc})ted a glass of syrup, saying 
 that the wine was very strong. 
 
 "And what have you dune with your priest?" the uncle 
 asked quite suddenly of his niece. 
 
 Marthe looked at him in surprise and displeasure without 
 making any reply. 
 
 "I heard that he was sponging on you tremendously," her 
 nncle continued loudly. " These priests are fond of good living. 
 When I heard abuut him, I said that it served Mouret quite 
 right. I warned him. Well, I shall be glad to help you to 
 turn him out of the house. Mouret has only got to come and 
 ask me, and I will give him a helping hand. I've never been 
 able to endure those fellows. I know one of them, the Abbe 
 Fenil, who has a house on the other side of the road. He is no 
 better than the rest of them, but he is as malicious as an ape, 
 and he amuses me. I fancy he does not get on very well with 
 that priest of yours ; isn't that so, eh 1 " 
 
 Marthe had turned very pale. 
 
 "Madame here is the sister of his reverence the AbbeFaujas," 
 she said, turning to Olympe, who was listening with much 
 curiosity. 
 
 " What I said has no reference to madame," Macquart re- 
 plied quite unconcernedly. "Madame, I am sure, is not 
 offended. She will take another glass of syrup 1 " 
 
 Olympe accepted another glass of the syrup, but Marthe rose 
 from the seat and wanted to leave. Her uncle, however, 
 insisted upon taking her over his grounds. At the end of the 
 garden she stopped to look at a great white house that was 
 built en the slope of the hill, a few hundred yards from Les 
 Tulettes. Its inner courts looked like prison-yards, and the 
 narrow symmetrical windows which streaked the front with 
 their black linos gave to the main building the cheerless, naked 
 look of a hospital. 
 
 "That is the Lunatic Asylum," cried Macquart, who had 
 followed the direction of Marthe's eyes. "The young man here 
 is one of the wardcr.s. We get on very well together, and he 
 comes every now and then to have a bottle of wine with me." 
 
 Then, turnhig towards the man in grey, who was finishing 
 his ghiss beneath the mulberry tree, he called out : 
 
 " Here, Alexandre, come ana show my niece which is our 
 poor old woman's window-." 
 
 Alexandre came politely up t(< tliem.
 
 234 THE CONQUEST OF TLASSANS. 
 
 "Do yon see those three trees 1" he said, stretching out his 
 finger, as though he were drawing a plan in the air. " Well, a 
 little below the one to the left, you can see a fountain in the 
 corner of a court-yard. Follow the windows on the ground floor 
 to the right ; it is the fifth one." 
 
 Marthe stood in silence with blanched lips and her eyes fixed, 
 in spite of herself, on the window which was pointed out to 
 her. Uncle Macquart was looking at it as well, but with a 
 complaisance which manifested itself in his blinking eyes. 
 
 "I see her sometimes of a morning," he said, "when the 
 sun is on the other side. She keeps very well, doesn't she, 
 Alexandre] I always tell them so when I go to Plassans. I 
 am very well placed here to keep a watch upon her. I couldn't 
 be anywhere better." 
 
 He broke out into his snigger of satisfaction. 
 
 " The Rougons, you know, my dear, have got no stronger 
 heads than the Macquarts, and I often tell myself, as I sit out 
 here in front of that big house, that all the lot will, perhaps, 
 join the mother there some day. Thank Heaven, I've no fear 
 about myself. My noddle is firmly fixed on. But I know some 
 of them who are a little shaky. Well, I shall be here to 
 receive them, and I shall see them from my den, and I will 
 recommend them to Alexandre's kind attention, though they 
 haven't all of them always been particularly kind to me." 
 
 Then with that hideous smile of his that was like a captive 
 wolf's, he added : 
 
 " It's very lucky for you all that I am here on the spot at 
 Les Tulettes." 
 
 Marthe could not help trembling all over. Though she was 
 well aware of her uncle's taste for savage pleasantries, and the 
 pleasure he took in torturing the people to whom he presented 
 his rabbits, she could not help fancying that he was perhaps 
 speaking the truth, and that all the rest of the family would 
 indeed come and take up their quarters in those gloomy tiers of 
 cells. She insisted upon taking her immediate departure in 
 spite of the pressing entreaties of Macquart, who wanted to open 
 another bottle of wine. 
 
 " Ah ! where is the fowl 1 " he cried, just as she was getting 
 into the carriage. 
 
 He went back to find it, and he brought it and placed it 
 upon her knees. 
 
 " It is for Mouretj you understand," he said, with a malicious
 
 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 235 
 
 expression ; " for IMouret, and for no one else. "When I come 
 to see you, I will ask him how he liked it." 
 
 He winked his eyes as he glanced at Olympe. The coach- 
 man was just going to whip his horse forward, when Macquart 
 laid hold of the carriage again, and said : 
 
 " Go and see your father and talk to him about the corn-field. 
 See, it is that field just in front of us. Rougon is making a 
 mistake. We are too old friends to quarrel about the matter ; 
 besides, as he very well know^s, it would be worse for him, if we 
 did. Let him understand that he is makhig a mistake." 
 
 The carriage set off", and as Olympe turned round she saw 
 Macquart grinning under his mulberry trees with Alexandre, 
 and uncorking that second bottle of which he had spoken. 
 ^Marthe gave the coachman strict orders that he was not to take 
 her to Les Tulettes again. She was beginning to feel a little 
 weary and tired of these drives into the country, and she took 
 them less frequently, and at last gave them up altogether, 
 when she found that she could never prevail upon the Abbe 
 Faujas to accompany her. 
 
 Marthe was undergoing a complete change ; she was becom- 
 ing quite another woman. She had grown much more refined 
 from the life of nervous excitement which she had been leading. 
 Her stolid heaviness and dulllifelessness which she had acquired 
 from fifteen years spent behind a counter in Marseilles seemed 
 to melt away in the bright flame of her devotion. She dressed 
 herself better than she had been used to do, and she joined 
 in the conversation when she went to the Rougons' on Thurs- 
 days. 
 
 " Madame Mouret is growing into quite a yoiuig girl again," 
 exclaimed Madame dc Condamin in amazement. 
 
 " Yes, indeed," replied Doctor Porcpiier, nodding his head : 
 "she is going through life backwards." 
 
 Marthe, now grown much slimmer, with rosy cheeks and 
 magnificent black flashing eyes, burst out for some months into 
 singular beauty. Her face beamed with animation, and an 
 extraordinary out-pouring of vitality seemed to be flooding her 
 whole being and thrilling her with vibrating warmth. Her 
 forgotten and imenjoyed youth appeared to be blazing in her 
 now, at forty years of age, with brilliant splendour. She was 
 overwhelmed with a perpetual need and craving for prayer 
 and devotion, and she no longer obeyed the Abbd Faujas's 
 instructions. Slie wore out her knees upon the flag-stones at
 
 23r. THE CONQUEST OF TLASSANS. 
 
 Saint-Saturnin's, lived in the midst of canticles and offering-s 
 of praise and woisbip, and tonk a sweet comfort to herself in 
 the presence of gleaming monsti^ances and brightly lit chapels, 
 and priests and altars that glittered with star-like sheen through 
 the dark gloom of the cathedral-nave. She was possessed of 
 a sort of physical craving for these glories, a craving which 
 tortured her and racked her until she satisfied it. She was 
 compelled by her very suffering — she would have died if she 
 had not yielded — to give her passion somethJng on which to 
 feed, to come and prostrate herself humbly in confession, to 
 bow in lowly awe amidst the thrilling peals of the organ, and to 
 faint with melting joy in the ecstasy of communion. Then 
 all consciousness of trouble left her, her body no longer tortured 
 her, and she bowed herself to the ground in a painless trance, 
 etherealized, as it were, into a pure, imsullied flame of self-con- 
 euming love. 
 
 The Abbe Faujas redoubled the severity of his demeanour 
 towards her and tried to check her by the rudeness of his 
 mannei". He was amazed at this passionate awakening of 
 Marthe's soul, at this ardent love of hers which was wearing 
 her away. He frequently questioned her again on the subject 
 of her childhood, and he went to see Madame Rougon, and 
 remained for a long time in a state of great perplexity and dis- 
 satisfaction. 
 
 "Our landlady has been complaining of you," his mother 
 said to him. " Why won't you allow her to go to church when- 
 ever she likes 1 It is unkind of you to vex her ; she is very 
 good to us." 
 
 " She is killing herself," the priest said. 
 
 Madame Faujas shrugged her shoulders after her habitual 
 manner. 
 
 " That is her own business. We have all our ways of finding 
 pleasure. It is better to die of praying than to give one's 
 self indigestions like that hussy Olympe. Don't be so severe 
 with Madame Mourot. You will end by making it impossible 
 for us to go on living here." 
 
 One day when she was advising him in this way, he exclaimed 
 in a gloomy voice : 
 
 " Mother, th s woman will be the obstacle ! " 
 
 " She ! " cried the old peasant woman, " why, she worships 
 you, Ovide ! You may do anything you like with her, if you 
 will only treat her a little more kindly. She would carry you
 
 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 'J:<7 
 
 from here to the cathedral if it rained, to prevent your wetting 
 your feet, if you would let lier ! " 
 
 The Abbe Faujas himself at last began to understand the 
 necessity of no longer treating Martha with harsh rudeness. 
 He began to fear an outburst. He gradually allowed her 
 greater liberty, permitted her to seclude herself, to make long 
 courses of devotion and to offer prayers at each of the Stations 
 of the Cross, and he even gave her permission to come twice a 
 week to his confessional at Saint-Saturnin's. Marthe, now no 
 longer thrilled by that terrible voice which seemed to impute 
 her piety to her as a vice for which she soiight a shameful 
 satisfaction, believed that God had pardoned her and poured 
 out His grace upon her. Now at last she thought she was 
 entering upon all the joys of Paradise. She was overwhelmed 
 with trances of sweet emotion^ with inexhaustible floods of 
 tears, which she shed without being conscious of their flow, and 
 with nervous ecstasies from which she recovered weak and faint 
 as thougli all her life-blood had evaporated from her veins. At 
 these times, Kose would take her and lay her upon her bed, 
 where she would lie for hours with the pinched lips and half- 
 closed eyes of a dead woman. 
 
 One afternoon the cook, alarmed at her state of perfect 
 motionlessness, was afraid that she was dead. She never 
 thought of knocking at the door of the room where Mouret had 
 shut himself up, but she went straight to the second floor and 
 besought the Abbe Faujas to come down to her misti'ess. 
 When he reached Marthe's bed-room, Rose hastened oft" to find 
 some ethex', leaving the priest alone with the swooning woman 
 lying across her bed. He merely took her hands witiiin his 
 own. Then Marthe began to move about and talk incoherently. 
 Wlieu at last she recognised him standing by her bedside, a 
 crimson tide of blood surged to her face, and she turned her 
 head round on the pillow and made a movement with her 
 hands as though she were trying to cover herself with the bed- 
 clothes. 
 
 " Are you feeling better, my dear child ? " he asked her. 
 " You are making me very uneasy." 
 
 Her throat was too much choked for her to be able to reply 
 to him, and she burst into tears, as she let her head slip 
 between the priest's arm. 
 
 " I am not ill," she murmured in a voice so feeble that it 
 was scarcely raoi-e than a breath ; " I am too ha2>py. Let nie
 
 238 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 
 
 cry ; I feel a joy in my tears. How kind of yon to have come ! 
 I have been expecting you and calling for you for a long time." 
 
 Her voice grew weaker and weaker ; it was nothing more 
 than a mere murmur of ardent prayer. 
 
 " Oh ! who will give me wings to fly towards thee 1 My 
 soul, separated from thee and impatient to be filled with thee, 
 languishes without thee, longs for thee passionately and 
 sighs for thee, my God, my only good thing, my consolation, 
 my sweet joy, my treasure, my happiness and my life, my God 
 and my all — " 
 
 Her face broke into a smile as she breathed out these words 
 of longing love, and she clasped her hands together as she 
 fancied she saw the Abbe Faujas's grave face circled by an 
 aureole. The priest had hitherto always succeeded in checking 
 a confession of this sort on Marthe's lips ; he felt alarmed for 
 a moment and hastily withdrew his arms. Then, standing 
 quite upright, he said authoritatively : 
 
 "Be calm and reasonable ; I desire you to be so. God will 
 refuse your homage if you do not offer it to him in calm reason. 
 What presses most now is to I'estore your strength." 
 
 Rose returned to the room, quite distracted at not being 
 able to find the ether. The priest told her to remain by the 
 bed-side, while he said to Marthe in gentle tones : 
 
 " Don't distress yourself. God will be touched by your love. 
 When the proper time comes, he will come down into you and 
 fill you with an everlasting felicity." 
 
 Then he quitted the room, leaving Marthe quite radiant 
 and like one raised from the dead. From this day he was able 
 to mould her like soft wax beneath his touch. She became 
 extremely useful to him in certain delicate missions to Madame 
 de Condamin, and she frequently visited Madame Rastoil upon 
 his merely expressing a desire that she should do so. She 
 rendered him an absolute obedience, never seeking the reason 
 of anything he told her to do, and saying just what he in- 
 structed her to say. He no longer observed any precaution 
 towards her, but bluntly taught her her lessons and made use of 
 her as though she were a mere machine. She would have begged 
 in the streets if he had ordered her to do so. When she 
 became restless and disturbed and stretched out her hands to 
 him, with bursting heart and lips swollen with passion, he sup- 
 pressed her with a single word, and crushed her to the ground 
 beneath the will of heaven. She never dared to make any
 
 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 239 
 
 reply. Between her and the priest there -was a wall of auger 
 and scorn. When the Abbe Faujas came away from one of the 
 short struggles he used occasionally to have with her, he 
 shrugged his shoulders with the disdain of a strong wrestler 
 who hns been opposed by a child ; and he washed and brushed 
 himself as though he had involuntarily touched some unclean 
 animal. 
 
 " Why don't you use those dozen handkerchiefs that Madame 
 Mo\iret gave you 1 " his mother asked him once. " It would 
 please the poor womau so much to see them in your hands. 
 Slie spent a whole month in working your initials upon them." 
 
 "Use them yourself, mother," he replied with a rough 
 gesture. " They are women's handkerchiefs, and there is an 
 odour about them which is intolerable to me." 
 
 Though Marthe was so pliant in the hands of the priest and 
 was nothing but a mere chattel for him, she grew sourer and 
 more querulous every day amidst all the little cares of house- 
 hold life. Rose said that she had never before known her 
 to be so fractious. It was against her husband that she 
 specially manifested an increasing bitterness and dislike. The 
 old leaven of the Rougons' rancour was waking up into 
 activity in the presence of this son of a Macquart, of this man 
 whom she accused of being the torture of her life. When 
 Madame Faujas or Olympe came downstairs to sit with her in 
 the dining-room, she no longer observed any reticence but gave 
 full vent to her bitterness against Mouret. 
 
 " For twenty years he kept me shut up like a mere clerk, 
 with a pen behind my ear, between his jars of oil and bags of 
 almonds ! He never allowed me a pleasure or gave me a 
 present. He has robbed me of my children ; and he is quite 
 capable of taking himself off any day to make people believe 
 that I have made his life unendurable to him. It is very 
 fortunate that you are here and can tell the truth." 
 
 She fell foul of Mouret in this way without his having given 
 any provocation. Everything that he did, his looks, his 
 gestures, the few words he uttered, all seemed to put her be- 
 side herself. She could not even see him without being carried 
 away by an unreasoning anger. It was at the close of their 
 meals, when Mouret, without waiting for the dessert, folded his 
 napkin and silently rose from the table, that quarrels more 
 especially occurred. 
 
 "You mii'ht leave the table at tiie same time as other
 
 240 THK CONQUEST OF PLAS8ANS. 
 
 people," Miirtlie would say bitterly ; " it is not very polite of 
 you to behave in that way." 
 
 " I have finished, and I am going away," Monret replied in 
 his slow tones. 
 
 Marthe began to imagine in this daily retreat of her husband 
 from the table an intentional slight to the Abbe Faujas, and 
 then she lost all control over herself. 
 
 " You are a perfect boor, and you make me feel quite 
 ashamed ! " she cried. " I should have a nice time of it with 
 you if I had not been fortunate enough to make some friends 
 who console me for all your boorish ways ! You don't even 
 know how to behave yourself at table and you prevent me 
 from enjoying a single meal. Stay where you are, do you 
 hear ! If you don't want to eat any more, you can look at us." 
 He finished folding his napkin perfectly calmly as though he 
 had not heard a word of what his wife had Ijeen saying, and 
 then, with slow and deliberate steps, he left the room. They 
 could hear him go upstairs and lock himself in his office. Tlieu 
 Marthe, choking with anger, burst out : 
 
 " Oh, the monster ! He is killing me ; he is killing me ! " 
 Madame Faujas was obliged to console her and soothe her. 
 Rose ran to the foot of the stairs and called out at the top 
 of her voice, so that Moui-et might hear her thiougli the closed 
 door : 
 
 " You are a monster, sir ! Madame is quite right to call you 
 a monster ! " 
 
 Some of their quarrels were especially violent. Marthe, whose 
 reason was on the verge of giving way, had got it into her head 
 that her husband wanted to beat her. It was a fixed idea of 
 hers. She asserted that he was only waiting and watching for 
 an opportunity. He had not dared to do it yet, she said, be- 
 cause he never found her alone, and in the night-time he was 
 afraid lest she should cry out for assistance. Rose swore that 
 she had seen her master hiding a thick stick in his office. 
 Madame Faujas and Olympe showed no hesitation in believing 
 these stories, and they expressed the greatest pity for their 
 landlady, and they discussed her troubles and constituted them- 
 selves her protectors. " That brute," as they now called Mouret, 
 would not venture, they said, to ill-treat her in their presence ; 
 and they told her to come for them at night if he showed the 
 least sign of violence. The house was now iu a constant state 
 of alarm.
 
 THE CONQUEST OF I'LASSAXS. 241 
 
 " He is capable of any -wickedness," the cook exclaimed. 
 
 This year Marthe observed all the religious ceremonies of 
 Passion Week with the greatest fervour. On Good Friday she 
 agonized in the black-draped church, while the candles were 
 extinguished, one by one, amidst the mournful swell of voices 
 which rose through the gloom-shrouded nave. It seemed to her 
 as though her own breath was dying away with the ligiit of the 
 candles. When the last one went out, and the black giouni in 
 front of her seemed implacable and repelling, she fainted away. 
 For an hour she remained bent in an attitude of prayer without 
 the women who were kneeling around her being aware of the 
 state in which she was. When she returned to herself, th^ 
 church was deserted. She imagined that she was being agourged 
 with twigs and that the blood was streaming from her limbs ; 
 and she experienced such excruciating pains in her head that 
 she raised her hands to it, as if to pull out the thorns whose 
 points she felt piercing her skull. She was in a strange condi- 
 tion at dinner that evening. She was still suffering from ner- 
 vous excitement; when she closed her eyes, she saw the 
 souls of the expiring candles flitting away through the darkness, 
 and she examined her hands mechanically, looking for the 
 wounds from which her blood had streamed. All the Passion 
 was bleeding in her. 
 
 Madame Faujas, seeing her so unwell, persuaded her to go to 
 rest eaidy, and she accompanied her to her room and put her to 
 bed. Mouret, who had a key of the bedroom, had already re- 
 tired to his office, where he spent his evenings. When Marthe, 
 covered up to her chin with the blankets, said she was quite 
 warm and was feeling better, Madame Faujas was going to blow 
 out the candle that she might be better able to sleep ; but 
 Madame Mouret sprang up in fear and cried out beseechingly : 
 
 " No ! no ! don't put out the light ! Put it on the drawers 
 so that I can see it. 1 should die if I were left in the di^rk ! " 
 
 Then, with her eyes staring widely, and trembling as though 
 at the recollection of some dreadful tragedy, she murmured in 
 lower tones of terrified pity : 
 
 " Oh, it is horrible ! it is horrible ! " 
 
 She fell back upon the pillow and seemed to drop asleep, and 
 then Madame Faujas silently left the room. This evening all 
 the house was in bed by ten o'clock. As Rose went upstairs, 
 she noticed that Mouret was still in his office. She looked 
 through the key-hole and saw him lying asleep, with his head 
 
 9
 
 242 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 
 
 upon the t.able, with a kitclien-caiidle smoking dismally by his 
 side. 
 
 " Well, I won't wake him," she said to herself as she con- 
 tinued her journey upstairs. "Let him get a stiff neck, if he 
 likes to." 
 
 About midnight, when the whole house was wrapped in sleep, 
 cries were heard proceeding from the first floor. At first they 
 were dull wails, but they soon grew into loud shrieks, like the 
 hoarse and choking calls for aid of one who is being murdered. 
 Tiie .Abbe Faujas, awaking with a start, called out to his mother, 
 who scarcely gave hei'self time to slip on a petticoat before going 
 to knock at Rose's door and crying out : 
 
 " Come down immediately ! I'm afraid Madame Mouret is 
 being murdered." 
 
 The screams rose louder than ever. The whole house was 
 quickly stirring. Olympe made her appearance with her 
 shoulders simply covered with a neckerchief, followed by 
 Trouche, who had only a very short time before returned home, 
 slightly intoxicated. Rose hastened down the stairs, followed 
 by the lodgers. 
 
 " Open the door, madame, open the door ! " she cried ex- 
 citedly, hammering with her fist upon Madame Mouret's door. 
 
 Deep sighs were the only answer returned ; then there was 
 the sound of a body falling, and a terrible struggle seemed to 
 be goinof on on the floor in the midst of overturned furniture. 
 The walls shook with heavy blows, and a sound like a death- 
 rattle passed under the door, so terrible that the Faujases and 
 the Trouches turned pale as they looked at each other. 
 
 "Her husband is miu'dering her," Olympe murmured. 
 
 " Yes, you are right ; the brute is killing her," said the cook. 
 " I saw him pretending to be asleep as I came up to bed. He 
 was planning it all then." 
 
 Then she began to thunder again upon the door with her two 
 fists, almost heavily enough to break it. 
 
 " Open the door, sir ! We shall go for the police if you don't. 
 Oh, the scoundrel ! he will end his days on the scaffold ! " 
 
 Then the groans and cries began again. Trouche said that 
 the blackguard must be bleeding the poor lady like a fowl. 
 
 " We must do something more than knock at the door," said 
 the Abbe Faujas, coming forward. " Wait a moment." 
 
 He put one of his broad shoulders against the door and forced 
 it open with a slow continued eff'ort. The women rushed into
 
 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 243 
 
 the room where the most extraordinary spectacle met their 
 eyes. 
 
 Marthe was lying panting on the middle of the floor, her 
 night-dress torn and her flesh bleeding from scratches and grazes 
 and discoloured with blows. Her dishevelled hair was twisted 
 round the leg of a chair, and her hands had so firmly gripped 
 the chest of drawers, that it was pulled out of its place and was 
 now in front of the door. Mouret was standing in a corner, 
 holding the candle and gazing at his wife writhing on the floor 
 with an expression of stupefaction on his face. 
 
 The Abbe Faujas had to push away the chest of drawers. 
 
 " You are a monster ! " cried Rose, rushing up to Mouret 
 and shaking her fist at him. " To treat a woman like this ! 
 He would have killed her, if we hadn't got here in time to 
 prevent him." 
 
 Madame Faujas and Olympe bent down over Marthe. 
 
 " Poor dear ! " said the former. " She had a presentiment 
 of something this evening and she was quite frightened." 
 
 " Where are you hurt ? " Olympe asked. " There is nothing 
 broken, is there 1 Look at her shoulder, it's quite black ; and 
 iier knee is dreadfully grazed. Make yourself easy; we are 
 with you, and we will protect you." 
 
 Marthe was now only wailing like a child. While the two 
 women were examining her, forgetting that there were men in 
 the room, Trouche craned his head forward and cast leering 
 glances at the Abbe, who was quietly putting the furniture in 
 order. Rose helped Madame Faujas and Olympe to put 
 Marthe back to bed, and when they had done so and had 
 knotted up her hair, they all lingered for a moment, looking 
 curiously round the room and waiting for explanations. Mouret 
 was still standing in the same comer holding the candle, and 
 looking as though he were quite petrified by what he had seen. 
 
 " I assTire you," he said, " that I haven't hurt her ; I haven't 
 touched her with the tip of my finger." 
 
 " You've been waiting for your opportunity this month 
 past," cried Rose furiouslv; "we all know that well enough ; 
 we have watched you. The dear lady was quite expecting 
 your brutality. Don't tell lies about it ; that puts me quite 
 beside myself ! " 
 
 The two other women cast threatening glances upon him, 
 though they did not feel themselves authorized to speak to 
 him in the same way as Rose had done.
 
 244 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 
 
 "I assure you," repeated Mouret in a gentle voice, "that I have 
 not struck her. I was just going to get into bed, and the 
 moment I touched the candle, which was standing on the 
 drawers, she awoke with a start and stretched out her arms 
 with a cry, and then she began to beat her forehead with her 
 fists and to tear her flesh with her nails." 
 
 The cook shook her head with a terrible expression. 
 
 " Wliy didn't you open the door 1 " she cried ; " we knocked 
 loud enough." 
 
 " I assure you that I have done nothing," he reiterated still 
 more gently than before. " 1 could n^t tell what was the 
 matter with her. She threw herself on to the floor and bit her- 
 self and leapt about so violently as to almost break the furni- 
 ture. I did not dare to go near her ; I was quite overcome. 
 I cried out to you twice to come in, but she was screaming so 
 loudly that she must have prevented you from hearing me. I 
 was in a terrible fright. But I have doue nothing, I assure 
 you." 
 
 " Oh yes ! She's been beating herself, hasn't she ? " jeered 
 Rose. 
 
 Then, addressing hei-self to Madame Faujas, she added : 
 
 " He threw his stick out of the window, I've no doubt, when 
 he heard us coming." 
 
 Mouret at last put the candle back upon the chest of drawers 
 and seated himself on a chair, placing his hands upon his knees. 
 He made no further attempt to defend himself, and he gazed 
 with an air of stupefaction at the half-dressed women who were 
 shaking their skinny arms in front of the bed. Trouche had 
 exchanged a glance with the Abbe Faujas. The poor fellow 
 had not a very ferocious appearance as he sat there in his 
 night-dress, with a yellow handkerchief tied round his bald h ad. 
 They all closed round the bed and looked at Marthe, who, with 
 her contorted face, seemed to be waking up from a dream. 
 
 "What is the matter. Rose?" she asked. "What are all 
 these people doing here 1 I am quite broken down and ex- 
 hausted. Ask them, I beg you, to leave me in peace." 
 
 Rose hesitated for a moment. 
 
 " Your husband is in the room, madame," she said at last. 
 " Aren't you afraid to remain alone with him?" 
 
 Marthe looked at her with astonishment. 
 
 " No, no; not at all," she replied. ''Go away ; I am very 
 sleepy."
 
 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 245 
 
 Then the five people quitted the room, leaving Mouret sitting 
 on the chair, staring blankly towards the bed. 
 
 "He won't be able to fasten the door again," the cook ex- 
 claimed as she went back upstairs. " At the \evy first sound I 
 shall fly down and be at him. I shall go to bed with my 
 things on. Did you hear what stories the dear lady told to 
 prevent his appearing such a brute? She would let herself 
 be murdered before she would accuse him. What a hypocritical 
 face he has got, hasn't he 1 " 
 
 The three women stood talking for a few moments on the 
 landing of the second floor, holding their candlesticks in their 
 hands and showing the scrao-giness of their bodies beneath 
 their scanty covering. They declared that no punishment was 
 severe enough for such a man. Trouche, who had come up last, 
 sniggered out behiiad the Abbe Faujas : 
 
 "She is still very plump is our landlady, but it can't be very 
 pleasant to have a wife who wriggles on the floor like a worm. " 
 
 Then they separated. The house resumed its former quietness, 
 and the remainder of the night passed away peacefully. The next 
 morning, when the three women eagerly referred to the terrible 
 scene, they found Mai'the nervous, and apparently shamefaced 
 and confused. She made no replies to them and cvit tlie 
 conversation short. She waited till she was alone before she 
 went for a workman to come and mend the door. Madame 
 Faujas and Olympe came to the conclusion that Madame 
 ^louret's I'eticcnce was caused by her desire to prevent a scandal. 
 
 The next day, Easter Day, Marthe tasted at Saint-Satuniin's 
 the sweetness of an ardent awaking of her soul in the 
 triumphant joys of the resurrection. The gloom of Good 
 Friday was swept away by the brightness of Easter. The 
 church was decked in white, and was full of perfume and light 
 as tliough it were made ready for the celebration of some 
 divine nuptials. The voices of the choir-boys poured out their 
 flute-like melody, and Marthe, in the midst of all the joyful 
 praise, felt herself excited by joy even more thrilling and over- 
 whelming than her agony at the crucifixion. She returned 
 liome with glistening eyes and liot dry tongue, and she sat up 
 late, talking with a gaiety that was unusual in her. When 
 at last she went upstairs Mouret was ah'cady in bed. About 
 midniglit, terriljle cries again cclioed tln-ough the house. 
 
 Tlie scenj3 of two days before was repeated ; only on this 
 occasion, at the first knock at the door, Mo^^ret, in bis night-
 
 246 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 
 
 dress and with distracted face, at once came and opened it. 
 Marthc, completely dressed, was lying on her stomach, sobbiug 
 violently and beating her head against the foot of the bed. The 
 bodice of her dress looked as though it had been torn open, 
 and there were two bruises on her naked throat. 
 
 "He has tried to strangle her this time ! " Rose exclaimed. 
 
 The women undressed her. Mouret, after he had opened 
 the door, had got back into bed, trembling all over and as 
 pale as a sheet. He made no attempt to defend himself and 
 did not even appear to hear the indignant remarks that were 
 made about him, but he simply covered himself up and lay 
 close to the wall. Similar scenes now took place at irregular 
 intervals. The house lived in a state of fear of a crime being 
 committed; and, at the slightest noise, the occupants of the 
 second-floor were astir. Marthe still avoided all allusions to 
 the matter, and she absolutely forbade Rose to prepare a 
 folding bed for Mouret in his office. When the morning came, 
 it seemed to take away from her the very recollection of the 
 scene of the night. 
 
 However, it gradually became bruited about in the neighbour- 
 hood that strange things were happening at the Mourets'. It 
 was reported that the husband belaboured his wife every night 
 with a bludgeon. Rose had made Madame Faujas and Olympe 
 swear that they would say nothing about the subject, as her 
 mistress seemed to wish to keep silence upon it ; but she herself, 
 by her expressions of pity and her allusions and reservations 
 had materially contributed to setting afloat amongst the trades- 
 men the stories that were now being circulated. The butchei', 
 who was a great joker, asserted that Mouret had thrashed his 
 wife because he had found her with the priest, but the green- 
 grocer's wife defended "the poor lady," who was, she declared, 
 an innocent lamb who was quite incapable of doing wrong. 
 The baker's wife considered that Mouret was one of those men 
 who ill-treat their wives for mere 2:)leasure and amusement. 
 In the market-place people raised their eyes to heaven when 
 they spoke of her, and they referred to her in the same terms 
 of caressing endearment that they would have used in speaking 
 of a sick child. When Olympe went to buy a pound of cherries 
 or a basket of strawberries, the conversation inevitably turned 
 upon the Mourets, and for a quarter of an hour there was 
 nothing but a stream of sympathetic words. 
 
 " Well, and how are things getting on in your house 1 "
 
 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 217 
 
 " Oh, dou't speak of it ! She is weeping her life away. It is 
 most pitiable. One could almost wish to see her die." 
 
 " She came to buy some anchovies the other day, and I 
 noticed that one of her cheeks was torn." 
 
 " Oh yes ! he nearly kills her ! If you could only see her 
 body as I have seen it ! It is nothing but one big sore. When 
 she is down on the ground he kicks her with his heels. I am 
 in constant fear of finding that he has split her head open 
 during the night when we come down in the morning." 
 
 *' It must be very unpleasant for you, living in such a house. 
 I should go somewhere else, if I were in your place. It would 
 make me quite ill to be mixed up with such horrors every 
 night." 
 
 "But what would become of the poor woman] She is so 
 refined and gentle ! We stay on for her sake — five sous, isn't 
 it, tliis pound of cherries 1 " 
 
 " Yes ; five sous. Well it's very faithful of you, and you 
 show a kind heart." 
 
 This story of a husband who waited till midnight to fall upon 
 his wife with a bludgeon, excited the greatest interest amongst 
 the gossips of the market-place. It received terrrible addi- 
 tional details every day. One pious woman asserted that 
 Mouret was possessed by an evil spirit, and that he seized his 
 wife by the neck with his teeth with such violence that the 
 Abbe Faujas was obliged to make the sign of the cross three 
 times in the air with his left thumb before he could be made to 
 let go his hold. Then, she added, Mouret fell to the ground 
 like a great lump, and a huge black rat sprung out of his mouth 
 and vanished, though not the slightest hole could be discovered 
 in the flooring. The tripe-seller at the corner of the Rue 
 Taravelle terrified the neighbourhood by promulgating the tlieory 
 that " the scoundrel had perhaps been bitten by a mad dog." 
 
 The story, however, was not credited among the higher 
 classes of the inhabitants of Plassans. When it was mooted 
 about the Cours Sauvaire it afforded the retired traders much 
 amusement, as they sat in rows upon the seats, basking in the 
 wai-m May sun. 
 
 " Mouret is quite incapable of beating his wife," said the re- 
 tired almonrl-doaler ; "ho looks as though he had had a 
 whipping himself, and he no longer even comes out for a turn 
 on the promenade. His wife must be keeping him on dry bread." 
 
 " One can never tell," said a retired captain ; " I knew au
 
 248 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 
 
 officer in my regiment whose wife used to box his ears for a 
 mere yes or no. That went on for ten years. Then one day she 
 took it into her head to kick him ; that made him quite furious 
 and he nearly strangled her. Perhaps Mouret has the same 
 dislike to being kicked as my friend had." 
 
 "He has probably a still greater dislike to priests," said 
 another of the company with a snigger. ' 
 
 For some time Madame Rougon appeared quite unconscious of 
 the scandal w'hich was occupying the attention of the town. 
 She preserved a smiling face and ignored the allusions which 
 were made before her. One day, however, after a long visit 
 from Monsieur Delangre, she arrived at her daughter's house 
 with an expression of great distress and her eyes filled with 
 tears. 
 
 " Ah, my dear ! " she cried, clasping Marthe in her arms, 
 " what is this that I have just heard 'i Can your husband really 
 have so far forgotten himself as to have raised his hand against 
 you ? It is all a pack of falsehoods, isn't it ] I have given it 
 the strongest denial. I know Mouret. He has been badly 
 brought-up, but he is not a Avicked man." 
 
 Marthe blushed. She felt that embarrassment and shame- 
 faced confusion which she experienced every time this subject 
 was alluded to in her presence. 
 
 "Ahlmadame Avill never complain!" cried Rose with her 
 customary boldness. " I should have come and informed you a 
 long time ago if I had not been afraid of madame being angry 
 with me." 
 
 The old lady let her hands fall with an expression of extreme 
 and shocked surprise. 
 
 "It is really true, then," she exclaimed, "that he beats you? 
 Oh, the wretch ! the wretch ! " 
 
 Then she began to cry. 
 
 " For me to have lived to my age to see such things ! A 
 man that we have overwhelmed with kindnesses ever since his 
 father's death, when he was only a little clerk with us ! It 
 was Roiigon who desired your marriage. I told him more 
 than once Mouret looked like a scoundrel. He has never 
 treated us well ; and he ordy retired to Plassans for the sake of 
 ■^^tting us at defiance with the few sous he has got together. 
 Thank heaven, we stand in no need of him ; we are richer than 
 he is, and it is that that annpys him. He is very mean- 
 spirited, and he is so jealous that he has always refused to set
 
 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 249 
 
 foot in my drawing-room. He knows he would burst with envy. 
 But I won't leave you in the power of such a monster, my dear. 
 There are laws, liappily." 
 
 " Oh don't be uneasy ! There has been very much exaggera- 
 tion I can assure you," said Marthe, who was growing more and 
 more ill at ease. 
 
 " You see that she is trying to defend him ! " cried the 
 cook. 
 
 At this moment, the Abbe Faujas and Trouche, who were 
 in deep consultation at the bottom of the garden, came up, 
 attracted by the sound of the voices. 
 
 " I am a most unhappy mothoi*, your reverence," said 
 Madame Rougon piteously. " My daughter is no longer under 
 my protection and I hear that she is weeping her eyes out 
 from ill-treatment. I beg of you, who live in the same house, 
 to protect and console her." 
 
 The Abbe fixed his eyes upon her, as though he were trying 
 to find the key to this sudden manifestation of distress. 
 
 " I have just seen some one whom I had rather not name," 
 she continued, returning the Abbe's gaze. " This person has 
 quite alarmed me. God knows that I don't want to do any- 
 thing to injure my son-in-law ! But it is my duty — is it not 1 
 — to defend my daughter's interests. Well, mj son-in-law is a 
 wretch ; he ill-treats his wife, he scandalizes the whole town 
 and mixes himself up in all sorts of dirty affairs. You will see 
 that he will also compromise himself in political mattei'S when 
 the elections come on. The last time it was he who put him- 
 self at the head of all the riff-raff" of the suburbs. It will kill 
 me, your reverence ! " 
 
 " Monsieur Mouret would never allow anyone to make remarks 
 upon his conduct to him," the Abbe ventured to say. 
 
 " But I can't abandon my daughter to such a man ! " cried 
 Madame Rougon. "I will not permit ourselves to be dis- 
 honoured. Justice is not made to be cast to the dogs." 
 
 Trouche was sw-aying himself about. He took advantage of a 
 momentary silence. 
 
 " Monsieur Mouret is mad ! " he declared roundly. 
 
 The words seemed to fall with all the stunning weight of a 
 blow fi'om a club, and everyone looked at the speaker. 
 
 "I mean that he has a weak head," Trouche continued. 
 "You've only got to look at his eyes. 1 can tell you that I 
 don't feel particularly easy myself. There was a man in
 
 250 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 
 
 Besan9on who adored his daughter, but he murdered her one 
 night without knowing what he was doing." 
 
 " The master has been cracked for a long time past," said Rose. 
 
 "But this is frightful !" cried Madame Rougon. "Really I 
 think you are right. The last time I saw him, he had a most 
 extraordinary expression. He has never had very sharp wits. 
 Ah ! my poor dear, promise to confide everything to me. I 
 shall not be able to sleep quietly after this. Listen to me 
 now ; at the first sign of extravagant conduct on your hus- 
 band's part, don't hesitate any longer, and don't run any further 
 risk — madmen must be placed in confinement ! " 
 
 After this speech, she w^ent away. When Trouche was again 
 alone with the Abb6 Faujas, he sniggered with his unpleasant 
 grin that exposed his black teeth to view. 
 
 " Our landlady will owe me a big taper," he said. " She will 
 be able to kick about at nights as much as she likes. " 
 
 The priest, with his face quite ashy and his eyes bent down 
 to the ground, made no reply. Then he shrugged his shoulders 
 and went off to read his breviary under the arbour at the bottom 
 of the garde'i
 
 251 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 On Sundays Mouret, like many of the other retired traders, use u 
 to go out and stroll about the town. It was on Sundays only 
 that he now emerged from that state of lonely seclusion in 
 which he buried himself, overcome with a sort of shame. His 
 Sunday outing was gone through quite mechanically. In the 
 morning he shaved himself, put on a clean shirt, and brushed 
 his coat and hat ; then, after breakfast, he found himself in the 
 street, without quite knowing how he got there, walking along 
 with short steps, with his hands behind his back and looking 
 very sedate and neat. 
 
 As he was leaving his house one Sunday, he saw Rose talking 
 with much animation to Monsieur Rastoil's cook on the path- 
 way of the Rue Balande. The two servants dropped into 
 silence when they cauglt sight of him. They looked at him with 
 such a peculiar expression that he felt behind him to find 
 out whether his handkerchief was hanging out of his 
 pocket. When he reached the Place of the Sub-Prefecture, 
 he turned his head round and looked back and saw them still 
 standing in the same place. Rose was imitating the reeling 
 of a drunken man, while the president's cook was laughing 
 loudly. 
 
 " 1 am walking too quickly and they are making fun of me," 
 Mouret thought. 
 
 Then he slackened his pace. As he passed through the Rue 
 delaBanne towards the market, the shop-keepers ran to their 
 doors and followed him curiously with tlieir eyes. He gave a 
 little nod to the butcher, who looked confused and did not return 
 the salutation. The baker's wife, to whom he raised his hat, 
 seemed quite alarmed and she hastily stepped backwards. The 
 green-grocer, the pastry-cook and the grocer pointed him out 
 to each other with their fingers from opposite sides of the street. 
 As he went along, there was much excitement behind him,
 
 252 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 
 
 and the people clustered together in groups, and there was a 
 great deal of talking mingled with laughs and grins. 
 
 "Did you notice how quickly he was walking] " 
 
 " Yes, indeed, when ho wanted to stride across the gutter he 
 almost jumped." 
 
 " It is said that they are all like that." 
 
 " I felt quite frightened. Why do they let him come out 1 
 It oughtn't to be allowed."' 
 
 Mouret was beginning to feel timid and he dared not venture 
 to look round again. He experienced a vague uneasiness, 
 though he could not feel quite sure that it was about himself that 
 the people were all talking. He quickened his steps and began 
 to swing his arms about Avith an easy motion. He regretted 
 that he had put on his old over-coat, a hazel-coloured one and 
 no longer of a fashionable cut. When he reached the market- 
 place, he hesitated for a moment, and then he strode boldly 
 on into the midst of the green-grocers' stalls. The mere sight 
 of him caused quite a commotion. 
 
 All the house-wives of Plassans formed a line about his path, 
 and the market-women stood by their stalls, with their hands 
 on their hips, and stared hard at him. The people pushed each 
 other to get a sig'ut of him, and some of the women mounted 
 on to the benches in the corn-market. Mouret still further 
 quickened his steps and tried to disengage himself from the 
 crowd, not yet being able to believe that it was he who was the 
 cause of all this excitement. 
 
 " Well, anyone would think that his arms were wind-mill sails," 
 said a peasant-woman who was selling fruit. 
 
 " He flies on like a shot ; he nearly upset my stall," exclaimed 
 another woman, a green-grocer. 
 
 " Stop him ! stop him ! " the millers cried facetiously. Mouret, 
 overcome by curiosity, halted altogether and craned himself up 
 on the tips of his toes to see what was the matter. He imagined 
 that some one had just been detected thieving. A loud burst of 
 laughter broke out from the crowd, and there were shouts and 
 hisses and all sorts of calls and cries. 
 
 " There's no harm in him ; don't hurt him." 
 
 " Ah ! I'm not so sure of that. I shouldn't like to trust myself 
 too near him. He gets up in the night and strangles people." 
 
 " He certainly looks a bad one." 
 
 "Has it come upon him quite suddenly?" 
 
 " Yes, indeed, all at once. And he used to be so kind and
 
 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 253 
 
 gentle ! I'm going away ; all this distresses me. Here are 
 the three sous for the tiirnips." 
 
 Mouret had just recognised Olympe in the midst of a group 
 of women. She had bought some magnificent peaches which 
 she was carrying in a very fashionable-looking hand-V)ag. She 
 had evidently been relating some very moving story, for all the 
 gossips who were surrounding her were breaking out into 
 smotliered exclamations as they clasped their hands with 
 expi'essions of pity. 
 
 "Then," she was saying, "he seized her by the hair, and he 
 would have cut her throat with a razor that was lying on the 
 chest of drawers if we hadn't arrived just in time to prevent the 
 murder. Don't say anything to her about it : it would only bring 
 her more trouble." 
 
 "What trouble?" demanded Mouret in amazement of Olympe 
 
 The women hurried away, and Oh mpe assumed an expression 
 of careful watchfulness for her own safety as she warily slipped 
 off, saying : 
 
 ** Don't excite yourself, Monsieur Mouret. You had better 
 go back home." 
 
 Mouret took refuge in a little lane that led to the Cours 
 Sauvaire. The shouts and cries increased in violence and for a 
 few moments he was pursued by the angry uproar of the market- 
 people. 
 
 " What is the matter with them to-day 1 " he wondered to 
 himself. " Could it be I they were jeering at ] But I never 
 lieard my name mentioned. Something out of the common 
 must have happened." 
 
 Then he took off his hat and examined it, imagining that 
 perhaps some street-lad had thrown a handful of mud at it. 
 It was perfectly right, however, and there was nothing fastened 
 on to his coat-tails. This examination soothed him a little, and 
 lie resumed his sedate walk through the silent lane, and turned 
 tranquilly into the Cours Sauvaire. 
 
 The usual group of friends were sitting on the benches in the 
 sun. 
 
 " Hallo ! there's Mom-et ! " cried the retired captain with an 
 expression of great astonishment. 
 
 The liveliest curiosity manifested itself in the sleepy faces of 
 the group. They stretched out their heads, without rising 
 from their seats, leaving Mouret to stand in front of them. He 
 examined them minutely from head to foot.
 
 •2->i THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 
 
 " Ah ! you are taking a little stroll 1 " said the captain who 
 seemed the boldest. 
 
 " Yes, just a short stroll," replied Mouret, in a listless fashion. 
 " It's a very tine day." 
 
 The company exchanged meaning smiles. They were feeling 
 chilly and the sky had just become overcast. 
 
 " Very fine," said the retired tanner ; " you are easily pleased. 
 It is true, however, that you are already wearing winter clothes. 
 What a funny overcoat that is you've got." 
 
 The smiles now grew into grins and titters. A sudden idea 
 seemed to strike Mouret. 
 
 " Just look and tell me," he said, suddenly turning himself 
 round, "if I have got a svm on my back." 
 
 The retired almond-dealers could no longer keep themselves 
 serious and they burst into laughter. The captain, who was 
 the joker of the company, winked his eyes. 
 
 "A sun 1 " he asked, " where? I can only see a moon. " 
 
 The others shook with laughter. They thought the captain 
 excessively witty. 
 
 " A moon 1 " said Mouret ; " be kind enough to remove it. It 
 has caused me much inconvenience, " 
 
 The captain gave him three or four taps on the back and 
 then he said : 
 
 " There, you are rid of it now. It must, indeed, be extremely 
 inconvenient to have a moon on one's back. You are not looking 
 very well. " 
 
 " I am not very well, " Mouret replied in his listless indifferent 
 voice. 
 
 Then, imagining that he heard a titter, he added : 
 
 " But I am very well taken care of at home. My wife is 
 very kind and attentive, and she quite spoils me. But I am 
 in need of rest, and that is the reason why I don't come out 
 now like I used to do, and am not seen about so much. When 
 I am better, I shall look after business again." 
 
 " But, " interrupted the retired master-tanner bluntly, "they 
 say it is your wife who is not very well." 
 
 "My wife ! There is notliing the matter with her ! It is a 
 pack of falsehoods ! There is nothing the matter with her, 
 nothing at all. People say things against us because we keep 
 ourselves quietly at Fiome. Ill, indeed ! my wife ! She is very 
 strong and never even has so much the matter with her as a 
 head-ache."
 
 THE CONQUEST OF PLASFJANS. 255 
 
 He went on speaking in short sentences, stammering and 
 liesitating with the uneasy look of a man who is telhng false- 
 hoods and the embaiTassment of a whilom gossip who has become 
 tongue-tied. The retired traders shook their heads with pitying 
 expressions and the captain tapped his fore-head with his finger. 
 A former hatter of the suburbs who had scrutinized Mouret from 
 his cravat to the bottom button of his over-coat was now absorbed 
 in the examination of his boots. 'Che lace of the one on the 
 left foot had come undone, and this seemed to the hatter a most 
 extraordinary matter. He nudged his neighbours' elbows and 
 winked as he called their attention to the loosened lace. Soon 
 all the bench liad eyes for nothing else but the lace. It was 
 the last proof. The men shrugged their shoulders in a way 
 that seemed to say that they had now lost their last spark of 
 iiope. 
 
 "Mouret," said the captain, in paternal tones, "fasten up 
 your boot-lace." 
 
 Mouret glanced at his feet, but he did not seem to understand, 
 and he went on talking. Then, as no one replied to him, he 
 became silent, and after standing there for a moment or two 
 longer, he quietly continued his walk. 
 
 "He will fall, I'm sure," exclaimed the master-tanner, who 
 had risen from his seat that he might keep Mouret longer in 
 view. 
 
 When Mouret got to the end of the Cours Sauvaire, and passed 
 in front of the Young Men's Club, he was again greeted with 
 the smothered laughs which had followed him since he reached 
 the street. He could distinctly see Severin Eastoil, who was 
 standing at the door of the club, pointing him out to a gi-oup of 
 young men. Clearly, he thought, it was himself who was thus 
 providing sport for the town. He bent his head down and was 
 seized with a kind of fear, which he could not explain to him- 
 self, as he stepped hastily along past the houses. Just as he 
 was about to turn into the Rue Canquoin, he heard a noise 
 behind him, and, turning his head, he saw three lads following 
 him ; two of them were big, impudent-looking lads, while the 
 third was a very small one, with a serious face, and he was 
 holding in his hand a dirty orange which he had picked up out 
 of the gutter. Mouret made his way along the Rue Canquoin, 
 and then, crossing over the Place des RecoUets, he arrived 
 in the Rue de la Banne. The lads were still followiu"- 
 hnn.
 
 2of; THE CONQUEST 01' PLASSANS. 
 
 " Do you want your ears pulled 1 " he called out, suddenly 
 stepping up to them, 
 
 They dashed on one side, shouting and laughing, and made 
 their escape from him, hopping away on their hands and knees. 
 Mouret turned very red, and felt that he was an object ot 
 ridicule. He felt a perfect fear of crossing the Place ot the 
 Sub-Prefecture, and passing in front of the Rougons' windows 
 with this following of street-arabs which he could hear increas- 
 ing in numbers and boldness behind him. As he went along, he 
 was obliged to go out of his way to avoid his mother-in-law, who 
 was returning from vespers with Madame de Condamin. 
 
 " Wolf ! wolf ! " cried the lads. 
 
 Mouret, with the perspiration breaking out on his brow and 
 his feet stumbling against the flags, overheard old Madame 
 Rougon say to the wife of the conservator of rivers and forests : 
 
 " See ! there he is, the scoundrel ! It is disgraceful; and we 
 can't tolerate it much longer." 
 
 Then Mouret could no longer restrain himself from setting off 
 at a run. With swinging arms and a look of distraction upon 
 his face, he rushed into the Rue Balande with about ten or a 
 dozen street-arabs dashing after him. It seemed to him as 
 though all the shop-keepers of the Rue de la Banne, and tlie 
 market-women, and the promenaders in the Cours, the young 
 men from the club, the Rougons, the Condamins, all Plassans, 
 in fact, were surging onwards behind his back, breaking out 
 into laughs and jeers, as he sjjed up the steep slope of the street. 
 The lads stamped their feet and slid along the pavement, 
 and made as much row in the usually quiet neighbourhood as 
 an escaped pack of hounds. 
 
 " Catch him ! " they screamed. 
 
 " Did you ever see such a scare-crow as he looks in that over- 
 coat of his 1 " 
 
 " Some of you go round by the Rue Taravelle and then you'll 
 nab him ! " 
 
 " Cut along ! cut along as hard as you can go ! " 
 
 Mouret, now quite frantic, made a desperate rush towards his 
 door, but his foot slipped and he tumbled down on to the 
 pathway, where he lay for a few moments, quite overcome and 
 motionless. .The lads, afraid lest he should kick out at them, 
 formed a circle round him and shrieked out screams of triumph, 
 while the smallest of them, stepping gravely forward, threw 
 the rotten orange at Mouret, and it flattened itself against his
 
 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSAXS. 257 
 
 left eye. Then the poor man got up with pain and difficulty, 
 and went in at his own door without attempting to wipe him- 
 self. Rose was forced to come out with a broom and drive 
 the young ragamuffins away. 
 
 From this Sunday all Plassans was quite convinced that 
 Mouret was a lunatic who ought to be placed under restraint. 
 The most surprising statements were made in support of this 
 belief. It was said, for instance, that he shut himself up for 
 days together in a perfectly empty room which had not been 
 touched with a broom for a whole year; and those who circulated 
 this story vouched for its truth, as they had it, they said, from 
 ^Mouret's own cook. The accounts differed as to what he did 
 in this empty room. The cook said that he pretended to be 
 dead, a statement which thrilled the whole neighbourhood with 
 horror. The market-people firmly believed that he kept a coffin 
 concealed in the room, and that he laid himself down at 
 full length in it, wuth his eyes open and his hands upon his 
 breast, and that he remained like that from morning till 
 evening. 
 
 " The attack has been threatening him for a long time past," 
 Olympe remarked in every shop she entered. "It has been brood- 
 ing in him ; for a long time he has been very melancholy and 
 low-spirited, hiding himself in out-of-the-w^ay corners, just like 
 an animal^ you know, that is feeling ill. The very first day I 
 set foot in the house I said to my husband, 'The landlord 
 seems to be in a bad way.' His eyes were quite yellow and he 
 had a queer look about him. Afterwards he went on in the 
 strangest way in the house, and he had all sorts of extraordinary 
 w'hims and crotchets. He used to count every lump of sugar 
 and locked everything up, even the bread. He was so dreadfully 
 miserly that his poor wife hadn't even a pair of boots to put on. 
 Ah ! poor thing, she has a dreadful time of it, and T pity her 
 from the bottom of my heart. Imagine the life she leads with 
 this madman who can't oven behave himself decently at table ! 
 He throws his napkin away in the middle of dinner, and ho 
 stalks off, looking stupefied, after having made a horrible mess 
 in his plate. And such a temper as he has, too ! He used to make 
 the most terrible scenes just because the mustard pot wasn't in jts 
 right place. But now he doesn't speak at all, though he glares 
 like a wildbeast, and he springs at people's throats without 
 uttering a word. Ah ! I could tell you some strange stories, if 
 I liked."
 
 258 THE 0ON(>T'FST OF PLASi^iANS. 
 
 Then when she had excited the keenest curiositj' in her hearers, 
 and they began to press her with questions, she said : 
 
 " No, no ; it is no business of mine. Madame Mouret is a 
 perfect saint and bears her sufiferiug hke a true christian. She 
 has her own ideas on the matter, and one must respect them. 
 Could you beheve that he has tried to cut her throat with a 
 razor?" 
 
 It was always the same story that she told, but it never failed 
 to produce a great effect. Fists were clenched and the w^omen 
 talked of strangling Mouret. If any incredulous person shook 
 his head, they put him to confusion by calling upon him to ex- 
 plain the dreadful scenes which took place every night. It was 
 only a madman, they said, who was capable of flj'ing in this 
 way at his wife's throat the moment she went to bed. There 
 was a spice of mystery in the affair which helped materially to 
 spread the matter about the town. For nearly a month the 
 rumour had been gaining strength. Yet, in spite of Olympc's 
 tragical gossipings, peace had been restored at the Mourets' 
 and the nights now 2^assed away in quietness. Marthe ex- 
 hibited much nervous impatience when her friends, without 
 sjjeaking quite directly, advised her to be very careful. 
 
 "You will only go your own way, I suppose," Rose said. 
 " Well, you will see he will begin again, and we shall find you 
 murdered one of these fine mornings." 
 
 Madame Rougon now ostentatiously came up to the house 
 every other da}'. She entered it with an expression of extreme 
 uneasiness, and, as soon as the door was opened, she asked of 
 Rose : 
 
 " Well ! has anything happened to-day 1 " 
 
 Then, as soon as she caught sight of her daughter, she kissed 
 her, and clasped her arms round her with a wild show of affection, 
 as though she had been afraid that she would not find her alive. 
 She passed the most dreadful nights, she said, and trembled 
 at eveiy ring of the bell, imagining that it was the signal of 
 tidings of some dreadful calamity, and had no longer any 
 pleasure in living. When Marthe told her that she was in no 
 danger whatever, she looked at her with an expression of ad- 
 miration, and exclaimed : 
 
 " You ai'e a perfect angel ! If I were not here to look after 
 you, 3'ou would allow yourself to be murdered without uttering 
 even a sigh. But make yourself easy ; I am watching over 
 you, and I am taking all precautions. The first time your
 
 THE CONQFERT OF TLASSANS. 25fl 
 
 husband raises his little finger against you, he will hear from 
 me." 
 
 She did not explain herself any further. The truth of the 
 matter was that she had paid visits to every official in Plassans, 
 and she had in this way confidentially related her daughter's 
 troubles to the mayor, the sub-prefect, and the president of 
 the tribunal, making them promise to observe an absolute 
 secrecy about the matter, 
 
 " It is a mother in despair who is addressing herself to you," 
 she said with tears in her eyes. " I am giving into your 
 keeping the honour and reputation of my poor child. My 
 husband would take to his bed if there were to be a jDublic 
 scandal, but I can't wait till there is some fatal catastrophe. 
 Advise me, and tell me what I ought to do." 
 
 The officials showed her the greatest sympathy and kindness. 
 They did their best to reassure her, and they promised to keep 
 a cai'eful watch over Madame Mouret without in any way 
 letting it be known, and, at the slightest sign of danger, to 
 take some active step. In her interviews with Monsieur 
 Pequeur des Savilaies and Monsieur Rastoil, she drew their 
 especial attention to the fact that, as they were her son-in-law's 
 immediate neighbours, they would be able to interfere at once 
 in the event of anything going wrong. 
 
 This story of a lunatic in his senses, who waited till the 
 stroke of midnight to become mad, gave an exciting interest to 
 the meetings of the two parties of guests in the Mourets' garden. 
 They showed great alacrity in going to greet the Abb^ Favijas. 
 The priest came downstairs at four o'clock, and proceeded to 
 do the honours of the arbour with much friendliness and 
 urbanity, but he persisted in keeping himself in the background, 
 and did little more than nod his head in answer to what was 
 said to him. For the first few days, only indirect allusions 
 were made to the drama which was being enacted in the house, 
 but, one Tuesday, Monsieur MafTre, who was gazing at the 
 front of it with an uneasy expression, fixing his eyes upon one 
 of tlie windows of the first floor, ventured to ask : 
 
 "That is the room, isn't it?" 
 
 Then the two parties began, in low tones, to discuss the 
 strange story which was exciting the neighbourhood. The 
 priest made some vague remarks : it was very sad, and much 
 to be regretted, he said, and then he pitied everybody without 
 venturing anything more explicit.
 
 2G0 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 
 
 " But yoii; doctor," asked Madame de Condamin of Doctor 
 Porquier, " you who are the family doctor, what do you think 
 about it all 1 " 
 
 Doctor Porquier shook his head for some time before making 
 any reply, and affected a discreet reserve. 
 
 " It is a very delicate matter," he said at last. ''Madame 
 Mouret is not in robust health, and as for Monsieur Mouret — " 
 
 *' I have seen Madame Rougon," said the sub-prefect, " She 
 is very uneasy." 
 
 " Her son-in-law has always been obnoxious to her," Monsieur 
 de Condamin exclaimed bluntly. " I met Mouret myself at 
 the club the other day, and he gave me a beating at piquet. 
 He seemed to me to be as sensible as ever he was. The good 
 man was never a Solomon." 
 
 " I have not said that he was mad, in the common interpre- 
 tation of the word," said the doctor, thinking that he was being 
 attacked ; " but I merely say that I do not think it is prudent 
 to allow him to be any longer at large." 
 
 This statement of the doctor caused considerable excitement, 
 and Monsieur Rastoil glanced instinctively at the wall which 
 separated the two gardens. Every face was turned toward 
 the doctor. 
 
 "I once knew," he continued, "a charming lady, who kept 
 up a large establishment, giving dinner-parties, and receiving 
 at her house the most distinguished members of society, and 
 who showed much sense and wit in her conversation. Well, 
 when that lady retired to her bedroom, she locked herself in, 
 and spent a part of the night in crawling round the room on 
 her hands and knees, barking like a dog. The people in 
 the house for a long time imagined that she really had a dog 
 in the room with her. This lady was an example of what we 
 doctors call lucid madness." 
 
 The Abbe Surin's face was wreathed with twinkling smiles 
 as he glanced at Monsieur Rastoil's daughters, who appeared 
 much amused by this story of a fashionable lady turning herself 
 into a dog. Doctor Porquier blew his nose very gravely. 
 
 " I could give you a score of other similar instances," he con- 
 tinued, " of people who appeared to be in full possession of 
 their senses, and who yet committed the most extraordinarily 
 extravagant actions as soon as they foimd themselves alone. 
 Monsieur de Bourdeii knew intimately at Valence a marquis, 
 whose name I won't mention — "
 
 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 2G1 
 
 "He was a most intimate friend of mine," said Monsieiu' 
 
 de Bourdeu. " He used frequently to dine at the Prefecture. 
 
 His story was the subject of much talk and discussion." 
 
 " What was the story ! " asked Madame de Condamin, seeing 
 
 that both the doctor and the ex-prefect were remaining 
 
 silent. 
 
 " Well, it's not a very nice one," replied Monsieur de Bourdeu 
 
 with a laugh. "The marquis, who was never a man of great 
 
 intelligence, used to spend the whole day in his study, where he 
 
 said he was engaged upon a great work on political economy. 
 
 At the end of ten years it was discovered that he had been 
 
 spending his time, from morning to night, in making little balls 
 
 of equal size out of — " 
 
 " Out of his excrements," concluded the doctor in a voice so 
 
 grave that the word passed without offence and did not even 
 
 make the ladies blush. 
 
 "I once had," said the Abbe Bourrette, who was as much 
 
 amused with these anecdotes as if they had been fairy-tales, 
 " a very strange penitent. She had a mania for killing flies, and 
 she never could see one without feeling an irresistible desire to 
 capture it. She used to keep them at home strung upon knitting 
 needles. When she came to confess, she would weep bitterly and 
 accuse herself of the deaths of the poor creatures and believe 
 that she was damned. I could never correct her of the habit." 
 This story of the Abbe was very well received, and even 
 Monsieur Pequeur des Saulaies and Monsieur Rastoil themselves 
 condescended to smile. 
 
 "There is no great harm done," said the doctor, " so long as 
 one confines one's self to killing flies. But the conduct of all lucid 
 madmen is not so innocent as that. Some of them torture their 
 families by some concealed vice, which has reached the degree 
 of a mania ; there are other wretched ones who drink and give 
 themselves up to secret debauchery, who steal because they 
 can't help stealing, and who are mad with pride or jealousy or 
 ambition. They are able to control themselves in public, and 
 to carry out the most complicated schemes and projects, and to 
 converse rationally and without giving any one any reason to 
 suspect their mental weakness, but as soon as they get back to 
 their own private life and are alone with their victims, they 
 abandon themselves to their delirious ideas and become brutal 
 savages. If they don't murder straight out, they do it grad- 
 ually."
 
 2G2 THE COXQUEST OF PLASSANS. 
 
 "Well, now, what about Monsieur Mouret '? " asked Madame 
 de Condamin. 
 
 " Monsieur Mouret has always been a worrying, restless, 
 despotic sort of man. His cerebral derangement has increased 
 with his years. I should not hesitate now to elass him amongst 
 dangerous madmen. I had a patient who used to shut herself 
 up, just as he does, in an unoccupied room, and spend the 
 whole day in contriving the most abominable actions." 
 
 " But, doctor, if that is your opinion, you ought to profter 
 your advice," exclaimed Monsieur Rastoil, " you ought to warn 
 those who are concerned." 
 
 Doctor Porquier seemed slightly embarrassed. 
 
 " Well, we will see about it," he said, smiling again with his 
 fashionable doctor's smile. " If it should be necessary and 
 matters become serious, I will do my duty." 
 
 " Pooh ! " cried Monsieur de Condamin satirically ; " the 
 greatest lunatics are not those who have the reputation of being 
 so. No brain is sound for a mad-doctor. The doctor here has 
 just been reciting to us a page out of a book on lucid madness, 
 which I have read and which is as interesting as a novel." 
 
 The Abbe Faujas had been listening with curiosity though 
 he had taken no part in the conversation. Then, when there 
 was a temporary silence, he remarked that their talk about 
 mad people had a depressing effect upon the ladies and 
 suggested that the subject should be changed. Their curiosity 
 was awakened, and the two sets of guests now began to keep 
 a sharp watch upon Mouret's behaviour. The latter now only 
 came out into the garden for an hour a day, while the Faujases 
 remained sitting at table with his wife. Directly he appeared 
 there, he came under the active surveillance of the Eastoils 
 and the frequenters of the Sub-Prefecture. He could not stand 
 for a moment in front of a bed of vegetables or examine a 
 plant or even make a gesture of any sort without exciting 
 in the two gardens on his right and left the most unfavourable 
 comments. Everyone was turning against him. Monsieur de 
 Condamin was the only one who still defended him. One day 
 the fair Octavie said to him as they were at luncheon : 
 
 " What difference can it make to you whether Mouret is 
 mad or not 1 " 
 
 *' To me, my dear 1 Absolutely none," he said in astoitish- 
 ment. 
 
 " Very well, then, allow that he is mad, since everyone says
 
 THE OONQOEST OF PLASSANS, 263 
 
 he is. I don't kuow why you arc so persistent in holding a 
 conti'aiy opinion to your wife's. It won't prove to your 
 advantage, my dear. Have the intelligence, at Plassans, not 
 to be too intelligent." 
 
 Monsieur do Condamiu smiled. 
 
 "You are right, my dear, as you always are," he said 
 gallantly ; " you kuow that I have put ni}'- fortune in your 
 hands — Don't wait dinner for me. I am going to ride to 
 Saint-Eutrope to have a look at some timber they are felling." 
 
 Then he left the room, biting the end otF a cigar. 
 
 Madame de Condamiu was well aware that he had a tender- 
 ness for a young girl in the neighbourhood of Saint-Eutrope ; 
 but she was very tolerant and she had even saved him twice 
 from the consequences of scandalous intrigues. On his side, 
 he felt very easy about his wife's virtue ; he knew that she was 
 much too pi'udent to indulge in any intrigue in Plassans. 
 
 " You would never guess how Mouret spends his time in that 
 room where he shuts himself up ! " the conservator of rivers and 
 forests said the next morning when he called in at the Sub- 
 Prefecture. " He is counting all the s's in the Bible. He is 
 afraid of making any mistake about the matter, and he has 
 already commenced counting them for the third time. Ah ! 
 you were quite right ; he is cracked from top to bottom ! " 
 
 From this time Monsieur d bndamin w'as very hard upon 
 Mouret. He even exaggerated matters and used all his skill 
 in inventing absurd stories to astonish the Kastoils ; but it was 
 Monsieur MafFre that he made his special victim. He told 
 him one day that he had seen Mouret standing at one of the 
 windows that looked on to the street in a state of complete 
 nudity, having only a woman's cap on his head, bowing to 
 the empty air. Another day he asserted with ;i mazing 
 assurance that he had seen ^Mouret dancing like a savage in a 
 little wood tlirco leagues away ; and when the magistrate seemed 
 to doubt this story, he appeared to be vexed and said that Mouret 
 might very easily have got down by the water-spout without 
 being discovered. The fi'cqueuters of tiie Sub Prefecture smiled, 
 but the next morning the Kastoils' cook spread these extra- 
 ordinary stories about the town, where the legend of the man 
 who beat his wife was assuming extraordinary proportions. 
 
 One afternoon Aurelic, the elder of Monsieur Rastoil's two 
 daugliters, related with a blushing face how the previous night, 
 having gone to look out of her window about midnight, slic had
 
 264 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 
 
 seen their neighbour jDromenading about his garden, carrying a 
 great candle. Monsieur de Condamin thought the girl was 
 making fun of him, but she gave the most minute details. 
 
 " He held the candle in his left hand ; and he knelt down on 
 the ground and dragged himself along on his knees, sobbing as 
 he did so." 
 
 " Can it be possible that he has committed a murder and has 
 buried the body of his victim in his garden 1 " said Monsieur 
 MafFre, who had turned quite pale. 
 
 Then the two sets of guests agreed to watch some night, till 
 midnight if it were necessary, to try and clear the matter up. 
 The following night they kept on the alert in the two gardens, 
 but Mouret did not appear. Three nights were wasted in the 
 same way. The Sub-Prefecture party were going to abandon the 
 watch, and Madame de Condamin declined to stay out any longer 
 under the chestnut-trees where it was so dreadfully dark, when 
 a light was seen flickering through the inky darkness of the 
 fourth night on the ground-floor of the Mourets' house. When 
 Monsieur Pequeur des Saulaies' attention was drawn to this, he 
 slipped out into the Chevillottes alley to go and invite the 
 Rastoils to come on to his terrace which overlooked the 
 neighbouring garden. The president, who was on the watch 
 with his daughters behind the cascade, hesitated for a moment, 
 reflecting whether he might not compromise himself politically 
 by going in this way to the sub-prefect's, but as the night was 
 very dark and his daughter Aurelie was most anxious to have 
 the truth of her report manifested, he followed Monsieur Pequeur 
 des Saulaies with stealthy steps through the darkness. It was 
 in this manner that a representative of Legitimacy at Plassans 
 for the first time entered the grounds of a Bonapartist official. 
 
 "Don't make a noise," whispered the sub-prefect. "Lean 
 over the terrace." 
 
 There Monsieur liastoil and his daughters found Doctor 
 Porquier and Madame de Condamin and her husband. The 
 darkness was so dense that they exchanged salutations without 
 being able to see one another. Then they all held their breath. 
 Mouret had just appeared upon the steps, holding a candle stuck 
 in a great kitchen candle-stick. 
 
 " You see he has got a candle," whispered Aurelie. 
 
 No one dissented. The fact was quite incontrovertible ; 
 Mouret certainly was carrying a candle. He came slowly down 
 the steps, turned to the left and then stood motionless before a
 
 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 265 
 
 bed of lettuces. He then raised his candle to throw a light 
 upon the plants. His face looked quite yellow against the 
 black background of the night. 
 
 " What a dreadful face ! " exclaimed Madame de Condamin. 
 •' I shall dream of it, I'm certain. Is he asleep, doctor? " 
 
 " No, no ; " replied Doctor Porquier, "he is not a somnam- 
 bulist ; he is wide awake. Do you notice how fixed his gaze 
 is 1 Observe, too, the abruptness of his movements — " 
 
 "Husli! hush!" interrupted Monsieur Pequeur des Saulaies; 
 "we don't require a lecture just now." 
 
 Then there was the most complete silence. Mouret had 
 stridden over the box edging and was kneeling down in the 
 midst of the lettuces. He held his candle down, and he began 
 search along the trenches underneath the spreading leaves of 
 the plants. Every now and then he made a slight exclamation 
 and he seemed to be crushing something and stamping it into 
 the ground. This went on for nearly half an hour. 
 
 "He is crying; it is just as I told you," said Aurelie com- 
 placently. 
 
 " It is really very terrifying," Madame de Condamin ex- 
 claimed nervously. " Let us go back into the house, I beg." 
 
 Mouret dropped his candle and it went out. They could 
 hear him uttering exclamations of annoyance as he went back 
 up the steps, stumbling against them in the dark. The 
 Rastoil girls broke out into slight cries of terror, and they did 
 not quite i-ecover from their fright till they got back to the 
 brightly lighted little drawing-room, where Monsieur Pequeur 
 des Saulaies insisted upon the company refreshing themselves 
 with some tea and biscuits. Madame de Condamin was still 
 trembling with alai-m, and she huddled herself up in the corner 
 of a couch and said, with a touching smile, that she had never 
 felt so overcome before, not even on the morning when she 
 had had the reprehensible curiosity to go and see a criminal 
 executed. 
 
 " It is strange," remarked Monsietir Rastoil, who had been 
 buried in thought for a moment or two; "but Mouret had all 
 the appearance of searching for slugs amongst his lettuces. 
 The gardens are quite destroyed with them, and I have been 
 told that they can only be satisfactorily exterminated in the 
 night-time." 
 
 "Slugs, indeed ! " cried Monsieur de Condamin. " Do you 
 sujjpose he troubles himself about slugs 1 Do people go hunt-
 
 206 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 
 
 iiig for slugs with a caudle ? No ; I agree with Monsieur 
 Maffre iu thinking that there is some crime at the bottom of 
 the matter. Has this Mouret ever had a servant who disap- 
 peared mysteriously 1 There ought to be an inquiry made." 
 
 Monsieur Pequeur des Saulaies thought that his friend the 
 conservator of river and forests was theorizing a little further 
 than tlie facts warranted. He took a sip at his tea and said : 
 
 " No, no ; my dear sir. He is mad and has extraordinary 
 fancies, but that is all. It is qviite bad enough as it is." 
 
 He took the plate of biscuits and handed it to Monsieur 
 Eastoil's daughter with a gallant bow and then putting it doAvu 
 again he continued : 
 
 " And to think this wretched man has mixed himself up in 
 politics ! I don't want to insinuate anything against your 
 alliance with the republicans, my dear president, but you 
 must allow that in him the Marquis de Lagrifoul had a very 
 peculiar supporter." 
 
 Monsieur Rastoil had become very grave. He merely made 
 a vague gesture, without saying anything. 
 
 " And he still busies himself with these matters. It is 
 politics, perhaps, which are turning his brain," said the fair 
 Octavie, as she delicately wiped her lips. " They say he takes 
 the greatest interest in the approaching elections, don't they, 
 my dear 1 " 
 
 She addressed this question to her husband, casting a glance 
 at him as she spoke. 
 
 " He is quite bursting over it ! " cried Monsieur de Condamin. 
 "He declares that he can entirely control the election, and 
 that he can have a shoemaker returned if he chooses." 
 
 " You are exaggerating," said Dr. Porquier. " He has no 
 longer the influence he used to have ; the whole town jeers at 
 him." 
 
 " Ah ! you are mistaken ! If he chooses, he can lead to the 
 poll the whole of the old quarter of the town and a great 
 number of villages. He is mad, it is true, but that is a re- 
 commendation. I myself consider him still a very sensible 
 person, for a republican." 
 
 This very moderate attempt at wit met with a distinct 
 success. Monsieur Rastoil's daughters broke out into their 
 schoolgirl laughs and the president himself nodded his head in 
 approbation. He threw off his serious expression, and, avoid- 
 ing lookmg at the sub-prefect, he said :
 
 rrrE co^■guEsT of PLASSANS. 267 
 
 " LagTifoiil Las perhaps not rendered us the seivices we had 
 a right to expect, but a shoemaker would be really too dis- 
 graceful for Plassans ! " 
 
 Then, as though he wanted to prevent any further remarks 
 on the subject, he added quickly : 
 
 " It is half-past one ; it is quite an orgie we are having, 
 my dear sub-prefect, we are all very much obliged to you." 
 
 Madame de Condamin, as she wrapped her shawl round her 
 shoulders, contrived to have the last word, 
 
 " Well," she said, " we really must not let the election be 
 controlled by a man who goes and kneels down in the middle 
 of a bed of lettuces after twelve o'clock at night." 
 
 This night became quite historical, and Monsieur de Con- 
 damin derived much amusement from relating the details of 
 what had occurred to Monsieur de Bourdeu and Monsieur 
 Maffre and the priests who had not seen Mouret with his 
 candle. Three days later all the neighbourhood was asserting 
 that the madman who beat his wife had been seen walking 
 about with his head enveloped in a sheet. The afternoon 
 assemblies under the arbour were much exercised by the 
 possible candidature of Mouret's shoemaker. They laughed as 
 they studied each other's expression. It was a sort of political 
 pulse-feeling. Certain confidences of his friend the president 
 induced Monsieur de Bourdeu to believe that a tacit under- 
 standing might be arrived at between the Sub-Prefecture and 
 the moderate opposition to promote the candidature of himself 
 and inflict a crushing defeat upon the republicans. Possessed 
 with this idea he became more and more sarcastic against the 
 marquis and made the most of all his blunders in the Chamber. 
 Monsieur Delangre, who only came at long intervals, alleging 
 tlie cares of his municipal administration as an excuse for hi.s 
 infrequent appearance, smiled softly at each fresh sally of the 
 ex-prefect. 
 
 "You've only got to bury the marquis now, your reverence," 
 he said one day in the Abbe Faujas's ear. 
 
 Madame de Condamin, who heard him, turned her head and 
 laid her finger upon her lips with a pretty look of mischief. 
 
 The Abbe Faujas now allowed politics to be mentioned in 
 his presence. He even occasionally expressed an opinion in 
 favoiu' of a xniion of all honest and religious men. Then all 
 present, Monsieur Pequcur dcs Saulaies, Monsieur Rastoil, 
 Monsieur de Bourdeu, and even Monsieur Maffre, grew quite
 
 268 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 
 
 warm in their expressions of desire for such an agreement. 
 It would be so very easy, they said, for men with a stake in the 
 country to come to an understanding together to work for the 
 firm establishment of those great principles without which no 
 society could hold together. Then the conversation turned 
 upon property, and family and religion. Sometimes Mouret's 
 name was mentioned, and Monsieur de Condamin said once : 
 
 " I never let my wife come here without feeling uneasy. I 
 am really quite alarmed. You will see some strange things 
 happen at the next elections if he is still at liberty." 
 
 Troache did his best every morning to frighten the Abbe 
 Faujas during the interview which he regularly had with him. 
 He told him the most alarming stories. The working-men of 
 the old quarter of the town, he said, were showing too great an 
 interest in Mouret, and they talked of coming to see him and 
 judging of his condition for themselves and taking his advice. 
 
 Tlie priest usually merely shrugged his shoulders. One day, 
 however, Trouche left him looking quite delighted He went 
 off to Olympe and kissed her, exclaiming : 
 
 " This time, my dear, I have managed it ! " 
 
 " Has he given you leave ?" she asked. 
 
 "Yes, full leave. We shall be delightfully comfortable when 
 we have got rid of the old man." 
 
 Olympe was still in bed. She dived down under the bed- 
 clothes, and wriggled about delightedly and laughed glee- 
 fully. 
 
 "We shall have everything to do as we like with, sha'n't we? 
 1 shall take another bedroom, and I shall go out into the garden, 
 and I shall do my cooking downstairs in the kitchen. My 
 brother will have to let us do all that. You must have managed 
 to frighten him very much." 
 
 It was not till about ten o'clock that evening that Trouche 
 made his appearance at the low cafe where he was accustomed 
 to meet Guillaume Porquier and other wild young men. They 
 joked him about his lateness and playfully accused him of 
 having been out on the ramparts with one of the girls of the 
 Home of the Virgin. Pleasantry of this kind generally pleased 
 him, but to-night he remained very grave. He said that he 
 had been engaged with business, very serious business. It was 
 not till towards midnight, when he had emptied the decanters 
 on the counter, that he became more unreserved and expansive. 
 Then he began tu talk stammeringly and familiarly to Guil-
 
 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 2G9 
 
 laume, leaning his back against the wall, and lighting his pipe 
 afresh between every two sentences. 
 
 " I have seen your father this evening. He is a very good 
 fellow. I wanted a paper from him. He was very kind, very 
 kind indeed. He gave it to me. I have it here in my pocket. 
 He didn't want to give it to me at first, though. He said it 
 was only the family's business. I said to him, ' I am the 
 family ; I have got the wife's orders.' You know her, don't 
 you; a dear little woman. She seemed quite pleased when 
 I went to talk the matter over with her beforehand. Then he 
 gave me the paper. You can feel it here in my pocket." 
 
 Guillaume looked at him keenly, concealing h.is extreme 
 curiosity under an incredulous laugh. 
 
 " I'm telling you the truth," the intoxicated man continued. 
 " The paper is here in my pocket. Can't you feel it 1 " 
 
 " Oh ! it's a newspaper ! " said Guillaume. 
 
 Then Trouche sniggered and drew out a large envelope from 
 the pocket of his over-coat and laid it upon the table in the 
 midst of the cups and glasses. For a moment he prevented Guil- 
 laume, who had reached out his hand towards it, from taking- 
 it up, but then he allowed him to have it, laughing loudly as 
 though some one were tickling him. The paper was a min- 
 utely detailed statement by Doctor Porquier on the mental 
 condition of Fran9ois Mouret, householder, of Plassans. 
 
 "Are they going to shut him up, then?" asked Guillaume, 
 handing back the paper. 
 
 " That's no business of yours, my boy," replied Trouche, who 
 had now become distrustful again. " This paper here is for his 
 wife. I am merely a friend who is glad to be able to do a 
 service. She will act as she pleases. She can't go on any 
 longer allowing herself to be half-murdered, poor lady." 
 
 By the time they were turned out of the cafe, he was so 
 drunk that Guillaume had to accompany him to the Rue Balande. 
 He wanted to lie down and go to sleep on every seat in tlie 
 Cours Sauvaire. AVhen they reached the Place of the Sub- 
 Prefecture, he began to cry as he said ; 
 
 " I have no friends now ; every one despises me just because 
 I am poor. But you are a good-hearted young fellow, and you 
 shall come and have coffee with us when we get into possession. 
 If the Abbe interferes with us, we will send him to keep the 
 other one company. He isn't very sharp, the Abbe, in spite 
 of his grand airs. I can pcisuade him into believing anything.
 
 270 THE CONQUEST OF TLASSANS. 
 
 But YOU are a real friend, aren't you 1 Mouret is done for, we 
 will drink his wine together." 
 
 When Guillaume had seen Trouche to his door, he walked 
 through the sleeping town and went and whistled softly before 
 the magistrate's liouse. It was a signal he was making. The 
 young MafTres, whom their father locked up with his own hand 
 in their bed-room, opened a window on the first-floor and de- 
 scended to the ground by the aid of the bars with which the 
 ground-floor windows were protected. Every night they thus 
 went off to the haunts of vice in the company of Guillaume 
 Porquier. 
 
 " Well," he said to them, after they had reached in silence 
 the dark paths of the ramparts, " we needn't trouble ourselves, 
 now. If my father talks any more about sending me off to some 
 hole of a place, I shall have something to say to him. Will you 
 bet that I can't have myself elected into the Young Men's Club 
 whenever I like ? " 
 
 The young MafFres took the bet, and then they all three glided 
 into a yellow house with green shutters that was built in an 
 angle of the ramparts at the end of a blind-alley. 
 
 The following night Marthe was in a dreadful state. She had 
 been present in the morning at a long religious ceremony, the 
 whole of which Olympe had insisted upon seeing. When Rose 
 and the lodgers ran into the room upon hearing her piercing 
 screams, they found her lying at the foot of the bed with her 
 forehead gashed open. Mouret was kneeling in the midst of 
 the bed-clothes, trembling all over. 
 
 " He has killed her this time ! " cried the cook. 
 
 She seized Mouret in her arms, although he was in his night- 
 shirt, and pushed him out of the room and into his office, the 
 door of which was on the other side of the landing ; and then 
 she went back to get a mattress and some blankets which she 
 threw to him. Trouche had set off running to find Doctor 
 Porquier. When the doctor arrived ,he dressed Marthe's wound. 
 If the cut had been a trifle lower down, he said, it would have 
 been fatal. Down-stairs in the lobby, he declared in the 
 presence of them all that it was necessary to take some active 
 steps and that Madame Mom-et's life could no longer be left at 
 the mercy of a violent madman. 
 
 The next morning Marthe was obliged to keep her bed. She 
 was still slightly delirious, and she fancied that she saw an iron 
 hand driving a flaming nword into her skull. Rose absolutely
 
 EOSE AND THE LODGERS FINDING MARTHE BLEEDING ON 
 
 THE FLOOR. p. 270.
 
 THE 0ONQl"rES'r OF ]>LARS.\\S. 271 
 
 (Icclincfl to allow Mouret to enter the i.ujin. She served him 
 his lunch on a dusty table in his own office. He ate nothing 
 and he was gazing at his plate with a look of stupefaction when 
 Rose usliered into the room to him three men dressed in black. 
 "Are you the doctors?" he asked. "How is she getting 
 
 oul" 
 
 "She is better than she was," replied one of the men. 
 
 :Mouret began to cut his bread mechanically as though he 
 was going to eat it. 
 
 " I wish the children were here," he said. " They would look 
 after her and we should be more lively. It is since the children 
 went away that she has been ill. I am no longer good for any- 
 thing. " 
 
 He raised a piece bread to his mouth, and heavy tears trickled 
 down his face. The man who had already spoken to him now 
 said to him, casting at the same time a glance at his two com- 
 panions : 
 
 " Shall we go and fetch your children ] " 
 
 '•' I should like it very much 1 " replied Mouret, vising from 
 his seat. " Let us start at once. " 
 
 As he went downstairs he saw no one except Trouche and his 
 wife who were leaning over the balustrade on the second floor, 
 following each step he took downstairs with their gleaming eyes. 
 Olympe hurried down quickly behind him and rushed into the 
 kitchen where Rose, in a state of great emotion, was watching 
 out of the window. When a carriage, which was waiting at the 
 door, had driven off with Mouret, she sprang up the stair-case 
 again, leaping up four steps at a time, and seizing Trouche by 
 his shoulders, she made him dance round the landing in a par- 
 oxysm of delight. 
 
 " He's packed off ! " she cried. 
 
 Marthe kept her bed for a week. Her mother came to see 
 her every afternoon and manifested the greatest affection. 
 The Faujases and the Trenches succeeded each other in attend- 
 ance at her bed-side ; and even Madame de Condamin called to 
 see her several times. Nothing was said about Mouret, and 
 Rose told her mistress that she thought he had gone to 
 Marseilles. When Marthe, however, was able to come down- 
 stairs again and took her place at the table in the dining-room, 
 she beiran to manifest some astonishment and asked uneasily 
 where her husband was. 
 
 " Now, my dear lady, don't d'-1ress yourself," said Madame
 
 272 THE CONQUEST OF FLASSANS. 
 
 Faujas, " or you will make yourself ill again. It was ab- 
 solutely necessary that something should be done, and your 
 friends felt bound to consult together and take steps for your 
 protection." 
 
 " You've no reason to regret him, I'm sure," cried Rose 
 harshly. " The whole neiglibourhood breatlies more freely 
 now that he's no longer here. They were always afraid of him 
 setting the place on fire or rushing out into the street with a 
 knife. I used to hide all the knives in my kitchen and 
 Monsieur Rastoil's cook did the same. And your poor mother 
 was nearly dead with fright ! Every one who has been here 
 while you have been ill, all those ladies and gentlemen, they 
 every one said to me as I was letting them out, 'It is a good 
 riddance for Plassans.' A place is never easy when a man like 
 that is free to go about just as he likes." 
 
 Marthe listened to this stream of words with staring eyes 
 and deadly pale face. She had let her spoon fall from her 
 hand, and she gazed out of the window in front of her as 
 though the sight of some dreadful vision rising from behind 
 the fruit-trees in the garden was filling her with terror. 
 
 " Les Tulettes ! Les Tulettes ! " she gasped out, as she buried 
 her face in her trembling hands. 
 
 She fell backwards and was fainting away from nervous excite- 
 ment, when the Abb6 Faujas, who had finished his soup, grasped 
 her hands, pressing them tightly, and said in his softest tones : 
 
 " Show yourself strong before this trial which God is sending 
 upon you. He will afford you consolation if you do not show 
 yourself rebellious, and he will grant you the happiness you 
 deserve." 
 
 Beneath the pressure of the priest's hands and the tender 
 inflections of his words, Marthe revived and sat up again with 
 brightly flushing cheeks. 
 
 " Oh, yes ! " she cried, as she broke out into sobs, "I have 
 great need of happiness ; promise me great happiness."
 
 273 
 
 CHAPTER XIX 
 
 The general electious wore to take place in October. About 
 the middle of September, Monseigueur Rousselot suddenly set 
 ofF to Paris, after having had a long interview with the Abbe 
 Faujas. It was said that one of his sisters, who lived at Ver- 
 sailles, was seriously ill. Five days later he was back in Plassaus 
 again, and he called the Abbe Surin into his study to read to 
 him. Lying back in the depths of his easy chair, closely envel- 
 oped in a padded robe of violet silk, although the weather was 
 still quite warm, he smilingly listened to the young Abbe's 
 womanish voice as he softly lisped the strophes of Anacrcon. 
 
 " Good, very good," he said ; " you express tlie music of that 
 beautiful tongue excellently." 
 
 Then, glancing at the time-piece with an expression of uneasi- 
 ness, he added : 
 
 " Has the Abbe Faujas been here yet this morning? Ah, my 
 child, what a dreadful time I've had ! My ears are still buzzing 
 with the abominable uproar of the railway. It was raining the 
 whole time I was in Paris. I was rushing up and down 
 into all the four quarters of the place, and I saw nothing but 
 nmd everywhere." 
 
 The Abbe Surin laid down his book on the corner of a small 
 table. 
 
 " Is your lordship satisfied with the results of your journey V 
 he asked, with the familiarity of a petted favourite 
 
 " I have learnt what I wanted to know," the bishop replied 
 with his subtle smile. " I ought to have taken you with me. 
 You would have learnt a good many things that it would be 
 useful for you to know at your age and destined as you are by 
 your birth and connections for the episcopate." 
 
 "I am listening, my lord," said the young priest with a 
 beseeching expression. 
 
 s
 
 274 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 
 
 But the prelate shook his head. 
 
 " No, no ; these matters are not to be si^oken of. Make a 
 friend of the Abbe Faujas. He may be able to do much for you 
 some day. T liave received full information abo»it him. " The 
 Abbe Surin clasped his hands with such a wheedling look of 
 curiosity that i\rouseigneur Rousselot went on to say : 
 
 " He had some bother of some sort at Besan90n. Afterwards 
 he was living in great poverty in furnished apartments in Paris. 
 He went and ofl'ered himself. Just at that time the minister 
 was on the look-out for priests devoted to the government. I 
 was told that at first Faujas quite frightened him with his 
 fierce looks and old cassock. It was quite by chance that he 
 sent him here. The minister was most pleasant and courteous 
 to me." 
 
 The bishop finished his sentences with a slight wave of his 
 hand, as he sought about for fitting words and feared to say 
 too much. But at last the affection which he felt for his 
 secretary got the better of his caution and he continued with 
 more animation : 
 
 " Take my advice and try to be useful to the vicar of Saint- 
 Saturnin's. He will want all the assistance he can get, and he 
 seems to me to be a man who will never forget either an injury 
 or a kindness. But don't ally yourself with him. He will end 
 badly. That is my impression." 
 
 " End badly 1 " exclaimed the young priest in surprise. 
 
 "Oh ! just now he is in the full swir^' of triumjjh. It is 
 his face which disquiets me, my child. Ke has a terrible face. 
 'J'hat man will never die in his bed. Don't you do anything 
 to compromise me. All I ask for is to be allowed to live tran- 
 quilly, and quietness is all I want." 
 
 The Abbe Surin was just taking up his book again, when the 
 Abbe Faujas was announced. Mouseigueur Rousselot advanced 
 to meet liim with outstretched hands and a smiling face, 
 addressing liim as " my dear vicnr." 
 
 '• Leave us, my child," he said to his secretary, who there- 
 upon retired. 
 
 He spoke of his journey. His sister was better than she had 
 been, he said, and he had been able to shako hands witli some 
 of his old friends. 
 
 " And did you see the minister 1 '■ as-ked the Abbe Faujas, 
 fixing his eyes keenly upon him. 
 
 "Yes ; I thought it was my duty to call ujjon liim," u'jjlied
 
 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 275 
 
 the bishop, who felt that he was bhishing. " He spoke to me 
 very favourably indeed of you." 
 
 " Then yon have no longer any doubts and you trust your- 
 self to me absolutely 1 " 
 
 " Absolutely, my dear vicar. Besides, I know notliing about 
 politics myself, and I leave everything in your hands." 
 
 They remained talking together the whole morning. The 
 Abbe Faujas got the bishop to promise to make a perambulation 
 through his diocese, and the priest said he would go with him 
 and prompt him as to what he was to say. It would be 
 necessary, as well, to summon all the rural deans so that the 
 priests of the smallest villages might receive their instructions. 
 There would be no difficulty in all this, for the clergy would 
 act as they were told. The most delicate task would be in 
 Plassans itself, in the district of Saint-Marc. The aristocrats, 
 shutting themselves up in the privacy of their houses, were 
 entirely beyond the reach of the priest's influence, and up 
 till now he had only been able to work upon the ambitious 
 royalists, such men as Rastoil and MaftVe and Bourdeii. 
 The bishop undertook to soiind the feelings of certain draw- 
 ing-rooms in the district of Saint-Marc where he visited. 
 But even allowing that the aristocracy voted adversely, they 
 would be in a ridiculous minority if they were deserted by 
 those of the middle classes who were amenable to clerical 
 influence. 
 
 " Now," said Monseigneur Rousselot as he rose from his seat, 
 " it would perhaps be as well if you told me the name of your 
 candidate that I may recommend him in my letters." 
 
 The Abbe Faujas smiled. 
 
 "It is dangerous to mention names," he said. ** There 
 wouldn't be a scrap of our candidate left in a week's time, if we 
 made his name known now. The Marquis de Lagrifoul has be- 
 come quite out of the question. Monsieur de Bourdeu, who is 
 counting upon being a candidate, is still more so. We shall leave 
 them to destroy each other, and then, at the last moment, we 
 shall come forward. Just say that an election on purely political 
 ground would be much to be regx'etted, and that what is necessary 
 for the interests of Plassans is that some man should be chosen 
 who is not a party man, but one who has an intimate knowledge 
 of the needs of the town and the department. And you miy 
 let it be understood that such a man has been found ; but don't 
 go any further."
 
 276 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS, 
 
 The bishop uow smiled in his turn. He detained the priest 
 for a moment as he was about to take his leave. 
 
 " And the Abb6 Fenil 1 " he said, lowering his voice. " Are 
 you not afraid that he will do all he can to thwart your 
 plans 1 " 
 
 The Abbe Faujas shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 " He has made no sign at all," he said. 
 
 " It is exactly that quietness of his that makes me uneasy," 
 returned the prelate. " I know Fenil well. He is the most 
 vindictive priest in my diocese. He may possibly have aban- 
 doned the ambition of beating you in the political arena, but 
 you may be sure he will take a personal vengeance upon you. 
 I have no doubt he is keeping a watch over you in his re- 
 tirement." 
 
 " Pooh ! " said the Abbe Faujas, showing his white teeth. 
 " I'll take care he doesn't eat me up." 
 
 The Abbe Surin had just returned into the room, and when 
 the vicar of Saint-Saturnin's had gone, he made the bishop 
 laugh by exclaiming : 
 
 " If they could only eat each other up like a couple of foxes, 
 and leave nothing but their tails ! " 
 
 The electoral campaign was on the point of commencing. 
 Plassans, which generally remained quite calm and unexcited 
 by political questions, was beginning to get a little feverish and 
 perturbed. An invisible mouth seemed to be breathing war 
 through its quiet streets. The Marquis de Lagrifoul, who lived 
 at La Palud, a large straggling village in the neighbourhood, 
 had been on a visit for the last fortnight at the house of a re- 
 lative of his, the Corate de Valqueyras, whose mansion was one 
 of the largest in the district of St. Marc. He showed himself 
 about the town, promenaded in the Cours Sauvaire, attended 
 Saint-Saturnin's, and bowed to the influential townspeople, but 
 without succeeding in throwing aside his haiighty reserve. 
 These attempts at being affable and popular, which had once 
 been attended with success, now seemed to fail. Fresh charges 
 and accusations were bandied about every day, originating from 
 some unknown source. The marquis, it was asserted, was a 
 miserably incompetent man. With any other representative 
 than the marquis, Plassans would long ago have had a branch 
 line of railway connecting it with Nice ; and it was complained, 
 too, that if any one from the district went to see the marquis 
 in Paris, he had to call three or four times before he could
 
 THE CONQUEST OF TLASSANS. 277 
 
 obtain tlic slightest service. TliougU the caiKlidatnre of tiio 
 retiring deputy was much damaged by accusations of this kind, 
 no other candidate had openly entered the lists. There was 
 some talk of Monsieur de Bourdeu coming forward, though it 
 was considered that it woidd be extremely difficult to obtain a 
 majority in favour of this ex-prefect of Louis-Philippe, who had 
 no strong connection with the place. There seemed to be some 
 unknown influence at work in Plassans npsetting altogether 
 the previous prospects of success of the different candidatures 
 by breaking the alliance between the Legitimists and the Re- 
 publicans. The prevailing feeling was one of general perplexity 
 and confusion, mingled with weariness and a desire to get the 
 election htinied over as quickly as possible. 
 
 ** The majority is vacillating," said the politicians of the 
 Cours Sauvaire. " The question is which way will it finally 
 incline 1 " 
 
 In the excitement and restlessness which this doubtful state 
 of opinion was causing in the town, the Republican party were 
 anxious to run a candidate of their own. Their choice fell 
 upon a master hatter, one Maurin, a plain simple man, who 
 was much beloved by the working-men. In the cafes, in the 
 evenings, Trouche expressed an opinion that Maurin was too 
 colom-less and not sufficiently advanced in his views, and he 
 proposed in his stead a wheelwright of Lea Tulettes, whose 
 name had appeared in the list of the December prescripts, who, 
 however, had the good sense to decline the nomination. It 
 should be said that Trouche now gave himself out as an ex- 
 treme Republican. He would have come forward himself, he 
 said, if his wife's brother had not been a parson, but as he was, 
 to his great regi-et, he declared, forced to eat the bread of the 
 hypocrites, he felt bound to remain in the background. He 
 was one of tlie first to circulate the reports to the detriment of 
 the Maiquis de Lagrifoul, and he also favoured the rupture 
 with the Legitimists. Trouche's greatest success was obtained 
 by accusing the Sub-Prefecture party and the adherents of 
 J*lonsicur Rastoil of having caused the disappearance of poor 
 Mouret, with the view of depriving the democratic party of 
 one of their worthiest chiefs. The evening when he first launched 
 this accusation at a spirit-dealer's in the Rue Canquoin, the 
 company who were assembled there looked at one another with 
 a peculiar expression. The gossips of the old quarter of the 
 town spoke quite tenderly and feelingly about " the madman
 
 278 THE COXQTTEST OF PLASSANS. 
 
 who beat his wife," now that he Avas shut up in confinement, 
 and told each other that the Abbe Faujas had wanted to get 
 an inconvenient husband out of his way. Trouche repeated his 
 charge every evening, bringing down his fists upon the tables 
 of the cafes with such an air of conviction that he succeeded in 
 persuading his listeners of the truth of a story in which Mon- 
 sieur Pequenr des Saulaies played the most exti-aordinary part 
 imaginable. There was a complete reaction in Mouret's favour. 
 He was considered a political victim, a man whose influence 
 had been feared so much that 'he had been put out of the way 
 in a cell at Les Tulettes." 
 
 " Just leave it all to me," Trouche said with a confidential 
 air. " I will expose all these precious pious folks, and I will 
 tell some fine stories about their Home of the Virgin. It's a 
 nice place is the Home — a place where these ladies make their 
 assignations ! " 
 
 The Abbe Faujas almost seemed to have the power of multi- 
 plying himself. For some time past he was to be seen every- 
 where about the streets. He bestowed much attention upon 
 his appearance, and was careful always to have a pleasant smile 
 upon his face ; though now and then his eyelids drooped for an 
 instant and hid the stern fires of his glance. Often, his patience 
 quite worn out, and weary of his wretched daily struggles, he 
 returned to his bare room wdtli clenched fists and shoulders 
 heaving with his useless strength, and wished that he had some 
 colossus to cope with to soothe him. Old Madame Eougon, 
 whom he continued to see in secret, was his good genius. She 
 lectured him soundly, and kept his tall form bent before her 
 on a low chair while she told him that he must strive to please, 
 and that he would ruin everything if he let the iron hand 
 appear from under the velvet glove. Afterwards, when he had 
 made himself master, he might seize Plassans by the throat 
 and strangle it, if he liked. She herself had certainly no great 
 aflfection for Plassans, against which she owed a grudge for 
 forty years of wretchedness, and which had been bursting with 
 jealousy of her ever since the Coup d'Etat. 
 
 " It is I who wear the cassock," she said sometimes, with a 
 smile; "you carry yourself just like a gendarme, my dear 
 vicar." 
 
 The priest showed himself especially assiduous in his attend- 
 ance at the Young Men's Club. He listened with an indulgent 
 air to the young men talking politics, and told them, with a
 
 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 27!) 
 
 shake of his head, that honesty was all that was uecossary. 
 His popularity was still increasing. One evening lie consented 
 to play at billiards, and he showed himself extremely skilful at 
 the game, and, when they were sitting in a quiet little party, he 
 would even accept a cigarette. The club took his advice in 
 every question that arose. His reputation for tolerance was 
 completely established by the kind, good-natured way in wlsicli 
 he advocated the admission of Cuillaume Porquier, who had 
 renewed his application. 
 
 "I have seen the young man," he said ; "he came to me to 
 make a general confession, and I ended by giving him alisolution. 
 There is forgiveness for every sin. We must not treat him as 
 a leper, just because he has pulled down a few sign-boards in 
 Plassans, and has run into debt at Paris." 
 
 When Guillaume was elected, he said to the young Maffres, 
 with a grin : 
 
 " Well, you owe me a couple of bottles of champagne now. 
 You see that the vicar does all that I want. I have a little 
 machine to tickle him with in a sensitive place, and then he 
 begins to laugh, my boys, and he can't refuse me anything." 
 
 " Well, he doesn't seem as though he were very fond of you, 
 anyhow," said Alphonse ; "he looks very sourly at you." 
 
 " Pooh ! that's because I tickled him too hard. You will 
 see that we shall soon be the best friends in the world." 
 
 The Abbe Faujas did, indeed, seem to have an affection for 
 the doctor's son. He said that this poor young man wanted 
 guiding by a very gentle hand. In a short time Guillaume 
 became the moving-spirit of the club. He invented amusements, 
 showed them how to make punch with kirsch-water, and led 
 the young fellows fresh from college into all sorts of dissipation. 
 His pleasant vices gave him an enormous influence. While the 
 organ was pealing over the top of the billiard-room, he drank 
 away, and gathered round him the sons of the most reputable 
 people in Plassans, and made them almost choke with laughter 
 at his broad stories. The members of the club now got into 
 the way of indulging in doubtful topics of conversation in the 
 corners of the rooms. The Abbe Faujas appeared quite uncon- 
 scious of it. Guillaume said that he had a splendid noddle, 
 teeming with the greatest thoughts. 
 
 " The Abbe may be a bishop whenever he likes," he said. 
 " He has already refused a living in Paris. He wants to stay 
 at Plassans; he has taken a lilving to the place. I should
 
 280 THE COXQUEST OF TLASSANS. 
 
 like to nominate him as deputy. He's the sort of man we 
 want in the Chamber ! Bat he would never consent ; he is 
 too modest. But it would be a good thing to take his advice 
 when the elections are at hand. We may trust anything that 
 he tells lis. He wouldn't deceive anyone." 
 
 Lucien Delangre remained the serious man of the club. He 
 showed great deference to the Abbe Faujas, and he won the 
 group of studious young men over to the priest's side. He 
 frequently walked with him to the club, talking to him with 
 much animation, but subsiding into silence as soon as they 
 entered the general room. 
 
 On leaving the cafe which had been established beneath tne 
 Church of the Minimes, the Abbe used to go regularly to the 
 Home of the Virgin. He arrived in the middle of the play-time, 
 and made his appearance with a smiling face upon the steps of 
 the play-ground. Then all the young girls surrounded him, and 
 disputed with each other for the possession of his pockets, in 
 which were always to be found some sacred pictures or chaplets 
 or medals that had been blessed. These big girls quite 
 worshipped him as he tapped them gently on their cheeks 
 and told them to be good, at which their bold faces broke out 
 into sly smiles. The sisters often complained to him that the 
 children confided to their care were quite unmanageable, and 
 that they fought and tore each other's hair, and did even 
 worse things than this. The Abbe, considering these offences 
 as mere peccadilloes, reproved the more turbulent girls in the 
 chapel, from which they came out in a more submissive frame 
 of mind. Occasionally he made some graver piece of mis- 
 conduct a pretext for sending for the parents, whom he sent 
 away again quite touched by his kindness and good-nature. 
 The young scapegraces of the Home of the Virgin, in this way, 
 gained him the hearts of the poor families of Plassans. When 
 they went home in the evening, they told the most wonderful 
 things about his reverence the vicar. It was no unconmion 
 occurrence to coine across a couple of them in some secluded 
 corner of the ramparts just about coming to blows to decide 
 the question as to which of the two of them his reverence 
 liked the better. 
 
 " These young hussies represent from two to three thousand 
 votes," Trouche thought to himself, as he watched, through 
 the window of his office, the Abbe Faujas showing himself so 
 amiable.
 
 Till'] CONQUEST OF TLASRANR. 2S1 
 
 TroiTche himself had tried to w'm over " the little dears," as 
 he called the young girls; but the priest, mistrusting his 
 glistening eyes, had strictly forbidden him to set foot in the 
 play-gi'Oimd ; and so he now confined himself to throwing sugar- 
 plums to "the little dears," when the sisters' backs were 
 tiu-ned, just as though he were throwing crumbs to so many 
 sparrows. There was one tall, fair girl, the daughter of a 
 tanner, who, though she was only thirteen, had already got 
 the shoulders of a fully developed woman, whose apron he was 
 especially careful to load with sweets. 
 
 The Abba's day's work did not end at the Home of the 
 Virgin. From thence he went to pay a series of short visits 
 to the fashionable ladies of Plassans. Madame Eastoil and 
 Madame Delangre welcomed him with expressions of delight, and 
 repeated his slightest words, and provided themselves with 
 topics for a whole week's conversation from his visit. But his 
 great friend was Madame de Condamin. She maintained an 
 air of easy familiarity towards him, the superiority of a beautiful 
 woman who is conscious that she is all-powerful. She spoke 
 occasional sentences in low tones, and accompanied them with 
 meaning smiles and glances, which seemed to tell of some secret 
 understanding between them. When the priest came to see 
 her, she dismissed her husband with a look. " The government 
 was going to hold a cabinet-council," as the conservator of 
 rivers and forests said, playfully, as he philosophically went off 
 to mount his horse. It was Madame Rougon who had brought 
 Madame de Condamin to the priest's notice. 
 
 " She has not yet absolutely established her position here," 
 Madame Rougon explained to the Abbe Faujas. " There is a 
 great deal of cleverness under those pretty, coquettish airs of 
 hers. You can take her into your confidence, and she will see 
 in your triumph a means of her own complete success and 
 power. She will be of great use to you if you should find it 
 necessary to give away places or crosses. She has retained an 
 influential friend in Paris, who sends her as many red ribbons 
 as she asks for." 
 
 As Madame Rougon kept herself aloof from reasons of deep 
 diplomacy, the fair Octavie had thus become the Abb6 Faujas's 
 most active ally. She won over to his side her frien-ls and her 
 friends' friends. She set off into the country every morning 
 and exerted an astonishing amount of influence merely by the 
 jileasant little waves of her delicately gloved fingers. Slie had
 
 282 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 
 
 especial success with the townswomen, and she increased ten- 
 fold that feminine influence of which the priest had felt the 
 absolute necessity as soon as ever he had begun to go about in 
 the narrow world of Plassans. She succeeded, too, in closing 
 the mouths of the Paloques, who were growing very rabid about 
 the state of aftairs at the Mourets', by throwing a honied cake 
 to the two monsters. 
 
 " Ah ! do 3^ou still bear us a grudge, my dear lady ? " she 
 said one day, as she met the judge's wife. " It is very wrong 
 of you. Your friends liave not forgotten you, thej' are think- 
 ing about you and are preparing a surprise for you." 
 
 " A fine surprise, I'll be bound ! " cried ]\Iadame Paloque, 
 bitterly. " No, we are not going to allow ourselves to be 
 laughed at again, and I have firmly made up my mind to keep 
 myself to ni}" own affairs." 
 
 Madame de Condamin smiled. 
 
 " What would you say," she asked, " if Monsieur Paloque were 
 to be decorated 1 " 
 
 The judge's wife stared in silence. A rush of blood to her 
 face turned it quite blue, and made her terrible to be- 
 hold. 
 
 " You are joking," she stammered. ** This is only another 
 sally against us — If it isn't true, I'll never forgive you." 
 
 The fair Octavie swore that she had spoken nothing but the 
 truth. The distinction would certainly be conferred upon him, 
 but it would not be officially notified in the "Mouiteur" until after 
 the elections, as the government did not want to appear to be 
 buying the support of the magistrac3\ She also hinted that 
 the Abbe Faujas was not lui concerned in the bestowal of this 
 lono- desired reward, and said that he had talked about it to 
 the sub-prefect. 
 
 " My husband was right, then," exclaimed Madame Paloque, 
 in great surprise. " For a long time past he has been worrying 
 me dreadfully to go and apologise to the Abbe. But I am very 
 obstinate, and I would have let myself be killed sooner. But 
 since the Abbe makes the first move — well, we ask for nothing 
 more than to live at peace with everyone. We will go to the 
 Sub-Prefecture tomorrow." 
 
 The next day the Paloques were very humble, Madame 
 Paloque accused the Abbe Fenil of the blackest conduct and 
 with consummate impudence she related how she had gone to 
 see him one day, and how he had spoken in her presence of
 
 THE CONQUEST OF ]'LASSANS. 283 
 
 turning " tlie whole of the Abbe Faujas's clique" neck-and crop 
 out of Plassans. 
 
 "If you like," she said to the priest, taking him aside, "I 
 will give you a note written at the vicar-general's dictation. 
 It concerns you. He tried, I believe, to get several discredit- 
 able stories inserted in the ' Plassans Gazette.' " . 
 
 " How did this note come into your hands 1 " asked the Abbe. ' 
 
 "Well, it's sufficient that it is there," she replied, without 
 any sign of embarrassment. 
 
 Then, with a smile, she continued : 
 
 " I found it. I recollect, by the way, that there are two or 
 three words written over an erasure in the vicar-general's own 
 hand. I may trust to your honour in all this, may I not? We 
 are upright, honest people, and we don't want to compromise 
 ourselves." 
 
 She pretended to be affected by scruples for three days be- 
 fore bringing him the note ; and Madame de Coudamin was 
 obliged to assure her privately that an application to have 
 Monsieur Rastoil pensioned off would shortly be made, so that 
 her husband could succeed to tlie vacant presidency. Then she 
 gave up the paper. The Abbe Faujas did not wish to keep it him- 
 self and he took it to Madame Rougon, and he charged her to 
 make use of it, keeping herself, however, strictly in the background, 
 if the vicar-general showed the slightest sign of interfering in 
 the elections. 
 
 Madame de Condamin also dropped a hint to Monsieur Mafifre 
 that the Emperor was thinking about decorating him, and she 
 made a formal promise to Doctor Porquier to find a suitable 
 place for his good-for-nothing son. She showed the most 
 obliging kindliness in the friendly afternoon meetings in the 
 gardens. The summer was drawing to a close, but she came 
 in light toilettes, shivering slightly and risking taking cold, 
 to show her arms and overcome the last scruples of the Rastoil 
 party. It was really under the Mourets' arbour that the 
 election was decided. 
 
 " Well, my dear sub-prefect," said the Abbe Faujas one 
 day with a smile, as the two sets of guests were mingling to- 
 gether ; " the great battle is drawing near." 
 
 They had now arrived at discussing the political struggle in 
 a quiet and friendly way. In the gardens at the back of the 
 houses they grasped each other's hands, while in front of them 
 they still continued to keep up the appearance of hostility.
 
 284 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 
 
 ]\radamc de Condamin cast a quick glance at Monsieur Pequeur 
 des Saulaies, who bent forward with his habitual elegance and 
 said all in a breath : 
 
 " I shall remain in my tent, your reverence. I have been 
 fortunate enough to make his excellency understand that it is the 
 duty of the government, in the immediate interest of Plassans, 
 to hold itself aloof. There will not be any official candidate." 
 
 Monsieur de Bourdeu turned pale. His eyelids quivered and 
 his hands trembled with joy. 
 
 " There won't be any official candidate 1 " cried Monsieiu" 
 Rastoil, greatly moved by this unexpected news, and breaking 
 out of the reserve which he generally maintained. 
 
 " No," replied Monsieur Pequeur des Saulaies: "the town 
 contains a sufficiently great number of honourable men and is 
 developed enough to make its own choice of a representative." 
 
 He bowed slightly tow-ards Monsiem' de Bourdeu, who rose 
 from his seat, and stammered out : 
 
 " Undoubtedly, undoubtedly." 
 
 The Abbe Surin had got up a game of " hot and cold ; " and 
 Monsieur Rastoil's daughters and Monsieur Maffre's sons and 
 Severin were busy himting for the Abbe's handkerchief which 
 he had rolled up into a lump and hidden. All the yoimg 
 people were flitting about the group of grave elders while the 
 priest called out in his falsetto tones : 
 
 "Hot! Hot!" 
 
 Angelique at length found the handkerchief in Doctor Por- 
 quier's gaping pocket, where the Abb6 Surin had adroitly 
 slipped it. They all laughed and considered the selection of 
 this hiding-place as a very ingenious joke. 
 
 " Bourdeu has a chance now," said Monsieur Rastoil, taking 
 the Abbe Faiijas aside. " It is very annoying. I can't tell 
 him so, but we shall not vote for him ; he has compromised 
 himself too much as an Orleanist." 
 
 " Just look at your son Severin ! " cried Madame de Con- 
 damin, interrupting the conversation. "What a great baby he 
 is ! He put the handkerchief under the Abbe Bourrette's hat." 
 
 Then she lowered her voice as she continued : 
 
 " By the way, I have to congratulate you. Monsieur Rastoil. 
 I have received a letter from Paris, from a correspondent who 
 tells me that he has seen your son's name upon an official list. 
 He will be nominated deputy public prosecutor at Faverolles, I 
 believe."
 
 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 2S5 
 
 The president bowed with a tiushed (ace. The minister had 
 never forgiven the election of the Marquis dc LagrifouL .Since 
 that event a kind of fatality seemed to . prevent him linding a 
 place for his son or marrying his daughters. He had never 
 uttered any complaints, but his compressed lips had often 
 borne witness to his feelings on the matter. 
 
 "I was remarking to you," he resvmied, to conceal his 
 emotion, " that Bourdeu is dangerous. But he isn't a Plassans 
 man and he doesn't know our requirements. We might just as 
 well re-elect the marquis." 
 
 "If Monsieur de Bourdeu persists in his candidature," re- 
 joined the Abbe Faujas, " the republicans will poll an impos- 
 ing minority, which will have a very bad effect." 
 
 Madame de Condamin smiled. She pretended to understand 
 nothing about politics and she slipped away while the Abbe 
 drew the president aside to the end of the arbour, where he 
 continued the conversation in subdued tones. As they slowly 
 strolled back again. Monsieur Rastoil was saying : 
 
 " You are qiiite right. He would be a very suitable candi- 
 date. He belongs to no party, and we could all unite to sup- 
 port him. I am no fonder of the Empire than you are, but it 
 Avould be childish going on sending deputies to the Chamber 
 with no other purpose than to obstruct and rail at the govern- 
 ment. Plassans is suflTering from such tactics. What we want 
 is a man with a good head for business, a local man who can 
 look after the interests of the place." 
 
 " Hot ! Hot ! " cried Aurelie's fluty voice. 
 
 The Abbe Surin passed through the arbour at the head of 
 the searchers, hunting for the handkerchief. 
 
 " Cold ! Cold ! " now exclaimed the girl, laughing at the un- 
 successful searchers. One of the young Maffres, however, 
 lifted up a flower-pot and discovered the handkerchief folded iu 
 four. 
 
 " That great stick Aurelie might have very well crammed 
 it into her mouth," said Madame Paloque. " There is plenty 
 of room for it, and no one would ever have thought of looking 
 for it there." 
 
 Her husband reduced her to silence by an angry look. He 
 would no longer allow her to indulge in any bitter language. 
 Fearing that Monsieur de Condamin might have overheard her, 
 he exclaimed : 
 
 " What a handsome lot of young people ! "
 
 286 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 
 
 " Your success is certain, my dear sir," the conservator of 
 rivers and forests said to Monsieur de Bourdeu. " But be 
 carefid what you do when you get to Paris. I hear from a 
 very trustworthy source that the government has i-esolved upon 
 taking strong measures if the opposition shows itself too pro- 
 voking." 
 
 The ex-prefect looked at him very uneasily, wondering to 
 himself if he was making fun of him. Monsieur Pequeur des 
 Saulaies merely smiled, as he stroked his moustaches. Then 
 the conversation became general again, and Monsieur de Bour- 
 deu thought he could detect that everyone was congratulating 
 him upon his approaching triumph with a discretion that was 
 full of tact. He enjoyed the sweets of an hour's delightful 
 popularity. 
 
 " It is surprising how much more quickly the grapes ripen 
 in the sun," remarked the Abbe Bourrette, who had never 
 moved from his chair, with his eyes raised up to the arbour. 
 
 " In the north," Doctor Porquier explained, "the grapes can 
 often only be got to ripen by freeing them from the surround- 
 ing leaves." 
 
 They were beginning to discuss this fact, when Severin in his 
 turn, cried out : 
 
 " Hot ! Hot ! " 
 
 But he had h\ing the handkerchief with such little conceal- 
 ment upon the gardeia door that the Abbe Surin found it at 
 once. When the latter hid it again, the whole troop hunted 
 in vain about the garden for nearly half an hour, and at last 
 they gave it up. Then the Abbe showed them it lying quite 
 in the centre of a flower-bed, rolled up so artistically that it 
 looked like a white stone. This was the most effective 
 stratagem of the afternoon. 
 
 The news that the government had determined not to run a 
 candidate of its own quickly spread through the town, where 
 it gave rise to great excitement. This abstention had the 
 natural affect of disquieting the different political sections, who 
 had each been counting upon the diversion of a certain num- 
 ber of votes in favour of the official candidate enabling their 
 own man to be returned. The Marquis de Lagrifoul, Monsieur 
 de Bourdeu and the hatter Maurin appeared to divide the sup- 
 port of the voters pretty equally amongst them. There would 
 certainly be a second ballot, and heaven only could tell which 
 name would come at tlie top. There was certainly some talk of a
 
 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 287 
 
 fourth caudidate, -whose name nobody quite knew, some 
 moderate equable man who would possibly bring the different 
 parties into concord and harmony. The Plassans electors, who 
 had grown a little alamied since they had felt the bridle about 
 their necks, would have been only too glad to come to an un- 
 derstanding amongst themselves, and choose one of their 
 fellow-citizens who would be acceptable to all parties. 
 
 '• The government is wrong to treat us like refractory chil- 
 dren," the politicians of the Commercial Club said in tones of 
 annoynnce. " Anybody would suppose that the to-wn was a hot- 
 Ijed of revolutionism. If the administration had had the tact 
 to bring out the right sort of candidate, we should all have 
 voted for him. The sub-prefect has talked about a lesson. 
 "Well, we shall not receive the lesson. We shall be able to find 
 a candidate for ourselves, and we will show that Plassans is a 
 town of sound sense and true liberty." 
 
 They began to look about for their candidate. But the names 
 which were [)roposed by friends or interested parties only served 
 to increase the confusion. In a week's time there were twenty 
 candidates before Plassans. Madame Rougon, who had become 
 very uneasy, and was quite unable to understand her position, 
 went to see the Abbe Faujas, full of angry indignation against 
 the sub-prefect. That Pequeur was an ass, she cried, a fop, a 
 dummy, of no use except as a pretty ornament to the official 
 drawing-room. He had already allowed the government to be 
 defeated, and now he was going to compromise it by an attitude 
 of ridiculous indifference. 
 
 "Make yourself easy," said the priest, with a smile ; "this 
 time Monsieur Pequeur des Saulaies is confining himself to 
 obeying orders. Victory is certain." 
 
 " But you've got no candidate ! " cried Madame Rougon. 
 "Where is your candidate 1 " 
 
 Then the priest unfolded his plans to her. She expressed 
 her approval of them, and they commended themselves to her 
 intelligence ; but she received the name which lie confided to 
 her with the greatest surprise. 
 
 "What!" she exclaimed, "you have chosen that man! 
 No one has ever thought of him, I can assiu-e you." 
 
 " I trust that they haven't^" rejilied tlie priest, smiling again. 
 "We want a candidate of A\liom no one has thought, so that 
 all parties may accept him without fancying that they are com- 
 pi'omi.sing themselves "
 
 288 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 
 
 Then with tliu perfect fnuikuess of a shrewd man who has 
 made up his miud to explain his designs, he continued : 
 
 " I have very much to thauk you for. You have prevented 
 me making many mistakes. I was looking straight towards 
 the goal, and I did not see the strings that were stretched 
 across the path, and which might, perhaps, have tripped me 
 up and brought me to grief. Thank heaven ! all this petty 
 childish struggle is over, and I shall be able to move at my 
 ease. As for the choice I have made, it is a good one ; you 
 may feel quite assured of that. Ever since the day of my 
 arrival in Plassans, I have been looking about for a man, and 
 he is the only one I have found. He is flexible, very ca[)able, 
 and very energetic. He has been clever enough not to embroil 
 himself with a single person in the place, which is no common 
 accomplishment. I know that you are not a very great friend 
 of iiis, and tliat is the reason that I have not confided my plan 
 to you sooner. But you will see that you are mistaken, and 
 that he will rapidly make his way as soon as he gets his foot 
 into the stirrup, and he will die in a senator's robe. What has 
 finally determined me in his favour is what I have heard about 
 his means. It is said that he has taken his wife back again 
 thiee separate times, after she had been detected in actual 
 luifaithfulness, and after he had made his good-natured father- 
 in-law pay him a hundred thousand francs on each occasion. 
 If he has really coined money in this way, he will be very 
 useful in Paris in certain matters. You may look about as 
 much as you like ; but putting him aside, there is nothing 
 else but a pack of imbeciles in Plassans." 
 
 " Then it is a present you are making to the government 1 " 
 said Felicite, with a laugh. 
 
 She allowed herself to be quite convinced. The next day 
 the name of Delangre was in everybody's mouth. His friends 
 said that it was only after the strongest pressure had been 
 brought to bear upon him that he had accepted the nomination. 
 He had refused it for a longtime, considering himself unworthy 
 of the position, and insisting that he was not a politician, and 
 that Monsieur de Lagrifoul and JNIonsieur de Bourdeu had had, 
 on the other hand, long experience of public affairs. Then, 
 wheti it had been impressed upon him that what Plassans 
 urgently needed was a representative who was unconnected 
 with the political parties, he had allowed himself to be prevailed 
 upon, but he explicitly declaimed the principles upon which he
 
 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSAXS. 2SiJ 
 
 should act if he were returned. It must be thorougldy umlcr- 
 stood, he said, that he would not go to the Chamber eitlier to 
 oppose or support the government under all circumstances ; 
 that he should look upon himself only as the representative of 
 the interests of the town, and that he would always vote for 
 liberty with order, and order with liberty, and that he shovild 
 still remain mayor of Plassans, so that he might have a good 
 opportunity of manifesting the conciliatory and purely adminis- 
 trative part with which he had charged himself. These 
 expressions of his views struck people as being singularly 
 sensible. The knowing politicians of the Commercial Club vied 
 with each other that same evening in lauding him. 
 
 " I told you so ; Delangre is the very man w^e want. I shall 
 be curious to see what the sub-prefect will have to say when 
 the mayor's name heads the list. They can scarcely accuse us 
 of having voted like a lot of sulking school-boys, any more than 
 they can reproach us with having gone down on our knees be- 
 fore the government. If the Empire could only receive a few 
 lessons like this, things would go much better." 
 
 The whole thing was like a train of gun-powder. The mine 
 was laid, and a spark had been sufficient to set it off. In every 
 part simultaneously, in the three quarters of the town, in every 
 house, and in every family. Monsieur Delangre's name was 
 sounded in the midst of unanimous eulogies. He had become 
 the expected Messiah, the saviour, who was unknown the 
 previous day, but who had been revealed in the morning, and 
 worshipped ere night 
 
 In the recesses of the sacristies and confessionals, Monsieur 
 Delangre's name was buzzed about, and it mingled with the 
 echoes in the nave, sounded from the pulpits in the suburbs, 
 and was passed on from ear to ear like a sacrament, and made 
 its way into the most distant homes of the pious. The priests 
 carried it about with them in the folds of their cassocks; the 
 Abb6 Bourrette afforded it the respectable cheeriness of his belly, 
 the Abb6 Surin, the grace of his smile, and Monseigneur 
 Piousselot, the quite feminine charm of his pastoral benediction. 
 The fashionable ladies were never tired of talking of Monsieur 
 Delangre. He had such a kind disposition, they said, and such 
 a fine sensible face. Madame Rastoil learned to blush again, 
 and Madame Paloquc grew almost pretty in her entluisiasm, 
 and as for Madame de Condamin, she would have fought with 
 her fan for him, and she won all hearts for him by the tender 
 
 T
 
 2n0 THE CONQUEST OF TLASSAXS. 
 
 way in which slie pressc;! the hands of the electors who jiromiscd 
 to vote for him. The Young Men's Chib, too, grew passionately 
 enthusiastic on his behalf. Severin made quite a hero of him, 
 and Cuillaume and the young Maflfres went canvassing for him 
 in the disreputable parts of the town. 
 
 On the day of the election the majority was overwlielming. 
 All the town seemed to have conspired together. The Marquio 
 de Lagrifoul, and subsequently Monsieur de Bourdcu, bursting 
 Avith angry indignation and crying out that they had been 
 betrayed, had retired from the contest, and Monsieur Delangre 
 then remained witli no other opponent tlian the hatter Manrin. 
 The latter received the votes of some fifteen hundred intract- 
 able Republicans of tlie outskirts of the town. The mayor had 
 t!ie support of the country districts, the Bonapartist section, 
 the townsmen of the new quarter who were amenable to 
 clerical influence, the small timid shopkeepers of the old town, 
 and even of certain simple-minded Royalists in the district of 
 Saint-^Iarc, the aristocratic denizens of which abstained from 
 voting. Monsieur Delangre thus succeeded in obtaining thirty- 
 three thousand votes. The business was managed so promptly, 
 and the victory was won so merrily, that Plassans felt quite 
 amazed, on the evening of the election, to find itself so unani- 
 mous. The town half fancied that it had just had a wonder- 
 ful dream, that some powerful hand must have struck the soil 
 and caused to spring out from it those thirty-three thousand 
 electors, that army, almost alarming in its numbers, whose 
 strength no one had ever before suspected. The politicians of 
 the Commercial Club looked at one another in perplexity, like 
 men dazed with victory. 
 
 In the evening, Monsieur Rastoil's friends joined those of 
 Monsieur Pequeur des Saulaies, to quietly congratulate each 
 other, in a little drawing-room at the Sub-Prefecture, overlook- 
 ing the gardens. Tea was served to them. The great victory 
 of the day ended by causing the two parties to coalesce into 
 one. All the regular guests were present. 
 
 " I have never systematically opposed any government," 
 said Monsieur Rasteil, after a time, as he took the little cakes 
 which Monsieur Pequeur des Saulaies handed to him. " The 
 judicial bench ought to take no part in political struggles. I 
 willingly admit that the Empire has already accomplished 
 great things, and that it has a still nobler future before it, if it 
 continues to advance in the paths of justice and liberty."
 
 THE CONQUEST OF TLASSANS. 291 
 
 The sub-prefect bowed, as though this eulogy was addressed 
 to himself personally. The previous evening, Monsieur Rastoil 
 had read in the " Moniteur" the decree appointing his son 
 assistant public prosecutor at Faverolles. There was also a 
 good deal of talk about a marriage between his eldest daughter 
 and Lucicn Delangre. 
 
 " Oh, yes ! it is quite settled," Monsieur de Condamin said 
 in low tones to Madame Paloque, who had just been question- 
 ing him upon the subject. "He has chosen Angcline. I 
 believe that he would rather have had Aurelie, but it has 
 probably been hinted to him that it would not be seemly for 
 the younger sister to be married before the elder one." 
 
 "Angeline! Arc you quite surcV Madame Paloque mur- 
 mured maliciously. " I fancy that Angcline has a likeness — " 
 
 The conservator of rivers and forests put his finger to his 
 lips, with a smile. 
 
 "Vv'cll, it's just a toss-up, isn't itl" she continued. "It 
 will strengthen the ties between the two families. We are all 
 good friends now. Paloque is expecting his cross, and I am 
 quite satisfied with everything." 
 
 Monsieur Delangre did not an'ive till late. He was received 
 with a perfect ovation. Madame de Condamin had just in- 
 formed Doctor Porquicr that his son Guillaume had been 
 nouunated chief clerk at the post-office. She was circulating 
 good news through the room, and said that the Abb^ Bourrctte 
 would be his lordship's vicar-gencral the following year ; and 
 she asserted that the AV)b^ Surin would be a bishop before he 
 was forty, and she announced that Monsiexu- Maffre was to 
 have a cross. 
 
 " Poor Bourdeu ! " exclaimed Monsieur Rastoil, with a last 
 sigh of regret. 
 
 "Oh, there's no occasion to pity him!" cried Madame de 
 Condamin, gaily. " 1 will undertake to console him. He is 
 not cut out for the Chamber. What he wants is a prefecture. 
 Tell liim that he shall have one before very long." 
 
 The merriment increased. The fair Octavie's high spirits, 
 and the desire which she showed to please everybody, delighted 
 the company. It was really she who was doing the honoiu's of 
 the Sub-Prefecture. She was the queen of the place. And, 
 while she seemed to be speaking quite playfully, she gave 
 Monsieur Delangre the most practical advice about the part he 
 was to play in the Corps Legislatif. She took him aside and
 
 292 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 
 
 offered to introduce him to several influential people, an offer 
 which he gratefully accepted. About eleven o'clock, Monsieur 
 de Condamin suggested that the garden should be illuminated, 
 but his wife calmed the enthusiasm of the gentlemen, and said 
 that such a course would be inadvisable, and that it would not 
 do to appear to be exulting over the town. 
 
 " Well, what about the Abbe Fenil 1 " she asked suddenly of 
 the Abb6 Faujas, as she took him aside into one of the win- 
 dow recesses. " He has not made any movement, has he 1 " 
 
 " The Abbe Fenil is a man of sense," the priest replied, with 
 a slight smile. " It has been hinted to him that he would do 
 well not to interfere in political matters for the future." 
 
 In the midst of all the triumphant joy, the Abbe Faujas re- 
 mained grave and serious. He had won after a hard fight. 
 Madame de Condamin's chatter wearied him; and the satis- 
 faction of these people, with their poor vulgar ambitions, filled 
 him with disdain. As he stood leaning against the mantel- 
 piece, with a far-off look in his eyes, he seemed to be buried in 
 thought. He was master now, and he was no longer under 
 the necessity of veiling and suppressing his real feelings. He 
 could reach out his hand and seize the town, and make it 
 tremble in his grasp. His tall, black figure seemed to fill the 
 room. The guests gradually drew their chairs closer to him, 
 and formed a circle round him. The men awaited some ex- 
 pression of satisfaction from him; and the women besought 
 him with their eyes, like submissive slaves. But he bluntly 
 broke through the circle and went away the first, saying only 
 a brief word or two as he took his leave. 
 
 When he returned to the Mourets' house, going by way of the 
 Chevillottes alley and the garden, he found Marthe alone in the 
 dining-room, sitting listlessly on a chair against the wall, look- 
 ing very pale and gazing with a blank expression at the lamp, 
 the wick of which was beginning to char. Upstairs, Trouche 
 was having a party, and he coiild be heard singing a_ broad 
 comic song, which Olympe and the guests accompanied by 
 striking their glasses with the handles of their knives.
 
 293 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 The Abbe Faujas laid his band on Marthe's shoulder. " What 
 are you doing hero ] " he asked. " Why haven't you gone to 
 bed ] I told you that you were not to wait for me." 
 
 She started up and stammered : 
 
 " I thought you would be back much earlier than tliis. I 
 fell asleep. I daresay Rose will have got some tea ready." 
 
 The priest called for the cook and rated her for not having 
 made her mistress go to bed. He spoke in authoritative tones 
 that admitted of no reply. 
 
 " Bring the tea for his reverence, Rose," said Marthe. 
 
 " No, I don't want any tea," the priest said with a show of 
 vexation. " Go to bed immediately. It is absurd. I can 
 scarcely control myself. Show me a light, Rose." 
 
 The cook went with him as far as the foot of the staircase. 
 
 " Your reverence knows that I am not to blame," she said. 
 " Madame is very strange. Ill as she is, she can't stop for a 
 single hour in her room. She can't keep herself from coming 
 and going up and down, and fidgetting about merely for the 
 sake of being on the move and for no other reason. She puts 
 me out quite as much as anyone else ; she is always in my way, 
 preventing me from getting on with anything. Then she drops 
 down on a chair and sits staring in front of her with a terrified 
 look, as though she were seeing some horrible sight. I told 
 her half a score of times at least, to-niglit, that you would be 
 very angry with her for not going to bed ; but she didn't even 
 seem to hear what I was saying." 
 
 The priest went upstairs without saying anything in reply. 
 As he passed the Trouclies' room he reached out his arm as 
 tliough he were going to strike his fist against the door. But 
 the singing had stopped, and he could hear from the sounds 
 within tliat the visitors were about to take their departure, so
 
 2!)4 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 
 
 he quickly stepped into his own room. Almost immediatuly 
 afterwards Trouche went downstairs with a couple of men 
 whom he had picked up in some low cafe, and he cried out on 
 the staircase that he knew how to behave himself and that he 
 was going to see them home. Olympe bent her head over the 
 balustrade. 
 
 " You can fasten the doors," she said to Rose. " He won't 
 be back before to-morrow morning." 
 
 Rose, from whom she had not been able to conceal her 
 husband's misconduct, expressed much pity for her. As she 
 fastened the doors, she growled : 
 
 " What a fool a woman is to get married] Their husbands 
 either beat them or go off after drabs. For my part, I'd very 
 much rather keep as I am." 
 
 When she went back into the dining-room, she found her 
 mistress sitting down and fallen again into a sort of melancholy 
 stupor, with her eyes fixed upon the lamp. She shook her and 
 made her go upstairs to bed. Marthe had become very timid. 
 During the night she said she saw great patches of light on the 
 walls of her room, and heard violent blows at the head of her 
 bed. Rose now slept near her, in a little dressing-room close 
 at hand, from which she hastened to calm her at the slightest 
 sound of uneasiness. On this night she had not finished un- 
 dressing herself before she heard Marthe groaning, and, on 
 rushing into her room, she found her lying in the midst of the 
 disordered bed-clothes, her eyes staring widely in mute horror, 
 and her clenched fists pressed closely against her mouth to 
 keep herself from crying out. Rose was obliged to talk to her 
 and soothe her as though she were a mere child, and was com- 
 pelled to look behind the curtains and under the furniture, and 
 assure her that she was mistaken and that there was really no 
 one there. These attacks of terror ended in cataleptic seizures 
 which laid her with her head lying on her pillow, and her eye- 
 lids rigidly opened as though she were dead. 
 
 " It is the thought of the master that is tormenting her," 
 Rose muttered to herself, as she at last got into bed. 
 
 The next day was one of the days when Doctor Porquier was 
 expected. He came regularly twice a week to see Madame 
 Mouret. He patted her hands and said to her with his amiable 
 optimism : 
 
 " Oh ! there will be nothing serious come of that, my dear 
 lady. You still cough a little, don't you ] Ah ! it's a mere
 
 THi'J CONQtTEST OF PLASSANS. 2;);T 
 
 culd which has been neglectc^lj but which we will cure \siih 
 syrups." 
 
 Marthe then complained to him of intolerable pains in her 
 back and chest, keeping her eyes fixed keenly ujiou him, and 
 trying to discover from bis face an*d manner what he would not 
 say in words. 
 
 " I am afraid of going mad 1 " she cried, breaking into a 
 
 sob. 
 
 The doctor smilingly reassured her. The sight of him 
 always caused her a keen anxiety, and she felt a sort of alarm 
 of this gentle and agreeable man. She often told Rose not to 
 let him come in, saying that she was not ill, and had no need to 
 have a doctor constantly coming to see her. Rose shrugged her 
 shoulders, and ushered the doctor into the room just the same 
 as before. He had almost ceased speaking to Marthe abont her 
 ailments, and he seemed now to be merely making friendly calls 
 upon her. 
 
 As he was going away, he met the Abbe Faujas, who was 
 returning from Saint-Saturnin's. The priest questioned him 
 as to Madame Mom-et's condition. 
 
 " Science is sometimes quite powerless," said the doctor 
 gravely, " but the goodness of Providence is inexhaustible. 
 The poor lady has been sorely shaken, but T don't altogether 
 give her up. Her chest is only slightly attacked as yet, and 
 the climate here is favourable." 
 
 Then he began a dissertation upon the treatment of diseases 
 of the chest in the neighbourhood of Plassans. He was prepar- 
 ing a pamphlet on the subject, not for publication, for he was 
 too shrewd to want to seem a savant, but for the perusal of a 
 few intimate friends. 
 
 " Such are my reasons," he said in conclusion, " for believing 
 that the equable temperature, the aromatic flora, and the 
 salubrious springs of our hills, arc extremely eficctive for the 
 cure of diseases of the chest." 
 
 'I'he priest had li.'>tened to him with his stern, silent ex- 
 pression. 
 
 " You arc mistaken," he said slowly, " Plassans does not 
 agree with Madame Mouret. Why not send her to pass the 
 winter at Nice]" 
 
 " At Nice 1 " repeated the doctor, uneasily. 
 
 He looked at the priest for a monieut, and then he continued 
 ill his complacent tones :
 
 296 THE CONQUEST OF ILASSANS. 
 
 " Nice certcainly would be very suitable for her. In her pre- 
 sent condition of nervous excitement, a change of siuToundings 
 would probably have very beneficial results. I must advise her 
 to make this journey. It is an excellent idea of yours, your 
 reverence." 
 
 He bowed, and parted from the Abbe, and made his way to 
 Madame de Condrm'n's, whose slightest headaches caused him 
 endless trouble and anxiety. At dinner, the next day, Marthe 
 spoke of the doctor in almost violent terms. She swore that she 
 would never allow him to visit her again. 
 
 " It is he who is making me iU," she exclaimed. " This very 
 afternoon he,has been advising me to go off on a journey." 
 
 " And I entirely agree with him iu that," declared the Abbe 
 Faujas, folding his napkin. 
 
 She fixed her eyes keenly upon him, and turned very pale as 
 she murmured in a low voice : 
 
 " What ! Do you then, too, want to send me away from 
 Plassans 1 Oh ! I should die in a strange land, far away from 
 all my old associations, and far away from those I love." 
 
 The priest had risen from his seat, and was just about to 
 leave the dining-room, He stepped towards her, and said with 
 a smile : 
 
 " Your friends have no other thought than for what is good 
 for your health. Why are you so rebellious 1 ''" 
 
 " Oh ! I don't want to go ! I don't want to go ! " she cried, 
 stepping back from him. 
 
 There was a short contest between them. The blood rushed 
 to the Abbe's cheeks, and he had crossed his arms, as though to 
 withstand a temptation to strike Marthe. She was leaning with 
 her back against the wall, and was holding herself at her full 
 height in despair at her weakness. Then, quite vanquished, she 
 fitretched out her hands, and stammered : 
 
 " I beseech you to allow me to remain here. I will do what- 
 ever you tell me." 
 
 Then, as she burst into sobs, the Abbe shrugged his shoulders 
 and left the room, like a husband fearing an outbreak of tears. 
 Madame Faujas, who was tranquilly finishing her dinner, had 
 witnessed this scene and continued eating. She let Marthe cry 
 on undisturbed. 
 
 " You are extremely unreasonable, my dear child," she said 
 after a time, helping herself to some more sweetmeats. " You 
 will end by making Ovide quite detest you. You don't know
 
 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 297 
 
 how to treat him. Why do you refuse to go away from home, 
 if it is necessary for your health 1 We would look after the 
 house for you, and you would find everything all right and in 
 its place when you came back." 
 
 Marthe was still sobbing, and did not seem to hear what 
 Madame Faujas was saying. 
 
 " Ovide has so much to think about," the old lady continued. 
 " Do you know that he often works till four o'clock in the morn- 
 ing 1 When you cough all through the night, it disturbs him 
 very much, and distracts his thoughts. He can't work any 
 longer, and he suffers more than you do. Do this for Ovidc's 
 sake, my dear child ; go away, and come back to us in good 
 health." 
 
 Th n Marthe raised her face, all red with weeping, and 
 thro\ ing all the anguish she was suffering into her cry, she 
 wailed out : 
 
 "Oh! Heaven lies!" 
 
 During the next few days no further pressure was brought to 
 bear upon Madame Mouret to make the journey to Nice. She 
 grew terribly excited at the least reference to it. She refused 
 to leave Plassans with such a show of desperate determination 
 that the priest himself recognised the danger of insisting upon 
 the scheme. In the midst of his triumph she was beginning to 
 cause him teiTible anxiety and embarrassment. Trouche said, 
 with his snigger, that it was she who ought to have been sent the 
 first to Les Tulettes. Ever since Mouret had been taken off, she 
 had secluded herself in the practice of the most rigid devotions, 
 and she constantly refrained from mentioning her husband's 
 name, praying that she might be rendered altogether torpid 
 and oblivious. But she still remained restless and unquiet, and 
 returned from Saint-Satumin's only with a keener longing for 
 forgetfulness than she had had when she went there. 
 
 " Our landlady is going it finely," Olympe said to her husband 
 when she came home in the evening. " I went with her to 
 church to-day, and I had to pick her up from the ground. You 
 would laugh if I told you all the things that she vomited out 
 against Ovide. She is quite furious with him, and says that he 
 has no heart, and that he has deceived her in promising her a 
 heap of consolations. And you should hear her rail, too, against 
 God x\hnighty Himself! Ah ! it's only your pious people who 
 talk so badly of religion ! Any one would think, to hear her, 
 that God had cheated her of a large sum of money. Do you
 
 298 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSA^'S. 
 
 know, I really believe that her husband comes and haunts Ltr 
 at nights." 
 
 Trouche was much amused at all this gossip. 
 
 " Well, she's herself to blame for that," he said. " If that 
 old joker Mouret is put away, it is her own doing. If I 
 were Faujas, I should know how to arrange matters, and I 
 v/ould make her as gentle and content as a sheep. But Faujas 
 is an ass, and you will see that he will make a mess of the 
 business. Your brother, my dear, hasn't shown himself suffi- 
 ciently pleasant to as for me to care to help him out of the 
 bother. I shall have a rare laugh the day our landlady makes 
 him take the plunge. Confound it all ! when one's made like 
 that, one oughn't to mix one's self up with a woman ! " 
 
 " Ovide certainly looks down upon us too much," Olympe 
 said. 
 
 'ilien Trouche continued in lower tones : 
 
 " I say, you know, if our landlady were to throw herself 
 down some well with your noodle of a brother, we should be 
 the masters, and the house would be ours. We should be able 
 to feather our nest nicely. It would be a splendid ending, 
 
 that ! " 
 
 Since Mouret's departure, tlie Trouches also had invaded the 
 ground-floor. Olympe had begun by complaining that the 
 chimneys upstairs smoked, and she had ended by persuading 
 Marthe that the drawing-room, which had been hitlicrto un- 
 occupied, was the healthiest room in the house. Rose was 
 ordered to light a big fire there, and the two women spent 
 their days there in endless talk, before the huge blazing logs. 
 It was one of Olympe's dreams to be able to live always like 
 this, handsomely dressed and lolling on a couch in the midst of 
 all the luxury of an elegantly furnished room. She persuaded 
 Marthe to have the drawing-room re-papered and to buy 
 some new furniture and a fresh carpet. Then she felt that 
 she was a lady. She came downstairs in lier slippers and 
 dressing-gown, and she talked as though she were the mistress 
 of the house. 
 
 "That poor Madame Mouret," she used to say, "has so 
 much worry that she has asked me to help her, and so 
 I devote a little of my time to assisting her. It is really a 
 kindness to do so." 
 
 She had, indeed, quite succeeded in winning the confidence 
 (J Marthe, who, from lassitude and weariness, handed over to
 
 THE CONQUEST OF ri^VSSANS. 299 
 
 her the petty details of the household management. It was 
 Oljmpe who kept the keys of the cellar and the cupboards, 
 and she paid the tradesmen's bills as well. She had been de- 
 liberating for a longtime as to how she should manage to make 
 herself equally free of the dining room. Trouche, however, 
 dissuaded her from attempting to carry out this design. They 
 would no longer, he said, be able to eat and drink just as they 
 liked, and they would not dare even to drink their wine un- 
 watcred, or to ask a friend to come and have coffee. Then 
 Olympe said that at any rate she would bring upstairs their 
 share of the dessert. She crammed her pockets with sugar and 
 she even carried oft' candle-ends. For this purpose, she had 
 made great pockets of canvas, which she fastened under her 
 skirt, and which it took her a good quarter of an hour to empty 
 every evening. 
 
 " There, there's something for a rainy day," she said, as she 
 bundled a stock of provisions into a box which she then pushed 
 under the bed. " If Yve should happen to faU out with our 
 landlady, we shall have something there to keep us going for a 
 time. I must bring up some pots of preserves and some salt pork." 
 " There is no need to make a secret of it," said Trouche. " If 
 I were you, I should make Rose bring them up, as you are the 
 mistress." 
 
 Trouche had made himself master of the garden. For a 
 long time past he had envied Mouret as he had watched him 
 pruning his trees, and gravelling his walks, and watering his 
 lettuces ; and he had indulged in a dream of one day having a 
 plot of ground of his own, where he might dig and plant as 
 he liked. So, now that Mouret was no longer there, he took 
 possession of the garden, with his head full of all kinds of 
 alterations and complete transformations. He began by con- 
 demning the vegetables. He had a delicate soul, he said, and 
 he loved flowers. But the labour of digging tired him out by 
 the second day, and a gardener was called in, who dug u]) tlic 
 beds under his directions, threw the vegetables on to the dung- 
 hill, and prepared the soil fur the reception, in the spring, of 
 pteunies and ruses and lilies, and for the sowing of larkspurs and 
 convolvulus, and for cuttings of geraniums and carnations. 
 Then an idea occurred to Trouche. It struck him that the 
 tall sombre edgings of box, which bordered the beds, gave thorn 
 a gloomy and mournful appearance, and he meditated for a 
 long time about pulling the box. up.
 
 300 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 
 
 " You are quite right/' said Olympe, whom he consulted on 
 the matter. " It makes the place look like a cemetery. For 
 my own part, I should much prefer an edging of cast-iron 
 branches made to resemble rough wood. I will persuade the 
 landlady to have it done. Anyhow pull up the box." 
 
 The box was accordingly pulled up. A week later the gar- 
 dener came and laid down the cast-iron edging. Trouche also 
 removed several fruit-trees which interfered with the view, had 
 the arbour painted afresh in a bright green, and ornamented 
 the fountain with rock-work. Monsieur Rastoil's cascade greatly 
 excited his envy, but he contented himself for the time by 
 choosing a place where he would construct a similar one, " if 
 everything went on all right." 
 
 " This will make our neighbours open their eyes," he said, in 
 the evening to his wife. " They will see that there is a man of 
 taste here now. In the summer, when we sit at the window, 
 we shall have a delightful view, and the garden will smell 
 deliciously." 
 
 Marthe let him have his own way and gave her consent to all 
 the plans that were submitted to her, and in the end they gave 
 over even consulting her. It was only Madame Faujas that 
 the Trouches had to contend with, and she continued to dispute 
 the house with them very obstinately. It was only after a 
 battle royal with her mother that Olympe had been able to 
 take possession of the drawing-room. Madame Faujas had all 
 but won the day on that occasion. It was the priest's doing 
 that she was not victorious. 
 
 " That hussy of a sister of yours says everything that is bad 
 of us to the landlady," Madame Faujas perpetually complained. 
 " I can see through her game. She Avants to supplant us and 
 to get everything for herself. She is trying to settle herself 
 down in the drawing-room like a fine lady, the slut ! " 
 
 The priest paid no attention to what his m-other said, and 
 only broke out into sharp gestures of impatience at her com- 
 plaints. One day he got quite angry and exclaimed : 
 
 " I beg of you, mother, to leave me in peace. Don't talk to 
 me any more about Olympe or Trouche. Let them go and 
 hang themselves, if they like." 
 
 "They are seizing the whole house, Ovide. They are perfect 
 rats. AVhen you want your share, you will find that they have 
 gnawed it all away. You are the only one that can keep them 
 in check."
 
 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 301 
 
 He looked at his mother with his slight smile. 
 
 "■ You love me very much, mother," he said, " and I forgive 
 you. Make your mind easy ; I want something very different 
 from the house. It is not mine, and I keep only what I gain. 
 You will be very proud when you see my share. Trouche has 
 been useful to me, and we must shut our eyes a little." 
 
 Madame Faujas was then obliged to beat a retreat; but 
 she did so with very bad grace, and was for ever gi'owling as 
 Olympe's triumphant laughter pursued her. The absolute dis- 
 interestedness of her son made her, with her material and baser 
 desires and careful economies, quite desperate. She would 
 have liked to lock the house up in safe keeping so that Ovide 
 might find it ready for his occupation and in pei-fect order when 
 he wanted it. The Trouches, with their grasping fingers, caused 
 her all the torment and despair of a miser who was being preyed 
 upon by strangers. She felt exactly as though they were w^ast- 
 ing her own substance and fattening upon her own flesh, and 
 were reducing herself and her beloved son to penury and 
 wretchedness. When the Abbe forbade her to oppose the 
 gradual invasion of the Trouches, she made up her mind that 
 she would at any rate save all she could from the hands of the 
 spoilers, and she began pilfering from the cupboards, just as 
 Olympe did. She, too, fastened big pockets underneath her 
 skii'ts, and she had a chest which she filled with all the tilings 
 that she collected together, provisions, linen, and various other 
 miscellaneous articles. 
 
 " What is that you are stowing away there, mother 1 " the 
 Abb^ asked one evening as he went into her room, attracted by 
 the noise which she was making in moving the chest. 
 
 She began to stammer out a reply, but the priest understood 
 it all at a glance, and flew into a violent rage. 
 
 " It is too shameful ! " he said. " You have turned yourself 
 into a thief, now ! What would the consequences be if you 
 were to be detected 1 I should be the talk of the whole town !" 
 
 " It is all for your sake, Ovide," slie murmured. 
 
 " A thief ! My mother is a thief ! Perhaps you think that 
 I thieve, too, that I have come here to plunder, and that my 
 only ambition is to lay my hands upon whatever I can ! Good 
 heavens ! what sort of an opinion have you formed of me 1 We 
 shall have to separate, mother, if we do not understand each 
 other better than this." 
 
 This spcccli quite crushed the old woman She had remained
 
 302 THE CONQUEST OF TLASSANS. 
 
 on her knees in front of the chest, and she fell down in a croncli- 
 ing position npon the floor, very pale and almost choking and 
 stretching out her hands heseechingly. When she was able to 
 speak again, she wailed ont : 
 
 " It is for your benefit, my child, for yours only, I swear. I 
 have told you before that they are taking everything; she 
 crams everything into her pockets. There will be nothing left 
 for you, not even a lump of sugar. But I won't take anything 
 more, since it makes you angry, and you will let me stay with 
 you, won't you 1 Yoii will keep me with you, won't 3'Ou 1 " 
 
 The Abb6 Faujas refused to make her any promises until she 
 liad restored everything she had taken to its place. For nearly 
 a week he himself siiperintended the secret restoration of the 
 contents of the chest. He watched his mother fill her pockets, 
 and waited till she came back upstairs again to take a fresh 
 load. For prudential reasons he allowed her to make only two 
 journeys backwards and forwards every evening. The old 
 woman felt as though her heart were breaking as she restored 
 each article to its former place. She did not dare to cry, but 
 her eyelids were swollen with tears of regret, and her hands 
 trembled even more than they had done when they were. ran- 
 sacking the cupboards. But what afflicted her more than any- 
 thing else was to see that as soon as s^he had restored each 
 article to its rightful position, Olympe followed in her steps 
 and took possession of it. The linen, the provisions, and the 
 candle-ends, merely changed from one pocket to another, 
 
 '* I won't take anything more downstairs," she exclaimed to 
 her son, growing rebellious at this unforeseen result of her re- 
 storations. " It isn't the least good, for your sister only walks 
 off" with everything directly I put it back. The hussy ! I might 
 just as well give her the chest at once ! She must have got a 
 nice little hoard together ! I beseech you, Ovlde, to let me keep 
 what still remains. Our landlady will be none the worse off for 
 it, because she will lose it anyhow." 
 
 " My sister is what she is," the priest replied tranquilly j 
 " but I wish my mother to be an honest woman. You will help 
 me much more by not committing such actions." 
 
 She was forced to restore everything, and from that time she 
 entertained a fierce hati'ed for the Trouches, for Marthe, and the 
 whole establishment, and she said that the day would come 
 when she should have to defend Ovide against everyone. 
 
 The Trouches were now reigning undisputedly. They com-
 
 THE CONQT^EST OF PL ASS A XS. 303 
 
 pleted the conquest of the hoiiso, and they made tlicir vrny Into 
 eveiy corner of it. The Abbe's own rooms were the on!/ ones 
 they respected. It was only before him that they trembled. 
 But the priest's presence in the house did not prevent them 
 from inviting their friends, and indulging in debauches which 
 were kept up till two o'clock in the morning. Guillaume Por- 
 quier came with parties of mere youths. Olj^mpe, notwith- 
 standing her thirty-seven years, simpered and put on girlish 
 airs, and more than one of the college lads squeezed very close 
 uj) to her, which made her ripple with delighted laughtc)-, as 
 though she were being tickled. The house was beeomi: g a 
 perfect paradise to her. Trouche sniggered and joked her \\ lien 
 they were alone together. 
 
 "Well," she said, quite tramquilly, "you have your little 
 amusements, haven't you ? We are both quite free to do as we 
 like, you know." 
 
 Troucho, had, as a matter of fact, all but brought to an ab- 
 laipt conclusion, the fat life he was living. One of the sisters 
 had caught him in the company of the daughter of a tanner, 
 the tall, fair, young girl, upon whom he had been casting lust- 
 ful eyes for a long time. The girl said that she was not the 
 only one, Ijut that others, too, had received gifts of sweetmeats. 
 The sister, who knew Trouche's relationship to the vicar of 
 Saint Saturnin's, had had the forethought not to say anything 
 about the matter, till she had seen the priest. He thanked 
 licr, and impressed upon her that the cause of religion would 
 suffer most by such a scandal. The affair was hushed up, and 
 the lady patronesses never had the least suspicion of it. The 
 Abbe FaujaS; however, had a ten-ible scene with his brother-in- 
 law, whom lie assailed in Olympe's presence, so that his wife 
 might have a weapon against him, and be able to keep him in 
 check. Ever since this revelation, whenevei- Trouche did any- 
 thing to annoy her, Olympe exclaimed sarcastically : 
 
 " (Jo and give the little girls some sugar-plums ! '" 
 
 They had been troubled for a long time past with anotlier 
 source of alarm. Notwithstanding the life of clover that they 
 were enjoying, and the fact that they were provided with every- 
 thing out of Marthe's cupboard, they had got terribly into debt 
 in the neighbourhood. Trouche squandered his salary away in 
 the caf<''3, and Olympe wasted the money which she dragged 
 out of Martlie's pockets by telling her some extraordinary story 
 or other, in indulging herself in all sorts of whims and fancies.
 
 304 THE CONQUEST OF TLASSANS. 
 
 All the necessaries of life they made a point of getting- upon 
 credit. There was one account which made them especially 
 uneasy, that of the pastry-cook in the line de la Bannc, which 
 amounted to more than a hundred francs, as the pastry-cook 
 was a rough, blunt sort of man, who threatened to lay the whole 
 matter belore the Abbe Faujas. The Trouches lived in a state 
 of perpetual alarm, and were constantly in fear of some dreadful 
 scene ; but when the bill was actually presented to him, the 
 Abbe Faujas paid it without a word, and even forgot to address 
 any reproaches to them on the subject. The priest seemed to 
 be above all these miserable little matters, and he went on liv- 
 ing a gloomy and rigid life in the house that was given up to 
 pillage, withovxt appearing conscious of the devouring teeth 
 which were gnawing the walls away, or the gradual ruin which 
 was falling upon it. Everything was crumbling away around 
 him, while he continued to advance straight towards the goal 
 of his ambition. He still camped like a soldier in his great 
 bare room, indulging himself in no comforts, and showing an- 
 noyance when any were attempted to be pressed upon him. 
 Since he had become the master of Plassaus, he had dropped 
 back into complete cai'elessness as to his appearance. His hat 
 was rusty, and his socks were dirty ; his cassock, which his 
 mother mended every morning, looked just like the pitiful, worn- 
 out and thread-bare rag which he had worn when he first came 
 to Plassaus. 
 
 " Pooh ! it is very good yet," he used to say, when anyone 
 hazarded a timid remark about it. 
 
 He displayed it in the streets, and walked about in it, carry- 
 ing his head loftily, and altogether unheeding the curious glances 
 which were cast at it. There was no bravado in the matter ; 
 he was simply following his natural inclinations. Now that he 
 believed he was no longer under any necessity to lay himself 
 out to please, he fell back into all his old disdain for mere 
 appearance. It was his triumph to sit himself down jiist as he 
 was, with his tall, clumsy body and rough, blunt maimer and 
 splitting clothes, in the midst of conquered Plassaus. 
 
 Madame de Condaniin, distressed by the strong smell which 
 breathed from his cassock, one day gently took him to task 
 about his appearance. 
 
 " Do you know," she said to him, laughingly, " that the 
 ladies are beginning quite to detest you ? They say that now 
 you never give yourself the least trouble over your toilet. Once
 
 TUE CONQUEST OF TLA^j.-jAXS. fOD 
 
 upon a time, when you took your luuui kerchief out of your 
 pocket, it was just as though there were a choir-boy swinging a 
 thurible behind you." 
 
 The priest looked greatly astonished. Ho was quite unaware 
 of any change in himself. Then ^ladame de Condamin, drawing 
 a little nearer to him, said in a friendly tone : 
 
 "Will you let me speak quite frankly to you, my dear vicar] 
 It is really a mistake on your part to be so negligent of your 
 appearance. You scarcely shave yourself, and you never comb 
 your hair ; it is as rough and disordered as thougli you had 
 been fighting. I can assure you that all this lias a very bad 
 effect. ^ladame Eastoil and Madame Delangre told me yester- 
 day that they could scarcely recognise you. You are really 
 compromising your success." 
 
 The priest began to laugh with a laugh of defiance, as he 
 shook his powerfid unkempt head. 
 
 " Now that the battle is won," he merely replied, " they must 
 put up with my hair being uncombed." 
 
 Plast-ans had, indeed, to put up with him with his hair un- 
 combed. The flexible priest was now transformed into a stern, 
 despotic master who bent all wills to his own. His face, which 
 had again become cadaverous iu its appearance, shone with eyes 
 like an eagle's, and he raised his big hands as though they were 
 filled with threats and chastisements. The town was positively 
 terrified on beholding the master they had imposed upon them- 
 selves swelling out thus inordinately with his shaliby, unclean 
 clothing and strong odour and unkempt hair. The suppressed 
 alarm of the women tended to strengthen still further his power. 
 He was stern and harsh to his penitents, but not one of them 
 <lared to leave him, and they came to him in fear and tremb- 
 ling, iu which they found some touch of painful pleasure. 
 
 " 1 was wrong, my dear," Madame de Condamin confessed to 
 Marthe, " in wanting him to perfume liimself. I am growing 
 accustomed to him, and I even prefer him as he is. He is 
 indeed a man ! " 
 
 The Abbe Faujas was supreme at the bishop's. Since the 
 elections he had left Monseigncur Rousselot only a show of 
 authority. The bishop lived in his study in the midst of his 
 beloved books, where the Abbe, who administered the diocese 
 from an adjoining room, virtually kept him a prisoner, allowing 
 him to see only those persons whom he could fully trust. The 
 clergy trembled before this absolute master. The old whitc- 
 
 17
 
 306 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 
 
 hecaded priests bent themselves before him \vith their ecclesias- 
 tical humility and surrender of all will of their own. Often 
 Monsiegneur Rousselot, when he was alone with the Abbe Surin, 
 wept great, silent tears. He regretted the impetuous mastery 
 of the Abbe Fenil, who had, at any rate, intervals of affectionate 
 softness, while now, under the Abbe Faujas's rule, he felt him- 
 self crushed down beneath a relentless and ceaseless pressure. 
 Then he would smile again and resign himself, saying with a 
 sort of pleasant self-satisfaction : 
 
 " Come, my child, let us get to work. I ought not to com- 
 plain, for I am now leading the life which I have always 
 dreamed of ; a life of perfect solitude amongst my books." 
 
 Then he sighed and continued in lower tones : 
 
 " I should be quite happy, if I were not afraid of losing you, 
 my dear Surin. He will end by not tolerating your presence 
 here any longer. I thought that he looked at you veiy sus- 
 piciously yesterday. Always agree with him, I beseech you, 
 and take his side and don't spare me. Ah me ! I have only 
 you left now." 
 
 Two months after the elections the Abbe Vial, one of the 
 bishop's vicar-generals, went to settle at Rome. The Abb6 
 Faujas stepped into his place quite as a matter of course, al- 
 though it had been promised long ago to the Abbe Bourrette. 
 He did not even promote the latter to the living of Saint- 
 )Saturnin's which he vacated, but he preferred to it a young am- 
 bitious priest whom he had made a tool of his own. 
 
 " His lordship would not hear of you," he said shortly to the 
 Abbe Bourrette when he met him. 
 
 AVhen the old priest stammered out that he would go and 
 see the bishop and ask for an explanation, the Abbe Faujas 
 added more gently : 
 
 " His lordship is too unwell to see you. Trust yourself in my 
 hands ; I will plead your cause for you." 
 
 From his first appearance in the Chamber, Monsieur Delangre 
 had voted with the majority. Plassans Avas undisguisedly 
 conquered for the Empire. The Abbe Faujas almost ajDpeared 
 actuated by a feeling of revenge in his rough treatment of the 
 prudent townspeople, closing again the little doors that led into 
 the Chevilottes alley and compelling Monsieur Rastoil and his 
 friends to enter the Sub-Prefecture by the official door in the 
 Place. When he appeared at their friendly gatherings, they 
 showed themselves very humble in his presence. So great was
 
 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 307 
 
 the fascination he exercised, and so great was the fear which 
 was felt of this tall shabbily-dressed man, that even when he 
 was not present no one dared to make the slightest equivocal 
 remark concerning him. 
 
 " He is a man of the greatest merit," declaimed Monsieur 
 Pequeur des Saulaies, who was counting on getting a prefecture. 
 
 " A very I'emarkable man, indeed," chimed Doctor Porquier. 
 
 All the company nodded their heads approvingly. Monsieur 
 de Coudamin, who was beginning to grow irritated by this 
 eulogistic unanimity, occasionally amused himself by putting 
 them all into a state of uneasy embarrassment. 
 
 " Well, he hasn't a pleasant temper, anyway," he said. 
 
 This remark had a chilling effect upon the company. Each 
 of them was afraid that his neighbour might be in the pay of 
 the terrible Abbe. 
 
 " The vicar-general has an excellent heart," Monsieur Rastoil 
 prudently remarked ; " but, like all great minds, he appears at 
 first sight to be a little stern." 
 
 "It is just so with me ; I am very easy to get on with, but I 
 have always had the I'eputation of being a hard, stern man," ex- 
 claimed Monsieiir de Bourdeu, who had become reconciled with 
 the party again after a long private interview which he had had 
 with the Abbe Faujas. 
 
 Wishing to put everyone at ease again, the president said : 
 
 " Have you heard that there is a probability of a bishopric 
 for the vicar-general?" 
 
 Then they brightened up. Monsieur Maffre expressed the 
 opinion that it would be of Plassans itself that the Abbe 
 Faujas would become bishop, after the retirement of Mon- 
 scigneur Rousselot, whose health was very feeble. 
 
 " Everyone would gain by it," said the Abbe Bourrette guile- 
 lessly. "Hlness has embittered his lordship, and I know that 
 our excellent Faujas has made the greatest efforts to persuade 
 him out of certain unjust prejudices which he entertains." 
 
 " He is very fond of you," asserted Judge Paloque, who hud 
 just received his decoration ; "my wife has heard him complain 
 of the way in which you are neglected." 
 
 When the Abbe Sarin was present, he, too, joined in the 
 general chorus ; but, although he had a mitre in liis pocket, to 
 use the expression of the priests of the diocese, the success of 
 the Abbe Faujas made him uneasy. He looked at him in his 
 pretty way, and felt wounded by his rude demeanour, as he
 
 308 THE CONQUEST OF FLASSANS. 
 
 called to mind his lordship's prediction, and tried to discover 
 the weak point which would bring the colossus toppling in the 
 dust. 
 
 The gentlemen of the party were all quite satisfied, however, 
 except Monsieur Bourdeu and Monsieur Pequeur des Saulaies, 
 who were still waiting for the marks of the government's 
 favour ; and these two were, consequently, the warmest parti- 
 zans of the Abbe Faujas. The others, to tell the truth, would 
 have been glad to rebel, if they had dared. They were grow- 
 ing weary of the continual gratitude whicli was exacted from 
 them by their master, and they ardently wished that some 
 strong, bold hand would effect their deliverance. And so tliey 
 glanced at each other curiously, dropping their eyes again 
 immediately. One day Madame Paloque, Avith an afi'ectation 
 of perfect indifference asked : 
 
 " What has become of the Abbe Fenil ? I haven't seen or 
 heard of him for an age." 
 
 There was profound silence. Monsieur de Condamin was the 
 only one present who was capable of venturing upon such dan- 
 gerous ground. They all looked at him. 
 
 " Oh ! " he said quietly, " I believe he is shutting himself up 
 in his place at Les Tulettes." 
 
 Madame de Condamin added with an ironical smile : 
 
 " He can sleep quietly away there now. His career is over, 
 and he will take no part again in the affairs of Plassans." 
 
 It was only Marthe who remained an obstacle. The Abbe 
 Faujas felt that she was escaping him more and more every 
 day. He stiffened his will and called up all his forces of priest 
 and man to bend her, without succeeding in moderating within 
 her the flame which he had fanned into life. She was striving 
 to reach the logical end of her i)assionate longings and insisted 
 upon forcing her way further every day into the peace and 
 ecstasy and perfect self-forgetfulness of divine happiness. It 
 was bitter pain and anguish to her to be, as it were, walled in 
 by her body and prevented from craning herself up to that 
 threshold of light which she fancied she caught a glimpse of, 
 but which seemed to be ever receding out of her reach. She 
 shivered and trembled now at Saint-Saturnin's in that cold 
 gloom where she had once felt such thrills of glowing delight. 
 The swelling peals of the organ rolled over her bent neck with- 
 out stirring its soft down with tremors of voluptuous joy ; the 
 white clouds of incense uo longer softly lulled \wv iutu y.veet
 
 THE CONQTTEST OF PLASSAXS. 300 
 
 mystic dreams ; the gleaming chapels and the sacred p} .\e.i 
 that flashed like stars, the chasubles with their sheen of gold 
 and silver, all now seemed pale and wan to her eyes that were 
 dull and dim with tears. Like a damned soul, yearning after 
 Paradise, she threw up her arms in bitter desperation and she 
 besouo'ht the love that denied itself to her, as she sobbed and 
 wailed ont : 
 
 '• My God, my God ! why hast Thou forsaken me?" 
 
 Bowed down with shame, and hurt, as it were, by the cold 
 silence of the vaulted roof, Marthe left the church burning 
 with the anger of a scorned woman. She had wild dreams of 
 pouring out lier blood as an atonement, and she writhed madly 
 at her impotence to do more than to pray, and at not being 
 able to spring at a single bound into the arms of God. Then, 
 when she returned home, she felt that her only hope was in the 
 Abbe Faujas. It was he alone that could make her God's. 
 He had discovered to her the initiatory joys ; he must now tear 
 down the whole veil. She imagined for herself a long series of 
 religious exercises which should at last bring about the full 
 satisfaction of her yearnings. But the priest fell into a passion 
 with her and forgot himself so far as to treat her very rudely, 
 refusing to hear her so long as she was not on her knees before 
 him, humbled and unresisting as a corpse. She listened to him, 
 standing upright, sustained by an impulse of revolt that 
 tlirilled through her whole being, as she vented upon him the 
 bitterness that came of her deceived 3'earnings and accused him 
 of the base treachery which was torturing her. 
 
 Old Madame Rougon often thought it was her duty to inter- 
 vene between the Abbe and her daughter, as she had formerly 
 done between the latter and Monret. Marthe having told her 
 of her troubles, she spoke to the priest after the manner of a 
 mother-in-law desiring the happiness of her children and doing 
 lier best to restore peace in their home. 
 
 " Well," she said to him with a smile, "can't you manage to 
 live in peace? Marthe is constantly complaining and you 
 seem to be perpetually grieving her. I know very well that 
 women are exacting, but you must confess that you are a little 
 wanting in consideration. I am extremely distressed by what 
 occurs ; it would be so easy for you to arrange matters ])lea- 
 santly ! Do, I beg you, mv dear Abbe, be a little gentler with 
 her." 
 
 She also scolded him in a friendly fashion for liis slovenly
 
 310 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 
 
 appearance. She could see, with her shrewd femmine intelli- 
 gence, that he was taking advantage of and abusing his 
 victory. Then she began to make excuses for her daughter. 
 The dear child, she said, had suffered a great deal and her 
 nervous sensitiveness required the most careful treatment, but 
 she had an excellent disposition and an aftectionate nature 
 which a clever man might mould after his own wishes. One 
 day, however, when she was thus showing him how he might 
 make what he liked of Marthe, the Abbe Faujas grew weary of 
 her perpetual tenderings of advice. 
 
 "No, no!" he cried rudely, "your daughter is mad; she bores 
 me to death, and I won't have anything more to do with her, 
 I would pay the fellow very well wlio would free me of her." 
 
 Madame Rougon looked him keenly in the face and pressed 
 her lips closely together. 
 
 " Listen to me, my friend," she said after a short silence ; 
 " you are wanting in tact, and that will prove your ruin. 
 Tumble yourself down, if you like ; I wash my hands of you. 
 I have assisted you, not for your own sake, but to please our 
 friends in Paris. They wrote to me and asked me to pilot you, 
 and I did pilot you. But luiderstand this, I will never allow 
 you to come the master over me. It's all very well for that 
 little Pequeur, and that simple Rastoil, but we are not at all 
 afraid of you and we mean to remain the masters. My husband 
 conquered Plassans before you did, and I warn you that we 
 shall keep our conquest." 
 
 From this day there was a great coldness between the 
 Rongons and the Abbe Faujas. When Marthe again came to 
 complain to her, her mother said to her very plainly : 
 
 "Your Abbe is only making a fool of you. You will never 
 derive the slightest satisfaction from that man. If I were in 
 your place T shouldn't hesitate about telling him a few plain 
 truths. To begin with, he has been disgustingly dirty for a 
 long time past, and I can't vmderstand how you can bear to 
 take your meals at the same table with him." 
 
 Madame Rougon had, in trutli, hinted at a very ingenious plan 
 to her husband, by which the Abbe should be ousted, and they 
 themselves should reap the reward of his success. Now that 
 the town voted correctly, Rougon, who had not cared to risk 
 openly conducting the campaign, was himself quite able to 
 keep it in the proper path. The gi-een drawing-room would 
 become all the more influential, and Fehcite now began to
 
 THE COXQITEST OF FLASSANS. nil 
 
 wait the desired issue with that crafty patience to \Yhich she 
 owed her fortune. 
 
 The day on which her mother had told her that the Abbe 
 was only making a fool of her, IMarthe went again to Saint- 
 Saturuin's with a bleeding heart and resolved upon a last 
 supreme appeal. She remained in the deserted church for two 
 hours, pouring out her soul in prayer, waiting longingly for the 
 ecstasy that came not, and torturing herself with her search 
 for consolation. Impulses of deep humility stretched her 
 prostrate upon the flag-stones, momentary thrills of rebellion 
 made her start up again with her teeth clenched, while her 
 whole being, wildly racked and strained, broke down within 
 her at not being able to grasp or kiss aught save the aching 
 void of her own passion. When she rose and left the church, 
 the sky seemed black to her ; she was not conscious of the 
 pavement beneath her feet, and the narrow streets left upon 
 her the impression of an immense and lonely wilderness. She 
 threw down her hat and shawl upon the dining-room table and 
 went straight upstairs to the Abb6 Faujas's room. 
 
 The Abbe was sitting, buried in thought, at his little table, 
 and his pen had fallen from his fingers. He opened the door, 
 still preoccupied with his thoughts, but when he saw j\rai-the 
 standing before him, very pale, and with the light of a deep- 
 seated resolution burning in her eyes, he gave way to a gesture 
 of anger. 
 
 "What do you w-ant ? " he asked. "Why have you come 
 upstairs] Go down again and wait for me, if you have any- 
 thing to say to me." 
 
 She pushed him aside and entered the room without speaking 
 a word. 
 
 The priest hesitated for a moment, struggling against the 
 influence which was prompting him to raise his hand against 
 her. He remained standing in front of her, without closing 
 the door that was opened widely. 
 
 "What do you wanf?" he repeated. "T am busy." 
 
 Then Marthe went and closed the door, and when she had 
 done so she drew nearer to the Abbe and said to him : 
 
 " I want to speak to you." 
 
 She sat down and looked about the room, at the narrow bed, 
 the shabby chest of drawers, and at the great black wood 
 Ciirist. the sight of which, as it stood out conspicuously on the 
 naked wall, sent a passing thrill through her. A freezing
 
 315 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 
 
 silence seemed to fall from tlie ceiling-. The gvate was quite 
 emjjty ; there was not even a pinch of ashes in it. 
 
 "Yon will take coM," said the priest in a calmer voice. 
 " Let us go downstairs, I beg of you." 
 
 " No ; I want to speak t > you," said Marthe again. 
 Then, clasping hei hands together like a penitent making 
 her confession, she continued : 
 
 "I owe you much. Before you came, I was without a soul. 
 It was you who willed that I should be saved. It is owing to 
 YOU that I have known the only joys of my life. You are my 
 saviour and my fathei*. For these last five years I have only 
 lived through you and for you." 
 
 Her voice broke down and she was slipping on to her knees. 
 The priest stopped her with a gesture. 
 
 "And now, to-day," she cried, "I am suffering and I have 
 need of your help. Listen to me, my father. Do not with- 
 draw yourself from me. You cannot abandon me thus. I tell 
 you that God does not listen to me any longer. I do not feel 
 His presence any longer. Have pity upon me, I beseech you. 
 Advise me, lead me to those divine graces whose first joys you 
 have made me know ; teach me what I must do to make my- 
 self whole, and to ever advance in the love of God.'' 
 " You must pray," said the priest gravely. 
 " I have prayed ; I have prayed for hours with my head 
 buried in my hands, trying to lose myself in every word of 
 adoration, and yet I have not received consolation. I have not 
 felt the presence of God." 
 
 " You must pray and pray again, pray continually, pray until 
 God is moved by your prayers and descends into you." 
 She looked at him in anguish. 
 
 " Then there is nothing but to pray 1 " she asked. " You can- 
 not give me any help?" 
 
 " No ; none at all," he replied roughly. 
 
 She threw up her trembling huids in a burst of desperation, 
 and her throat was swollen with anger. But she restrained 
 herself, and she stammered out : 
 
 " Your heaven is fast closed up. You have led me on so far 
 only to crush me against the wall. I was very peaceful, you 
 will remembei', when you came. I was living quietly at home 
 here, without a single desire or curiosity. It was you who v.'oke 
 me up with words that stirred and roused my heart. It was 
 you who made me enter ujoon a fresli youth. Oh ! you cannot
 
 THE CONQUE.^T OF PLASSAXS. 313 
 
 tell what joys jou made me know at first ! It was like .i sweet 
 soft warmth thrilling through my whole being. My heart 
 woke np within me. I was filled with mighty hojies. Some- 
 times, when I reflected that I was forty years old, it all seemed 
 foolish to me, and I smiled, and then I defended myself, for I 
 felt so hajDpy in it all. Now I want the rest of the promi.'eed 
 happiness. What I have known cannot be all. There is surely 
 something more, isn't there 1 Believe that I am growing weary 
 of this desire that is ever waking up in me, a desire that burns 
 me and tortures me. I have no time to lose, now that my 
 health is broken down, and I don't want to find myself deceived 
 and duped. There must be something else ; tell me that there 
 is something else." 
 
 The Abbe Faujas stood quite impassive, letting this flood of 
 words pass over him without reply. 
 
 " There is nothing else ! there is nothing else ! " she con- 
 tinued, in a burst of indignation ; " then you have deceived 
 me ! You promised me heaven down there on the ten'ace, on 
 those star-lit evenings, and I believed your promises. I sold 
 myself, and gave myself up. I was quite mad in those first 
 loving transports of prayer. To-day the bargain holds no 
 longer. I shall return to my old ways, and resume my old 
 peaceful quiet. I will turn everyone out of the house, and 
 make it as it used to be, and I will again sit in my old corner 
 on the terrace, and mend the linen. Needlework never wearies 
 me. And I will have Desir^e back to sit at my side on her 
 little stool. She used to sit there, the dear innocent, and laugh 
 and make dolls — " 
 
 Then she broke out into sobs. 
 
 " I want my children ! They were my safeguard. Since 
 they went away I have lost my head, and have done things 
 that I ought not to have done. VvHiy did yon take them from 
 me 1 They went away from me one by one, and the house be- 
 came like a strange house to me. jNly heart was no longer 
 wrapped up in it, I was glad when I left it for an afternoon ; 
 then, when I came back in the evening, I seemed to have 
 fallen amongst strangers. The very furniture seemed cold and 
 unfriendly. I quite hated the hous:e. But I will go and fetch 
 tliem back again, the poor darlings. Everythin : will be 
 changed back to what it used to be directly (1 cy return. 
 Oh ! if I could only sink down again into niy ( Id sleepy 
 calm ! "
 
 314 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 
 
 She was growing more and more excited. The priest tried 
 to calm her by a method which he had often before found 
 efficacious. 
 
 " Be calm, my dear lady, be calm," he said, and he tried to 
 take her hands, and hold them pressed between his own. 
 
 " Don't touch me ! " she cried, recoiling from him. " I don't 
 want you to do so. When you hold me I am as weak as a child. 
 The warmth of your hands takes all my resohition and strength 
 away. The trouble would only begin again to-morrow ; for I 
 cannot go on living like this, and you only assuage me for an 
 hour." 
 
 A deep gloom passed over her face, and she exclaimed : 
 
 " No ! I am damned now ! I shall never love my home 
 again. And if the children come, they woiild ask for their 
 father — Oh ! it is that which is killing me ! I shall 
 never be forgiven till I have confessed my crime to a 
 priest." 
 
 Then she fell upon her knees. 
 
 " I am a guilty woman. That is why God turns His face 
 away from me." 
 
 The Abbe Faujas tried to make her rise up from her 
 knees. 
 
 " Be silent ! " he cried loudly. " I cannot hear your con- 
 fession here. Come to Saint-Saturnin's to-morrow." 
 
 " My father," she said supplicatingly, "have pity upon me. 
 To morrow I shall not have the strength for it." 
 
 " I forbid you to speak," he cried more violently than before. 
 " I won't listen to anything ; I will turn my head away and 
 close my ears." 
 
 He stepped backwards and crossed his arms, trying to check 
 the confession that was on Marthe's lips. They looked at 
 each other for a moment in silence, with the lurking anger 
 that came from their conscious complicity. 
 
 " It is not a priest who would listen to you," said the Abbe 
 in a more choking voice. " Here there is only a man to judge 
 and condemn you." 
 
 " A man ! " she cried excitedly ; " well, so much the better. 
 I prefer a man." 
 
 She rose from her knees, and continued her feverish flow of 
 words. 
 
 " I am not confessing ; I am telling you of my wrong-doing. 
 After the children had gone, I allowed their father to go away
 
 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 315 
 
 too. He had never struck me, the unhappy man. It was 1 
 myself who was mad. I felt hot burnings all over my body, 
 and I scratched myself and sought the coolness of the floor to 
 calm my excitement. Then, when the crisis was past, 1 felt so 
 ashamed at seeing myself naked before strangers that I dared 
 not speak. Oh, you cannot guess what frightful night-mares 
 overwhelmed me and made me hurl myself on to the floor. 
 All hell seemed to be racking my brain with its torments. 
 He, poor man, with his chattering teeth, excited my pity. It 
 was he who was afraid of me. When you had left the room 
 he dared not venture near me, and he passed the night on a 
 chair," 
 
 The Abb^ Faujas tried to stop her 
 
 " You are killing yourself," he exclaimed. " Don't stir up 
 these recollections. God will take count of your sufferings." 
 
 " It is I who have sent him to Les Tulettes," she continued, 
 silencing the priest with an energetic gesture. "You all told me 
 that he was mad. Oh, the unendurable life I have led ! I have 
 always been terrified at the thought of madness. When I was 
 quite young, I used to feel as though my skull were being opened 
 and my head were being emptied. I seemed to have a block 
 of ice wdthin my brow. Ah ! I felt that feeling of awful cold 
 again, and I was perpetually in fear of going mad. They took 
 my husband away. I let them take him. I didn't know what 
 I was doing. But, ever since that day, I have never been able 
 to close my eyes without seeing him over there. It is that 
 which makes me behave so strangely, and roots me for hours 
 together in the same spot, with my eyes wide open. I know 
 the house; I can see it. My uncle Macquart showed it to me. 
 It is as gloomy as a prison, with its black windows." 
 
 She seemed to be choking. She raised her handkerchief to 
 her lips, and when she took it away again it was spotted with 
 blood. The priest, with his arms crossed rigidly in front of 
 him, waited till the attack was over. 
 
 " You know it all, don't you 1 " she resumed, in a stammer- 
 ing voice. " I am a miserable g"uilty woman, I have sinned 
 for you. But give me life, give me happiness, and I shall 
 enter without remorse into that superhuman life which you 
 have promised me." 
 
 " You lie," said the priest slowly, "I know nothing, I was 
 ignorant of your liaving committed this wickedness." 
 
 She recoiled from before him, clasping her hands, and
 
 316 THE CONQUEST OF TLASSANS. 
 
 stammering, and gazing at him witli tcrrificrl glances. Then, 
 unable to restrain hei'self, she broke out wildly and recklessly: 
 
 " Hear me, Ovide, I love you, and you know that I do, 
 do yoii not 1 I have loved you, Ovide, since the first day that 
 you came here. I refrained from telling you so, for I saw it 
 displeased you; but I knew" quite Avell that you were gaining 
 my whole heart. I was satisfied with that, and I hoped that 
 one day we might be able to be happy in a wholly divine 
 union. Then it was that I emptied the house for your sake, 
 I dragged myself on my knees, and 1 became your slave. You 
 surely cannot go on being cruel for ever. You have consented 
 to everything, you have allowed me to make myself belong 
 only to you, and to remove all the obstacles which kept us 
 apart. Think of all this, I beseech you. Now that I am ill 
 and abandoned, and my heart is broken and my head seems 
 empty, j'ou surely cannot reject me. It is true that we have 
 said nothing openly to each other ; but my love spoke, and 
 your silence made answer. It is the man to whom I am 
 speaking, and not the priest. You told me that it was only a 
 man who was here. The man will heai'ken to me. I love you, 
 Ovide, I love you, and it is killing me." 
 
 She burst out into a fit of sobbing. The Abbe Faujas had 
 braced himself up to his full height. He stepped towards 
 Marthe and poured out upon her all his scorn of woman. 
 
 "Oh, miserable flesh!" he said. "I w^as hoping that you 
 would he reasonable, and that you would never lower yourself 
 to the shame of uttering all this filthiness. Ah ! it is the 
 eternal stru2:c;le of evil against the strong wills. You are the 
 temptation from below that leads to base back-sliding and final 
 overthrow. The priest has no enemy save such as yovi, and 
 you ought to be driven from the churches as impure and 
 accursed." 
 
 "I love you, Ovide," she stammered out again; "I love 
 you, help me." 
 
 " I have already come too near jon," the priest continued. 
 " If I fall, it will be you, woman, who have deprived me of my 
 strength by your own sole desire. Go away and depart from 
 me ; you are Satan ! I will beat you to force the evil angel 
 to come out of your body." 
 
 She fell into a crouching position against the wall, silent 
 with terror at the priest's threatening fist. Her hair became 
 unloosened, and a long white lock fell over her brow. As she
 
 
 MAETHE DECLARING HEE LOVE TO ABBE FAUJA8. 
 
 p. 816.
 
 THE CONQX'EST OF PLAS«AXS. 317 
 
 looked about the rooni for a icfu-e, her eyes fell upon the 
 black wood Christ, and she had still the streiiLith left to 
 stretch out her hands towards it with a passionate gcoture. 
 
 " Do not implore the Cross ! " cried the priest in wild angei'. 
 " Jesus lived chaste! v, and it was that which enabled Him to 
 die." 
 
 Just then Madame Faujas came into the room, carrying on 
 her arm a great basket of provisions. She put it down at once 
 on seeing her son so violently angry, and she tlu'ew her arms 
 round him. 
 
 "Ovide, my child, calm yourself," she said, as she caressed 
 him. 
 
 Then, turning upon the cowering and crushed ^hu'the an 
 annihilating glance, she cried : 
 
 "Can you never leave him at peace? Since he won't have 
 you, at any rate don't make him ill. Come, go downstairs ; it 
 is quite impossible for you to remain lierc." 
 
 Marthe did not move. Madame Faujas was obliged to lift 
 her up and thrust her towards the door. She stormed at her 
 and accused her of having waited till she had gone out, and 
 made her promise that she would not again come upstairs and 
 make such scenes, and then she banged the door violently after 
 her. 
 
 Marthe went tottering and reeling down the stairs. She 
 had left off crying, and kept saying to herself : 
 
 " Fran9ois will come back again; Francois will turn them 
 all out into the street."
 
 sits 
 
 CHAPTER XXT. 
 
 The Toulon coach, which passed through Les Tulettes, where it 
 changed horses, left Plassans at three o'clock, Marthe, goaded 
 on by a fixed and unswerving resolve, was anxious not to lose a 
 single moment. She put on her shawl and hat, and ordered 
 Piose to dress immediately. 
 
 " I can't tell what madame's after," the cook said to Olympej 
 " but I fancy we are going away for some days." 
 
 Marthe left the keys in the cupboard doors ; she was in a 
 hurry to be off. Olympe, who went with her to the door, tried 
 vainly to find out where she w'as going and how" long she would 
 be away. 
 
 " Well, make yourself quite easy," she said to her in her 
 pleasant way, as they parted at the door ; " I will look after every- 
 thing, and you will find everything all right when you come 
 buck. Don't hurry yourself, and give yourself time to do all 
 you want. If you go to Marseilles, bring us back some fresh 
 shell-fish." 
 
 Before Marthe had turned the corner of the Rue Taravelle, 
 Olympe had taken possession of the whole house. When 
 Trouche came home he found his wife banging the doors about 
 and examining the contents of the drawers and closets, as she 
 hummed and sang and rushed about the rooms. 
 
 " She's gone off" and taken that beast of a cook with her ! " 
 she cried to him, throwing herself lollingly into an easy-chair. 
 " What a piece of luck it would be if they both got upset into 
 a ditch and stopped there ! Well, we must enjoy ourselves for 
 as long as we have the chance. It's very nice being alone, isn't 
 it, Honore 1 Come and give me a kiss ! We are quite to our- 
 selves now", and we can do just as we like, aud we can go about 
 undressed if we choose." 
 
 Murtlie and Rose reached the Cours Sauvaire only just in tim
 
 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 310 
 
 to catch the Toulon coach. The coupe was disengaged. When 
 the cook heard hev mistress tell the conductor to set them down 
 at Les Tulettes, she took her place with an expression of vexa- 
 tion, and before the coach had got out of the town, she had 
 commenced grumbling in her cross-grained fashion. 
 
 " Well, I did think that at last you were going to behave 
 sensibly ! I felt sure that we were going to Marseilles to see 
 Monsieur Octave. We could have brought back a lobster and 
 some oystei's. Ah ! I wouldn't have hurried myself so if I had 
 known. But it's just like you. You are always hunting after 
 troubles, and always doing things that upset you." 
 
 Marthe was lying back in her corner in a half-swooning con- 
 dition. Now that she was no longer energetically striving 
 against the sorrow which was breaking her Iieart, a death-like 
 faintness was creeping over her ; but the cook was not even 
 looking at her. 
 
 "Did anyone ever hear of such an absurd idea as going to 
 see the master 1 " she continued. " A cheerful sort of sight it 
 will be for us. We sha'n't be able to sleep for a week after it. 
 You may be as frightened as you like at nights, but you'll not 
 get me to come and look under the furniture for you. It isn't 
 as though your going to see him could do the master any good. 
 He's just as likely to fly at your face as not ! I hope to good- 
 ness that they won't let you see him. It's against the rules, I 
 know. I ought not to have got into the coach when I heard 
 you mention Les Tulettes, for I don't think you would have 
 ventured to go on such a foolish errand all by yourself." 
 
 A deep sigh from Marthe checked her flow of words. She 
 turned round to her mistress, and saw her pale and suftbcating, 
 aud she grew still angrier than before as she opened the window 
 to let in the fresh air. 
 
 " There now, you'll have to come and lie in my arms ! 
 Don't you think you'd have been ever so much better in bed, 
 taking care of yourself? To tliink that you have had the good 
 fortune to be surrounded only by pious, holy people witliout 
 being the least bit grateful to God Almighty for it ! You know 
 it's only the truth I'm saying. His reverence the vicar and his 
 mother and his sister, and even Monsieur Trouche himself, are 
 all attention to you. They would throw themselves into the 
 fire for you, and they are ready to do anything at any hour of the 
 day or night. I saw Madame Olynajje crying, yes, crying, the 
 last time you were ill. And what sort of gratitude do youslujw
 
 320 THE CONQUEST OF PLxVSSANS. 
 
 thorn for all their kindness and attention to youl You do all 
 you can to distress them, and you set off on the sly to see the 
 master, although you know quite well that you will grieve 
 them dreadfully by doing so, for it's impossible that they sliould 
 be fond of the* master who treated you so cruelly. I'll tell you 
 what, madame : marriage has done you no good ; you've got 
 mfected v.'ith all the master's bad nature. There are times 
 when you are every bit as bad as he is." 
 
 She continued in this strain till they arrived at Les Tulettes, 
 eulogizing the Faujases and the Trouches, and accusing her 
 mistress of all manner of wrong-doings. She concluded by 
 saying : 
 
 " Ah, they are the sort of people who would make excellent 
 masters if they were rich enough to be able to afford to keep 
 servants. But fortune only comes in the way of bad-hearted 
 folks ! " 
 
 Marthe, who was now calmer, made no reply. She gazed 
 vaguely out of the window, watching the scraggy trees flit 
 past and the wide-stretching fields unroll themselves like great 
 lengths of brown cloth. Rose's growlings were lost in the 
 jolting of the coach. 
 
 When they reached Les Tulettes, Marthe hastened towards 
 the house of her uncle Macquart, followed by the cook who 
 had now subsided into silence and was contenting herself by 
 shrugging her shoulders and biting her lips. 
 
 " Hallo ! is that you 1 " the imcle cried in great surprise. 
 " I thought you were in your bed. I heard that you were ill. 
 Well, my little dear, you really don't look very strong. Have 
 you come to ask me for some dinner 1 " 
 
 " I should like to see Francois, uncle," Marthe said. 
 
 " Frangois 1 " repeated Macquart, looking her in the face. 
 " You would like to see Francois 1 It is a very kind thought 
 of yours. The poor fellow has been crying out for you a great 
 deal. I have seen him fiom the end of my garden knocking 
 his fist against the walls while he called for you to come to 
 him. And it is to see him that you have come, eh 1 I really 
 thought that you had all forgotten all about him over yonder." 
 
 Great tears welled to ^Marthe's eyes. 
 
 "It will not be very easy to see him to-day," Macquart 
 continued. " It is getting on for four o'clock, and I'm not at 
 all sure that the manager will give you leave. Mouret has not 
 been very quiet lately, lie suia&lics everything he can lay his
 
 THE CONQUEST OF PlASSANS. 321 
 
 liaiids on and talks about burning the place down. These 
 madmen are uijt in a jDleasant humour every day." 
 
 Marthe trembled as she listened to her uncle ; she was going 
 to question him, but instead of doing so she merely stretched 
 out her hands supplicatingly towards him. 
 
 " I beseech you to help me," she said. " I have come on 
 purpose. It is absolutely necessary that I should speak to 
 Francois to-day, at once. You have friends in the asylum and 
 you can obtain me admission." 
 
 " No doubt, no doubt," he replied without committing him- 
 self fm-ther. 
 
 He appeared to be in a state of great perplexity, unable to 
 clearly discover the cause of Marthe's sudden journey, and 
 seemed to be discussing the matter in liis own mind from a 
 personal point of view known only to liimself. He glanced 
 inquisitively at the cook, who turned her back upon him. At 
 last a slight smile began to play about his lips. 
 
 " Well," he said, " since you wish it, I will see what I can 
 do for you. Only, remember, that if your mother is displeased 
 about it, you must tell her that I was not able to dissuade you. 
 I am afraid that you are going to do yourself harm ; it isn't a 
 pleasant place to visit." 
 
 Rose absolutely declined to accompany them to the asylum. 
 She had seated herself in front of a fire of vine-stumps which 
 was blazing on the great hearth. 
 
 " I don't want to have my eyes torn out," she said snap- 
 pishly. " The master isn't over-fond of me. I had rather stop 
 here and warm myself." 
 
 " It would be very good of you if you were to get us some 
 mulled wine ready," Macqnart wdiispered in her ear. "The wine 
 and the sugar are in the cupboard there. We shall want it 
 when we come back." 
 
 Macqnart did not take his niece to the principal gate of the 
 asylum. He went round to the left and inquired at a little 
 low door for the warder Alexandre, with whom, on his appear- 
 ance, he exchanged a few words in low tones. Then they all 
 three silently entered the seemingly interminable corridors. 
 The warder walked in front. 
 
 " I will wait for you here," said Macqnart, coming to a halt 
 in a little courtyard. " Alexandre will remain with you." 
 
 " I would rather be left alone," said Marthe. 
 
 ".Madame wuuld very quickly have enough of it, if she were,"
 
 322 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 
 
 Alexandre replied, with a tranquil siinile. "I'm running u 
 good deal of risk as it is." 
 
 He took Marthe through another court and stopped in frcmt 
 of a little door. As he softly turned the key, he said in low 
 tones : 
 
 " Don't be afraid. He has been quieter to-day, and they 
 have been able to take the strait-waistcoat ofF. K he shows 
 any violence you must step out backwards and leave me alone 
 with him." 
 
 Marthe trembled as she passed through the narrow doorway. 
 At first she could only see something lying in a heap against 
 the wall in one of the corners. The day was waning and the 
 cell was only lighted by the pale glimmer which fell from a 
 grated window. 
 
 " Well, my fine fellow ! " Alexandre exclaimed familiarly, as 
 he stepped up to Mouret and tapped him on the shoulder ; " I 
 am bringing you a visitor. I hope you will behave yourself 
 properly." 
 
 Then he returned and leaned his back against the door, aud 
 kept his eyes fixed upon the madman. Mouret got up slowly 
 on to his feet. He did not show the slightest sign of surprise. 
 
 " Is it you, my dear 1 " he said in his quiet voice. " I was 
 expecting you ; I was getting uneasy about the children." 
 
 Marthe's knees trembled under her, and she looked at him 
 anxiously, rendered quite speechless by his affectionate recep- 
 tion of her. He did not appear changed at all. If anything, 
 he looked better than he had done before. He was sleek and 
 plump and cleanly shaved, and his eyes were bright. His 
 little self-satisfied mannei'isms had reappeared, and he rubbed 
 his hands and winked his right eye, and stalked about with his 
 old bantering air. 
 
 " I am very well indeed, my dear. We can go back home 
 together. You have come for me, haven't you 1 I hope the 
 garden has been Avell looked after. The slugs were dreadfully 
 fond of the lettuces, and the beds were quite eaten up with 
 them, but I know a way of destroying them. I have got some 
 splendid ideas into my head that I'll tell you of. We are very 
 comfortably oflF, and we can afford to pay for our fancies. By 
 the way, have you seen old Gautier of Saint-Eutrope while I've 
 been away ? I bought thirty hogsheads of common wine from 
 him for blending. I must go and see him to morrow. You 
 never recollect anything."
 
 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 3l'3 
 
 He spoke jokinglv, and shook his finocr at her playfull3'. 
 
 "I'll be bound I shall find everything in dreadful disorder," 
 he continued. " You never look after anything. The tools 
 will be all lying about and the cupboard doors ^-ill be open 
 and Rose will be dirtying the rooms with her broom. "Why 
 hasn't Rose come with you 1 Ah, what a strange creature she 
 is ! Do you know, she actually wanted to tui-n me out of the 
 house one day? Really, she seems to think that the whole 
 place belongs to her, and she goes on in the most amusing May 
 sometimes. But you don't tell me anything about the children. 
 Desiree is still with her nurse, I suppose. We will go and kiss 
 her and see if she is tired of staying there. And I want to fo 
 to Marseilles as well, for I am a little uneasy about Octave. 
 The last time I was there I found him leading a wild life. As 
 for Serge, I have no anxiety about him ; he is almost too quiet 
 and steady. He will sanctify the whole family. Ah ! I quite 
 enjoy talking about the house and the children." 
 
 He rattled along at great length, inquiring about every single 
 tree iu his garden, and going into the minutest details of 
 tlie household an-angements, and showing an extraordinary 
 memory of a host of insignificant matters. Marthe was deeply 
 touched by the gentle affection which he manifested for lier, 
 and she thought she could detect a loving deUcacy in the care 
 which he took to address nothing that savoured of a reproach 
 to her, and to make not even the least allusion to what had 
 passed. She felt that she was forgiven, and she swore to her- 
 self to atone for her crime by becoming the submissive servant 
 of this man who was so sublime in his good nature. Great 
 silent tears rolled down her cheeks, and her knees bent under 
 her in her gi-atitude. 
 
 " Take care ! " the warder whispered in her eai-. " I don't 
 like the look of his eyes." 
 
 " But he is not mad ! " she stammered out ; " I swear to you 
 that he is not mad ! I must speak to the manager. I want 
 to take him away with me at once." 
 
 " Take care ! " the warder repeated shar])ly, pulling her by 
 her arm. 
 
 Mouret had suddenly stopped short in the midst of his 
 chatter and he fell crouching upon the ground. Then he bei^an 
 to crawl briskly along by the side of the wall on his hands and 
 knees. 
 
 " Wow ! wow ! " he barked (jut, in iioarae, prolonged tones.
 
 324 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 
 
 He gave a spring up into the air and fell down upon his side. 
 Then a dreadful scene followed, fie began to writhe about like 
 a worm, and discoloured his face with blows from his fist, and 
 he tore his flesh with his nails. In a short time he was half 
 naked, his clothes torn to rags, and himself bruised and crushed 
 and groaning. 
 
 " Come away, madame, come away ! " cried the warder. 
 
 Marthe stood rooted to the ground. She recognised in the 
 scene before her her own writhings upon the ground. It was 
 just in this way that she had thrown herself upon the floor of 
 her bedroom; it was just in this way that she had beaten and 
 torn herself. She even recognised the very tones of her voice. 
 Mouret had just the same rattling groan. It was she who had 
 brought this poor man into this miserable state. 
 
 " He is not mad ! " she stammered out ; " he cannot be mad, it 
 would be too horrible ! I would rather die ! " 
 
 The warder put his arm round her and pulled her out of the 
 cell, but she remained pressing herself against the outside of 
 the door. She could hear the sounds of a struggle going on 
 within, screams like those of a pig that is being slaughtered ; 
 then the sound of a dull fall like that of a bundle of damp 
 linen could be heard, and then there was a death-like silence. 
 When the warder came out of the cell again, the night had 
 nearly fallen. Through the partially opened door, Marthe 
 could see nothing but a black void. 
 
 "Well, upon my word, madame," cried the warder, "you 
 are a very queer person to say that he is not mad. I nearly 
 had to leave my thumb behind me ; he got firmly hold of it 
 between his teeth. However, he's quieted now for the next 
 few hours." 
 
 As he took her back to her uncle, he continued : 
 
 "You've no idea how cunning they all are. They are as 
 quiet as can be for hours together and talk to you in a quite 
 sensible manner, and then, without the least notice or warning, 
 they fly at your throat. I could see quite well that he was up 
 to some mischief or other just now when he was talking to you 
 about the children, there was such a strange look in his eyes." 
 
 When Marthe got back to her uncle, in the small court-yai'd, 
 she exclaimed feverishly in a weak and broken voice, and 
 without being able to shed a tear : 
 
 "He is mad ! he is mad ! " 
 
 "There's no doubt he's mad," said her uncle with a snigger,
 
 THE CONQTTEST OF PLASSAXS. 325 
 
 "Why, what did you expect to find him? People are not 
 brought here for nothing. And the place isn't healthy either. 
 If I were to be shut up there for a couple of hours, I should go 
 mad myself." 
 
 He was watching her out of the corner of his eye, and he 
 noted her every nervous start and shudder. Then, in his good- 
 natured tones, he said to her : 
 
 " Perhaps you would like to go and see the grandmother 1 " 
 
 Marthe made a gesture of terror, and hid her face in her 
 hands. 
 
 "It would be no trouble to anyone," he said. "Alexandre 
 would be glad to take us. She is over the-re, on that side, and 
 there is nothing to be afraid of about her. She is perfectly 
 qmet. She never gives any trouble, does she, Alexandre 'i She 
 always remains seated and gazing in front of her. She hasn't 
 moved for the last dozen years. However, if you'd rather not 
 see her, we ' ■ jn't go." 
 
 As the warder was taking his leave of them, Macquart invited 
 him to come and have a glass of mulled wine, winking his eyes 
 in a certain fashion which seemed to decide Alexandre to accept 
 the invitation. They were obliged to support Marthe, whose 
 legs sank beneath her at each step. When they reached the 
 house, they were actually carrying her. Her face was con- 
 vulsed, her eyes were staring widely, and her whole body 
 was stiffened and rigid in one of those nervous seizures which 
 kept her like a dead woman for hours at a time. 
 
 "There! what did I tell you?" cried Rose, when she saw 
 them. " A nice state she's in ! How are we going to get home, 
 I should like to know? Good heavens! how can people take 
 such absurd fancies into their heads? The master ought to 
 have given her neck a twist, and it would have taught her a 
 lesson, perhaps." 
 
 " Pooh ! " said Macquart ; " I'll take her and lay her down 
 on my bed. It won't kill us if we have to sit up round the 
 fire all night." 
 
 He dx-ew aside a calico curtain which was hung in front of a 
 recess. Rose proceeded to undress her mistress, growling and 
 grumbling as she did so. The only thing tljey could do, she 
 said, was to put a hot brick at her feet. 
 
 " Now that she's all snug, we'll have a drop to drink," re- 
 sumed Macquart, with his wolfish snigger. "That wine of yours 
 smells confoundedly good, old lady!"
 
 326 THE CONQUEST OF TLASSANS. 
 
 " I found a lemon on the mantel-piece," Rose said, " and I 
 used it." 
 
 "You did quite right. There is everything here that 
 is wanted. Wiien I make a brew, there's nothing missing that 
 ought to be there, I can assure you." 
 
 He pulled the table in front of the fire, and then he sat 
 down between Rose and Alexandre, and poured the hot wine 
 into great yellow cups. When he had swallowed a couple of 
 mouthfuls with great gusto, he smacked his lips and cried : 
 
 "Ah! that's first-rate. You understand how to make it. 
 It's really better than what I make myself. You must leave 
 me your recipe." 
 
 Rose, mollified and pleased by these compliments, began to 
 laugh. The vine-wood fire was now a great mass of glowing 
 embers. The cups were filled up again. 
 
 " And so," said Macquart, leaning on his elbows and looking 
 Rose in the face, " it was a sudden whim of my niece to come 
 here?" 
 
 " Oh, don't talk about it," replied the cook ; " it will make 
 me angry again. Madame is getting as mad as the master. 
 She can't tell any longer who are her friends and who are not. 
 I believe she had a quariel with his reverence the vicar before 
 she set off; I heard their voices raised loudly." 
 
 Macquart broke out into a loud laugh. 
 
 " They used, however, to get on very well together." 
 
 "Yes, indeed; but nothing lasts long with such a brain as 
 madame has got. I'll be bound she's looking back regretfully 
 now to the thrashings the master used to give her at nights. 
 We fomid his stick in the garden." 
 
 Macquart looked at her more keenly, and, as he drank his 
 hot wine, he said : 
 
 " Perhaps she came to take Fran9ois back with her." 
 
 " Oh, Heaven forbid ! " cried Rose, with an expression of 
 hon-or. "The master would go on finely in the house; he 
 would kill us all. His coming back is one of my greatest 
 dreads; I'm in a constant trouble lest he should make his 
 escape and get back some night and murder us all. When I 
 think about it when I'm in bed, I can't go to sleep. I fancy I 
 can see him stealing in through the window with his hair brist- 
 ling up and his eyes flaming like matches." 
 
 Macquart grew noisily merry and he rapped his cup on the 
 tabic. I
 
 THE CONQUEST OF TLASSANS. 327 
 
 " That would be very unpleasant," he said, " very unpleasant. 
 T don't suppose he feels very kindly towards you, least of all 
 towards the vicar who has stepped into his place. 'I'he vicar 
 would only make a mouthful for him, big as he is, for madmen 
 they say, are hugely strong. I say, Alexandre, just imagine 
 poor Francois suddenly making his appearance at home ! He 
 would make a pretty clean sweep there, wouldn't be ] It would 
 be a fine sight, eh 1 " 
 
 He cast glances at the warder, who went on tranquilly drink- 
 ing his mulled wine and made no reply beyond nodding his 
 head assentingly. 
 
 " Oh ! it's only a fancy ; it's all nonsense," Macquart added, 
 as he observed Rose's terrified looks. 
 
 Just at this moment, Martha began to struggle violently 
 behind the calico curtain ; and she had to be held for some 
 minutes to keep her from falling on to the floor. When she 
 was again lying stretched out in a corpse-like rigidity, her 
 uncle came and warmed his legs before the fire, thinking to 
 himself and murmuring, without paying heed to what he was 
 saying : 
 
 " The little woman isn't very easy to manage, indeed." 
 
 Then he suddenly said : 
 
 " The Rougons, now, what do they say about all this busi- 
 ness ] They take the Abbe's side, don't they 1 " 
 
 " The master didn't make himself pleasant enough for them 
 to regret him," replied Rose. " There was nothing too bad for 
 him to say against them." 
 
 "Well, he wasn't far wrong there," said Macquart. "The 
 Rougons are miserable skinflints. Just think that they refused 
 to buy that corn-field over there, a magnificent s))cculation 
 v.'hich I undertook to manage. Felicite wuidd pull a queer 
 face if she saw Francois coming back ! " 
 
 He began to snigger again, and he took a turn round tlie 
 table. Then, with an expression of determination, lie lighted 
 his pipe. 
 
 " We mustn't forget the time, my boy," he said to Alexandre, 
 with another wink. "1 will go back with you; Marthe seems 
 fpiiet now. Rose will get the table laid by the time T return. 
 You must be hungry. Rose, c\\1 As you are obliged to stay 
 the night here, you shall have a mouthful with me." 
 
 He went away with the waidcr, and he hail not returned to 
 the house aii'ain at the end of half-aii-hnur. Rose, who wms be-
 
 828 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 
 
 ginning to feel a little tired of being alone, opened the door ana 
 went out and leaned over the terrace, watching the deserted 
 road in the clear night air. As she was going back into the 
 house, she fancied she could see two dark shadows standing in 
 the middle of a path behind a hedge. 
 
 " It looks just like the uncle," she said to herself ; " he seems 
 to be talking to a priest." 
 
 A few minutes later, Macquart returned. He said that that 
 blessed Alexandre had been chattering to him interminably. 
 
 " Wasn't it you who were over there just now with a priest?" 
 asked Rose. 
 
 " I, with a priest ! " he cried. " Why, you must have been 
 dreaming ; there isn't a priest in the neighbourhood." 
 
 He rolled his little glistening eyes about. Then he seemed 
 to be rather uneasy about the lie he had told, and he added : 
 
 "Well, there is the Abbe Fenil, but it's just the same as if 
 he wasn't here, for he never goes out." 
 
 " The Abbe Fenil isn't up to much," remarked the cook. 
 
 This seemed to annoy Macquart. 
 
 "Why do you say thaf? Not up to much, eh 1 He does 
 a great deal of good here, and he's a very worthy sort of 
 fellow. He's worth a whole heap of priests who make a lot of 
 fuss." 
 
 His irritation, however, immediately disappeared, and he 
 began to laugh upon observing that Rose was looking at him 
 in surprise. 
 
 " I was only joking, you know," he said. " You are quite 
 right ; he's like all the other priests, they are all a set of hypo- 
 crites. I know now who it was that you saw me with. I met 
 our grocer's wife. She was wearing a black dress, and you must 
 have mistaken that for a cassock." 
 
 Rose made an omelet, and Macquart placed a piece of cheese 
 upon the table. They had not finished eating when Marthe 
 sat up in bed with the look of astonishment of a person Avho 
 wakes up in a strange place. When she had brushed aside her 
 hair and recollected where she was, she sprang to the ground 
 and said she must be off at once. Macquart appeared very 
 much vexed at her awaking. 
 
 " It is quite impossible," he said, " for you to go back to 
 Plassans to-night. You are shivering with fever, and yoii would 
 fall ill on the road. Rest yourself, and we will see about it to- 
 morrow. To begin with, there is no conveyance liere."
 
 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSAKS. 329 
 
 " You can drive me in your gig," Marthe said. 
 
 " No, no ; I can't." 
 
 Marthe, who was dressing herself with feverish haste, de- 
 clared that she would walk to Plassans rather tliau stay the 
 night at Les Tulettes. Her uncle seemed to be thinking. He 
 had locked the door and slipped the key into his pocket. He 
 entreated his niece, threatened her, and invented all kinds of 
 stories to induce her to remain. She paid no attention to what 
 he was saying, and finished by putting on her bonnet. 
 
 "You are very much mistaken if you imagine you can per- 
 suade her to give in," exclaimed Rose, who was quietly finishing 
 her cheese. " She would get out through the window first. 
 You had better put your horse to the trap." 
 
 After a short interval of silence, Macquart, shrugging his 
 shoulders, exclaimed angrily : 
 
 " Well, it makes no difference to me ! Let her lay herself up 
 if she likes ! I was only thinking about her cwn good. Come 
 along ; Avhat will happen will happen. I'll drive you over." 
 
 Marthe had to be carried to the gig; she was trembling 
 violently with fever. Her uncle threw an old cloak over her 
 shoulders. Then he gave a cluck with his tongue and set 
 off. 
 
 " It's no trouble to me," he said, "to go over to Plassans this 
 evening ; on the contrary, indeed, there's always some amuse- 
 ment to be had there." 
 
 It was about ten o'clock. There was a ruddy glimmer about 
 the sky, heavy with rain clouds, that cast a feeble light upon 
 the road. All the way as they di'ove along Macquart kept him- 
 self bent forward and cast glances into the ditches and behind 
 the hedges. When Rose asked him what he was looking for, 
 he said that some wolves had come down from the ravines of 
 La Seille. He had quite recovered his good humour. When 
 tliey were between two and three miles from Plassans the rain 
 began to fall. It poured down, cold and pelting. Then Mac- 
 quart began to swear, and Rose would have liked to beat her 
 mistress, who was moaning underneath the cloak. When at 
 last they reached Plassans the rain had ceased, and the sky was 
 blue again. 
 
 " Are you going to the Rue Balande 1 " asked Macquart, 
 
 " Of course," replied Rose in astonishment. 
 
 Macquart then began to explain that as Marthe seemed to 
 him to be very ill, he had thought it might perhaps be better
 
 ;130 THE CONQTTEST OF PLASSANS, 
 
 to take her to her mother's. After much hesitation, however, 
 he consented to stop his horse at the Mourets' house. Marthe 
 had not even thought of bringing a latch-key with her. Rose, 
 however, fortunately had her own in her pocket, but when she 
 tried to open the door it would not move. The Trouches had 
 shot the bolts inside. She knocked against it with her fist, but 
 without producing any other answer than a dull echo in the 
 lobby. 
 
 " It's no use your giving yoiirself any further trouble," said 
 Macquart with a laugh. " They won't disturb themselves to 
 come down. Well, here you are shut out of your own 
 home. Don't you think now tlmt my first idea was a good one 1 
 We must take the poor child to the Rougons'. She will be 
 better there than in her own room ; I assure you she will." 
 
 Felicity was overwhelmed with alarm when she saw her 
 daughter arriving at such a late hour, drenched with rain and 
 seeming half dead. She put lier to bed on the second floor, 
 set the house in great commotion, and called up all the servants. 
 When she grew a little calmer, as she sat by Marthe's bedside, 
 she asked for an explanation. 
 
 " What has happened 1 How is it that you have brought her 
 to me in such a state 1 " 
 
 Then Macquart, with a great show of kindness, told her 
 about " the dear child's " expedition. He defended himself and 
 said that he had done all that he could to dissuade her from 
 going to see Francois, and he ended by calling upon Rose to 
 confirm him in this, as he saw that Felicite was scanning him 
 narrowly with a suspicioiis glance. Madame Rougon, however, 
 continued to shake her head. 
 
 " It is a very strange story ! " she said ; "there is something 
 more in it than I can understand." 
 
 She knew Macquart very well, and slie guessed that there 
 was some rascality somewhere from the expression of joy which 
 she could detect in his eyes. 
 
 " You are a strange person," he said, affecting displeasure to 
 bring Madame Rougon's examination of him to an end ; "you 
 are always imagining something extraordinary. I can only tell 
 you what I know. I love Marthe more than you do, and I 
 have never done anything that wasn't for her good. Shall I go 
 for the doctor? I will at once, if you like." 
 
 Madame Rougon followed him with her eyes. She questioned 
 Rose at great length without succeeding in learning anvthing
 
 THE COX(,)rK^;T r;F PLASSANS. 331 
 
 more. She seemed very glad to have her daughter witli lier, 
 and she spoke with bitterness of people who would leave you to 
 die on your own door-step without ever giving themselves the 
 trouble to open the door. Marthe was lying haclv upon the 
 pillow in a fainting state.
 
 332 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 It was perfectly dark in the cell at Les Tulettes. A draught of 
 icy cold air awoke Mouret from the cataleptic stupor into 
 which his access of violence in the evening had thrown him. 
 He remained lying against the wall in perfect stillness for a 
 moment or two, with his eyes staring widely open ; and then 
 he began to roll his head about gently upon the cold stone, 
 wailing like a child just awakened from its sleep. The current 
 of chill damp air struck against his legs, and he got up and 
 looked round to see where it came from. In front of him he 
 saw the door of his cell thi-own wide open. 
 
 " She has left the door open," said the madman aloud ; "she 
 will be expecting me, and I mixst be off." 
 
 He went out, and then he came back and felt over his 
 clothes after the manner of a methodical man who is afraid of 
 forgetting something, then he closed the door carefully behind 
 him. He passed through the first com-t with an easy un- 
 concerned gait as though he were merely taking a stroll. As 
 he was entering the second one, he caught sight of a warder 
 who seemed to be on the watch. He stopped and deliberated 
 for a moment. But, the warder having disappeared, he crossed 
 the court and reached another door which led to the open 
 country. He closed it behind him without any appearance of 
 astonishment or haste. 
 
 " She is a good woman all the same," he mui-mured, " She 
 must have heard me calling her. It must be getting late. 
 I will go home at once for fear they should be feeling 
 uneasy." 
 
 He struck out along a path. It seemed quite natural to 
 him to be amongst the open fields. When he had gone a 
 hundred yards he "had forgotten altogether that Les Tulettes 
 was behind him, and he imagined that he had just left a vine-
 
 THE C0NQITE8T OF PLASSANS. 333 
 
 grower's, where he had bought fifty htigsliead.i of wine. 
 When he reached a spot where five roads met, he recognised 
 where he was, and he began to laugh as he said to him- 
 self: 
 
 " What a goose I am ! I was going to go up the hill to- 
 v/ards Saint-Eutrope ; it is to the left T must turn. I shall be 
 at Plassans in a good hour and a half." 
 
 Then he went merrily along the high-road, looking at each 
 of the mile-stones as at an old acquaintance. He stopped for 
 a moment before certain fields and country-houses with an air 
 of interest. The sky was an ashy colour, streaked with great 
 rosy bands that lighted up the night with the pale glow of 
 dying embers. Heavy drops of rain began to fall ; the wind 
 was blowing from the east and was full of moisture. 
 
 " Hallo ! " said Mouret, looking up at the sky uneasily, " I 
 mustn't stop loitering about here. The wind is in the east, 
 and there's going to be a pretty down-pour. I shall never be 
 able to get to Plassans before it begins; and I'm not well 
 wi'apped up either." 
 
 He gathered up round his breast the thick grey woollen 
 waistcoat which he had torn into rag3 at Les Tulettes. He 
 had a bad bruise on his jaw to which he raised his hand with- 
 out heeding the sharp pain which it caused him. The high- 
 road was quite deserted, and he only met a cart going down a 
 hill at a leisurely pace. The driver was asleep, and made no 
 response to his friendly good-night. Tlie rain did not over- 
 take him till he reached the bridge across the Viorne. It dis- 
 tressed him very much and he went down to take shelter 
 under the bridge, grumbling to himself that it was quite im- 
 possible to go on through such weather, aiid that nothing 
 ruined clothes so much, and that if he had known what was 
 coming he would have brought an umbrella. He waited 
 patiently for a long half-hour, amusing himself by listening to 
 the plashing of the rain ; then, when the down-pour was over, 
 he returned to the high-road and at last reached Plassans. 
 He took the greatest care to keep himself from getting splashed 
 with mud. 
 
 It was nearly midnight, though Mouret calculated that it 
 could scarcely yet be eight o'clock. He passed through tlie 
 empty streets, feeling quite distressed that he had kept his 
 wife waiting such a long time. 
 
 " She won't be able to uudorstaud it," he thought. " TIio
 
 331 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 
 
 dinner will be qnitc cold. Ah! 1 shall get a nice reception 
 from Rose." 
 
 He reached the Kne Balande and stood before his own door. 
 
 "Ah ! " he said, " I have not got my latch-key." 
 
 He did not knock at the door, however. The kitchen window 
 was quite dark, and the other windows in the front were 
 equally blank of all sign of life. A sense of deep suspicion 
 took possession of the madman ; with an instinct that was 
 quite animal-like, he scented danger. He stepped back into 
 the shadow of the neighbouring houses, and examined the front 
 again ; then he seemed to come to a resolution, and he went 
 round into the Chevillottes alley. But the little door that led 
 into the garden was bolted. Then, impelled by a sudden rage, 
 he threw himself against it with tremendous force, and the 
 little door, rotten with damp, broke into two pieces. The 
 violence of the shock stunned Mouret for tlie moment, and 
 left him quite unconscious as to why he had just broken down 
 the door, which he now tried to mend again by joining the 
 broken pieces. 
 
 " That's a nice thing to have done, when I might so easily 
 have knocked," he said to himself with a sudden pang of 
 regret. " It will cost me at least thirty francs to get a new 
 door." 
 
 He was now in the garden. As he raised his head and saw 
 the bedroom on the first floor brightly lighted, he came to the 
 conchision that his wife was going to bed. This caused him 
 great astonishment, and he told himself that he must certainly 
 have dropped off to sleep under the bridge while he was wait- 
 ing for the rain to stop. It must be very late, he thoiight. 
 The windows of the neighbouring houses, Monsieur Rastoil's, 
 as well as those of the Sub-Prefectin-e, were in darkness. 
 He fixed his eyes again upon his own house as he caught 
 sight of the glow of a lamp on the second floor behind the 
 Abbe Faujas's thick curtains. It was like a flaming eye, 
 lighted up in the forehead of the house, and it seemed to 
 scorch him. He pressed his brow with his burning hands, and 
 his head grew dizzy and confused, racked with some horrible 
 recollection like a vague night-mare, in which nothing is clearly 
 defined, which seemed to be pi'egnant with the menace of some 
 long-standing danger to himself and his family, which was 
 growing and increasing in horroi', and threatening to swallow 
 lij) the house unless he could do something to save it.
 
 THE e'0>-<,)lEST or TLAt S\N.S. 335 
 
 " Martlie, Martlie, where arc you?" he stammered out iu 
 low tunes. " Cume and bring away the children." 
 
 He looked about the garden for Martlie. He could no 
 longer recognise the garden. It seemed to him to be larger ; 
 to be empty and grey and like a cemetery. The bushes of box 
 had vanished, the lettuces were no longer there, and the fruit- 
 trees had disappeared. He turned round again, and came 
 back and knelt down to see if it was the slugs that had eaten 
 everything up. The disappearance of the box, the death of 
 that lofty verdure, caused him an especial pang, as though 
 some of the actual life of the house had died out. Who was it 
 that had killed them] AVhat villain had been there up-root ng 
 everything and tearing vip even the tufts of violets which he 
 had planted at the foot of the teixacel A dull angry indigna- 
 tion rose up in him as he contemplated all this ruin. 
 
 " Marthe, Mai-the, where are you?" he called again. 
 
 He looked for her in the little conservatory to the right of 
 the terrace. It was littered up with the dead dry bodies of 
 the tall box-bushes. They were piled up in bundles in the 
 midst of the stamps of the fruit-trees. In one corner was 
 Desiree's bird-cage, hanging from a nail, with the door broken 
 off and the wire-Avork sadly torn. The madman stepped Ijack, 
 overwhelmed with fear as though he had opened the door of a 
 vault. Stammering and overcome, he went back to the terrace 
 and paced up and down before the door and the shuttered 
 windows. His increasing rage gave his limbs the suppleness 
 of a wild beast's. He braced himself up and trod along noise- 
 lessly, trying to find some opening. An air-hole into the cellar 
 was sufficient for him. He squeezed himself up and glided in 
 wuth the uimblcness of a cat, scraping the wall with his nails. 
 At last he was inside the house. 
 
 The cellar door was only latched. He made his way through 
 the thick darkness of the passage, groping along the walls with 
 his hands, and pushing open the kitchen door. The matches 
 were on a shelf at the left. He went straight to this shelf, 
 struck a light to enable him to get a lamp which stood upon 
 the mantel-piece without breaking anything. Then he looked 
 about him. There appeared to have been a big meal there that 
 evening. The kitchen was in a state of festive disorder. The 
 table was strewn with dirty plates and dishes and glasses. 
 'J'here was a litter of still warm pans on the sink and the chairs 
 and the floor. A coffee-urn that had been forgotten Was still
 
 S?l(^ THE CONQUEST OF PLASRANS. 
 
 boiling away over a lighted lamp, tilted over on one side like a 
 tipsy man. Mouret put it straiglit and then arranged tlie pans 
 tidily. He smelt at them, sniffed at the drops of liquor that 
 remained in the glasses, and counted the dishes and plates 
 with growing angry irritation. This was no longer his quiet 
 orderly kitchen ; it seemed as though a whole hotelful of food 
 had been wasted, and all this guzzling disorder reeked of in- 
 digestion. 
 
 " Marthe ! Marthe ! " he repeated again as he returned into 
 the passage, carrying the lamp in his hand ; " answer me, tell 
 me where they have shut you up. We must be off, we must 
 be off at once." 
 
 He searched for her in the dining-room. The two cup- 
 boards to the right and left of the stove were oj^en. From a 
 burst bag of grey paper on the edge of a shelf lumps of sugar 
 were falling on to the floor. Higher up Mouret could see a 
 bottle of brandy with the neck broken off, plugged up with a 
 piece of rag. Then he got on to a chair to examine the cup- 
 boards. They were half empty. The jars of preserved fruits 
 had all been attacked, the pots of jam had been opened and 
 tasted, the fruit had been nibbled, and the provisions of all 
 kinds had been gnawed and fouled as though a whole army of 
 rats had been there. Not being able to find Marthe in the 
 closets, Mouret searched all over the room, looking behind the 
 curtains and underneath the furniture. Fragments of bone and 
 pieces of broken bread were lying about the floor, and tliere 
 were marks on the table that had been left by sticky glasses. 
 Then he crossed the hall and went to look for Marthe in the 
 drawing-room. But, as soon as he opened the door, he stopped 
 short. It could not really be his own drawing-room. The 
 bright mauve paper, the red-flowered carpet, the new easy- 
 chairs covered with cerise damask, filled him with amazement. 
 He was afraid to enter a room that did not belong to him, and 
 he closed the door. 
 
 " Marthe ! Marthe ! " he stammered out again in accents of 
 despair. 
 
 He went back and stood in the middle of the passage, un- 
 able to quiet the hoarse panting which was swelling out his 
 throat. Where had he got to, that he could not recognise a 
 single spot 1 Who had been transforming his house in such a 
 way 1 His memory and recollections were quite confused. He 
 could recall nothing but shadows gliding along the passage ;
 
 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 337 
 
 two shadows, at first poverty-stricken, soft-spoken and self- 
 suppressing, then two sliadows that were tipsy and disreputable- 
 looking, and that leered and sniggered. He raised his lamp, 
 the wick of which was burning smokily, and the shadows grew 
 bigger, lengthened themselves out upon the walls, mounted 
 up the wall of the staircase and filled and made a prey 
 of the whole house. Some horrid filthiness, some fermenting 
 putrescence had found its way into the house and had rotted 
 the woodwork, rusted the iron and split the walls. Then he 
 seemed to hear the house crumbling away like a ceiling fidling 
 down from utter dampness and to feel it melting away like a 
 handful of salt thrown into a basin of hot water. 
 
 Up above there were peals of ringing laughter which made 
 his hair stand on end. He put the lamp down and went up 
 the stairs to look for Marthe. He crept up on his hands and 
 knees without making the slightest sound and with all the 
 nimbleness and quietness of a wolf. When he reached the land- 
 ing of the first floor, he knelt down in front of the door of the 
 bedroom. A ray of light streamed from underneath it. Marthe 
 must be going to bed. 
 
 " What a jolly bed this is of theirs," Olympe's voice exclaimed ; 
 "you can quite bury yourself in it, Honore ; I am right up to 
 my eyes in feathers." 
 
 She laughed and stretched herself out and sprang about in 
 the midst of the bed-clothes. 
 
 "Ever since I've been here," she contiuued, "I've been long- 
 ing to sleep in this bed. It made me almost ill, wishing for it. 
 I could never see that lath of a landlady of ours stretching her- 
 self out in it without feelins; a furioixs desire to throw her mi to 
 the floor and put myself in her place. One gets quite wamn di- 
 rectly. I feel just as though I were wrapped up in cotton- 
 wool." 
 
 Trouche, who had not yet got into bed, was examining the 
 bottles on the dressing-table. 
 
 " She has got all kinds of scents," he said. 
 
 "Well, as she isn't here, we may just as well treat ourselves 
 to the best room ! " Olympe continued. " There's no danger of 
 her coming Imck and disturbing us. I have fastened the doors 
 up. You will be getting cold, Honore." 
 
 Trouche now opened the drawers and began groping about 
 amongst the linen. 
 
 " Put this on, it's smothered with lace," he said, tossing a 
 
 Y
 
 338 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSAXS. 
 
 niglit-dress to Olympe. " I have alwajs dreamed of sleeping 
 Avitlj a woman in a lace niglit-dress. I shall wear this red 
 handkerchief myself. Did you change the sheets ? " 
 
 " No, indeed," she replied : " I never thought of it. They 
 arc quite clean though. She is very fastidious about her person, 
 and I've no objection to sleeping in her sheets." 
 
 When Trouche was at last getting into bed, she said to him : 
 
 " Put the grog on the night-table. We sha'n't want to get up 
 and go to the other end of the room for it. There, my dear, 
 we are like real householders now ! " 
 
 They lay down side by side, with the eider-down quilt drawn 
 tip to their chins, luxuriating in the soft warmth. 
 
 " I ate a lot this evening," said Trouche after a short silence. 
 
 " And drank a lot too ! " added Olympe with a laugh. " I 
 feel very cosy and snug. But the tiresome part is that my 
 mother is always interfering with us. She has been quite 
 awful to-day. I can't take a single step about the house with- 
 out her being at me. There's really no advantage in our land- 
 lady having gone away if mother's going to play the policeman. 
 She has quite spoilt my day's eujoj^Tnent." 
 
 " Hasn't the Abbe some idea of going away ? " asked Trouche 
 after another short interval of silence. " If he is made a bishop 
 he will be obliged to leave the house to us." 
 
 " One can't be sure of that," Olympe replied petulantly. '' 1 
 daresay mother means to keep it. How jolly we sho\dd be 
 here, all by ourselves ! I would make our landlady sleep up- 
 stairs in my brother's room ; I would persuade her that it was 
 healthier then this. Pass me the glass, Honore." 
 
 They both took a drink and then they covered themselves up 
 again. 
 
 "Ah ! " said Trouche, " I'm afi-aid it won't be so easy to get 
 rid of them, but we can try, at any rate. I believe the Abbe 
 would have cl:anged his quarters if he had not been afraid that 
 the landlady would have considered herself deserted and made 
 a bother. I think I'll try to talk the landlady over, and I'll tell 
 her a lot of tales to persuade her to turn them out." 
 
 He took another drink. 
 
 " Suppose I make love to her, eh, my dear 1 " he said in 
 lower tones. 
 
 " I should think so, indeed ! " cried Olympe, who began to 
 laugh as though she were being tickled. " You are too old, and 
 you are not handsome enough. I shouldn't have the least
 
 THE CONQI^ST OF PLASSANS. 3.">9 
 
 objection, but I'm quite sure she wouklu'l look at you. Leave 
 it to me, and I'll manage it with her. I'll get mother and Ovide 
 turned out, as they've treated us so badly." 
 
 " Well, if you don't succeed," said Trouche, " I'll go and say 
 everywhere that the Abbe has been found in bed with Madame 
 ^louret ; and that will make such a scandal that he will l)c 
 obliged to shift his quarters." 
 
 Olympe sat up in bed. 
 
 " That's a splendid idea," she said, " that is ! We must set 
 about it to-morrow. Before a month is over, this room will be 
 ovu's. I must really give you a kiss for the idea." 
 
 They both grew very merry, and they began to plan how they 
 would arrange the room. They would change the place of the 
 chest of di'awers, they said, and they would bring up a couple 
 of easy-chairs from the drawing-room. Their speech was grow- 
 ing gi'adually drowsier, and at last they dropped into silence. 
 
 " There ! you're off now ! " murmured Olympe, after a little 
 time. " You're snoring with your eyes open ! Well, let me 
 come to the other side, and, at any rate, I can finish my novel. 
 I'm not sleepy if you are." 
 
 She got up and rolled him like a mere lump towards the wall, 
 and then began to read. But, before she had got through the 
 first page, she turned her head uneasily towards the door. Slie 
 fancied she could hear a strange noise on the landing. Then she 
 cried petulantly to her husband, as she gave him a blow with 
 her elbow : 
 
 " You know very well that I don't like that sort of joke. 
 Don't make yourself into a wolf ; anyone would fancy that there 
 was one at the door. Well, go on if it pleases you ; you are 
 very irritating." 
 
 Then she angrily absorbed herself in her book again, after 
 having sucked the slice of lemon in her glass. 
 
 Mouret now quitted with the same stealthy movements as 
 before the door of the licdrnom, where he had remained crouch- 
 ing. He went up to the second floor and knelt before the Abbe 
 l""'aujas's door, squeezing himself close to the keyhole. He 
 choked down Marthe's name that was rising up in liis throat, 
 and he examined with his glistening eye the corners of tlie 
 room and satisfied himself that no one was being kept confined 
 there. The great, bare room was in deep shadow ; a small 
 lamj) which stood upon tJie table cast a circidar patch of light 
 upon the floor, and the priest himself, who was writing, seemed
 
 340 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 
 
 like a great black stain in the midst of the yellow glare. After 
 he had examined the curtains and behind the chest of drawers, 
 Mouret's gaze fell upon the iron bed-stead, upon which the priest's 
 hat was lying, resembling the locks of a woman's hair. There 
 was no doubt that Marthe was in the bed, Mouret thought. 
 Hadn't the Trouches said that she was sleeping up here now 1 
 But as he continued to gaze he saw that the bed was quite un- 
 disturbed, and looked, with its cold, white coverings, like a tomb- 
 stone. His eyes were getting more accustomed to the shadow. 
 The Abbe Faujas appeared to hear some sound, for he glanced 
 at the door. When the maniac saw the priest's calm face, his 
 eyes reddened and a slight foam appeared at the corner of his 
 lips, and it was with difficulty that he suppressed a shout. Then 
 he went away on his hands and knees again, down the sta'rs 
 and along the passages, still repeating in low tones : 
 
 " Marthe ! Marthe ! " 
 
 He seai'ched for her through the whole house ; in Rose's room, 
 which he found empty ; in the Trouches' apartments, which 
 were filled with the spoil of the other rooms ; in the children's 
 old rooms, where he burst into tears as his hands came across a 
 pair of old worn boots which had been Desiree's. He went up 
 and down the stairs, clinging on to the balustrade, and gliding 
 along the walls, stealthily exploring all the rooms without ever 
 stumbling, with the extraordinary dexterity of a scheming maniac. 
 Soon there was not a single corner from the cellar to the attic 
 which he had not investigated. Marthe was nowhere in the 
 house ; the children were not there either, nor Rose. The house 
 was empty ; the house might crumble to pieces. 
 
 Mouret sat down upon one of the stairs between the first and 
 second floors. He choked down that violent panting which in 
 spite of himself continued to swell out his throat. He sat wait- 
 ing, with his back leaning against the balustrade and his eyes 
 wide-open in the darkness, absorbed in the contemplation of a 
 scheme v/hich he was patiently thinking out. His senses 
 became so acute that he could hear the slightest sounds that 
 stirred in the house. Down below him Trouche was snoring, 
 and Olyrape was turning over the pages of her book with a 
 slight rubbing of her fingers against the paper. On the second 
 floor the Abbe Faujas'a pen made a scratching sound like the 
 crawling of an insect's feet, while, in the adjoiiiing room, Madame 
 Faujas accompanied it as she slept Avith the noise of her heavy 
 breathing. Mouret sat for an hour with his ears sharply strained.
 
 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 341 
 
 Olympe was the tiist uf those who were awake to succumb to slee}). 
 He could hear her novel fall on to the floor. Then the Abbe Fauja.s 
 laid down his pen and undressed himself, gliding quietly about 
 his room in his slippers. He slipped his clothes off silentlv, 
 and he did not even make the bed creak as he got into it. Ah ! 
 the house now had gone to rest. But the madman could tell 
 from the sound of the Abbe's breath that he was not yet asleep. 
 Gradually the priest's breath grew deeper. All the house was 
 now asleep. 
 
 Mouret waited on for another half-hour. He still listened 
 wnth strained ears, as though he could hear the four sleeping 
 persons descending into deeper and deeper depths of slumber. 
 The house lay wrapped in darkness and unconsciousness. Then 
 the maniac rose up and made his way slowly into the passage. 
 
 " Marthe isn't here any longer ; the house isn't here ; no- 
 thing is here," he murmured. 
 
 He opened the door that led into the garden, and he went 
 down to the little conservatory. When he got inside he me- 
 thodically removed the gi-eat dry box-bushes, and carried them 
 away in enormous armfuls, taking them upstairs and piling 
 them up in front of the doors of the Trouches and the Faujases. 
 He felt a yearning craving for a bright light, and he went into the 
 kitchen and lighted all the lamps, which he took and placed 
 upon the tables in each room, and on the landings, and along 
 the passages. Then he brought up the rest of the box-bushes. 
 They were now piled up higher than the doors. As he was 
 making his last journey with them, he raised his eyes and saw 
 the windows. Then he went out into the garden again, and 
 got the trunks of the fruit-trees and stacked them up vuider 
 the windows, skilfully an-anging for little currents of air which 
 should make them blaze freely. The stack seemed to him only 
 a small one. 
 
 " There is nothing else," he murmured : " there is certainly 
 nothing else." 
 
 Then a thought struck him, and he went down into the 
 cellar, and recommenced his journeying backwards and for- 
 wards. He was now can-ying up the supply of fuel for the 
 winter, the coal and the vine-branches and the wood. Tiie 
 pile under the windows was growing gradually bigger. As he 
 carefully arranged each bundle of vine-branches, he was thrilled 
 witli a lively sense of satisfaction. He next proceeded to dis- 
 tribute the fuel through the rooms on the ground-floor, and he
 
 342 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 
 
 placed a heap of it in the entrance-hall, and another heap in 
 the kitchen. Then he piled up the furniture on the top of the 
 different heaps. An hour had been sufficient for him to get 
 his work finislied. He had taken his boots off, and had (glided 
 about all over the house, with heavily laden arms, so skilfully 
 and dexterously that he had not let a single piece of wood fall 
 roughly. He seemed endowed with a new life, with an extra- 
 ordinary nimbleness of motion. As far as this one fii'mly fixed 
 idea of his went, he was perfectly in possession of his senses. 
 
 When all was ready, he lingered for a moment to enjoy his 
 work. He went from pile to j^ile, and felt a pleasure in looking 
 at the sturdy blocks, and he inspected them all, striking his 
 hands gently together with an appearance of extreme satisfac- 
 tion. A few fragments of coal had fallen down upon the stairs, 
 and he ran off to get a brush, and carefully svvept the black 
 dust off the steps. Then he made a final inspection with the 
 careful precision of a methodical man who means to do things 
 in the way that they ought to be done. He became gradually 
 excited with his lively satisfaction, and he dropped on to his 
 hands and knees again, and began to run about, breathing 
 more heavily and stertorously in his savage joy. 
 
 Then he took a vine-branch and set fire to the heaps. First 
 of all he lighted the pile on the terrace underneath the win- 
 dows. Then he leapt back into the house and set fire to the 
 heaps in the drawing-room and dining-room, and then to thosa 
 in the kitchen and entrance-hall. Then he sprang up-tlie 
 stairs and flung the remains of his blazing brand upon the piles 
 that lay against the doors of the Trouches and Faujases. An 
 ever-increasing rage was thrilling him, and the lurid blaze of 
 the fire completed his wild madness. He came down the stairs 
 again in terrific leaps, and rushed up and down through the 
 thick smoke, fanning the flames with his breath, and casting 
 handfuls of coal into them. At the sight of the flames, already 
 mounting to tl»e ceilings of the rooms, he sat down every now 
 and then for a moment or two upon the floor and laughed and 
 clapped his hands with all his strength. 
 
 The house was now roaring like an over-crammed stove. 
 The flames broke out at all points at once with a violence that 
 split the floors. The maniac made his way upstairs again 
 through sheets of fire, singeing his hair and blackening his 
 clothes. He posted himself on the second floor, croucliing 
 down on his hands and knees and pushing his head forward
 
 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 343 
 
 with a wolf-like growl. He kept guard over the landing, and 
 his eyes never quitted the priest's door. 
 
 " Ovide ! Ovide ! " shrieked a panic-stricken voice. 
 
 Madame Faujas's door at the end of the landing was sud- 
 denly opened and the flames swept into the room with the 
 roar of a tempest. The old woman coiild be seen in tlie midst 
 of the fire. Stretching out her arms, she hurled aside the 
 blazing brands and sprang on . to the landing, pidling and 
 pushing away with her hands and feet the burning heap that 
 blocked up her son's door, calling out all the while to the priest 
 in utter despair. The maniac crouched still lower down, his 
 eyes gleaming fierily as he continued his muttei'ed growl. 
 
 " Wait for me ! Don't get out of the window ! '' Madame 
 Faujas cried, striking at her son's door. 
 
 She pushed against it with all her strength, and the charred 
 door yielded easily. She re-appearcd holding her son in her 
 arms. He had taken time to put on his cassock, and he was 
 choking and suffocated with the smoke. 
 
 " I am going to carry you, Ovide," she cried, with energetic 
 determination. " Hold well on to my shoulders, and clutch 
 hold of my hair if you feel you are slipping down. I'll carry 
 you through it all." 
 
 She laid him upon her shoulders as though he were a child, 
 and this sublime mother, this old peasant woman, can-ying her 
 devotion to death itself, did not totter in the least beneath tlie 
 crushing weight of this great swooning, unresisting bod}-. She 
 crushed out the burning brands with her naked feet and made 
 a free passage through the flames by brushing them aside with 
 lier hands so that her son might not even be touched by tiiem. 
 But just as she was about to go downstairs, the maniac, wliom 
 she had not observed, sprang upon the Abbe Faujas and tore 
 him fi-om off her shoulders. His muttered growl turned into 
 a wild shriek, and he broke out into a fit of wild violence at 
 the head of the stairs. He belaboured the priest, tore him 
 with his nails and strangled him. 
 
 " Mai-the ! Marthe ! " he called out. 
 
 Then he rolled down the blazing stairs, still clutching the 
 priest's body in his grasp ; wliile Madame Faujas, who had 
 driven her "teeth into his throat, drained his blood. Tlie 
 Trouches perished in their dnmken stupor without a gronii ; 
 and the liouse, gutted and undermined, collapsed in the inidit 
 of a cloud of sparks.
 
 314 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 Macquart did not find Doctor Porquier at home, and the 
 latter did not arrive at Madame Rougou's till nearly half-]3ast- 
 twelve. The whole honse was still in commotion. Rougon 
 himself was the only one who had not got out of bed. Emotion 
 had a killing efi'ect upon him, he said. Felicite, who was still 
 sitting in the same chair by Marthe's bedside, rose to meet the 
 doctor. 
 
 " Oh, my dear doctor, we are so very anxious ! " she said. 
 " The poor child has never stirred since we put her to bed 
 there. Her hands are already quite cold. I have kept them 
 in my own, but it has done no good." 
 
 Doctor Porquier looked narrowly at Marthe's face, and then, 
 without making any further examination of her and still stand- 
 ing up, he compressed his lips and made a vague gesture with 
 his hands. 
 
 " My dear Madame Rougon," he said, "you must summon 
 up your courage." 
 
 Felicite burst into sobs. 
 
 " The end is at hand," the doctor continued in a lower voice. 
 " I have been expecting this sad termination for a long time 
 past ; I must confess so much now. Both of poor Madame 
 Mouret's lungs are diseased, and in her case phthisis has been 
 complicated by nervous derangements. 
 
 He had taken a seat now and a smile still played about the 
 corners of his lips, the smile of the polished doctor who thinks 
 that even in the presence of death itself a suave politeness is 
 demanded of him. 
 
 "Don't give way and make yourself ill, my dear lady. The 
 catastrophe was inevitable and any little accident might have 
 hastened it any day. I should imagine that poor Madame 
 Mouret must have been subject to coughing when she was
 
 THE CONQUEST OF PI-A.SSANS. 345 
 
 very young ; wasn't she ? I sliould say that the germs of the 
 disease have been incubating within her for a good many years 
 ]>ast. Latterly, and especially within the last three years, 
 phthisis has been making frightful strides in her. How pious 
 and devotional she was ! I have been quite touched to see her 
 passing away in such sanctity. Well, well, the decrees of 
 Providence are inscrutable; science is very often quite un- 
 availing." 
 
 Seeing that Madame Rougon still continued to weep, he 
 poured out upon her the tenderest consolations, and he pressed 
 her to take a cup of Linden-water to calm her. 
 
 " Don't distress yourself, I beg of you," he continued. " I 
 assure you that she has lost all sense of pain. She will con- 
 tinue sleeping as tranquilly as she is doing at present, and she 
 will only regain conscioiisness just before death. I won't 
 leave you ; I will remain here, though my services are quite 
 unavailing just now. I shall stay, however, as a friend, my 
 dear lady, as a friend." 
 
 He settled himself comfortably for the night in an easy 
 chair; Felicite grew a little calmer. When Doctor Porquier 
 gave her to understand that Marthe had only a few more 
 hours to live, she thought of sending off for Serge from the 
 Seminary, which was near at hand. She asked Rose to go 
 thei-e for him, but the cook refused at first. 
 
 "Do you want to kill the poor little fellow as welH" she 
 exclaimed. " It would be too great a shock for him to be 
 called up in the middle of the night to come and see a dead 
 woman. I won't be his murderer ! " 
 
 Rose still preserved some bitter feeling against her mistress ; 
 and, while the latter had been lying dying she luul paced round 
 the bed angrily knocking about the cups and the hot water 
 bottles. 
 
 " Is there any sense in doing such a thing as madame has 
 done ? " she cried. " She has only herself to blame if she has 
 got her death by going to see the master. And now every- 
 thing is turned topsoy-turvey and we are all distracted. No, 
 no ; I don't approve at all of the little fellow being startled out 
 of his sleep in such a way." 
 
 In the end, however, she consented to go to the Seminary. 
 Doctor Porquier had stretched hiniself out in front of the lire 
 and with half-closed eyes he continued to pour out consolatory 
 and kind words to Madame RuugcMi. A slight rattling sound
 
 346 TIIE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. " 
 
 began to be heard in Manhe's chest. Uncle Macquart, wno 
 had not appeared again since he went away two good hours 
 be Tore, now gently pushed the door open. 
 
 " Where have you been to 1 " Felicite asked hira, taking 
 him into a corner of the room. 
 
 He told her that he had been to put his horse and trap up 
 at The Three Pigeons. But his eyes sparkled so, and there 
 was such a look of diabolical cuiming about him, that she was 
 filled with a thousand suspicions. She forgot her djiiig 
 daughter for the moment as she scented some trickery which 
 it concerned her to get to the bottom of. 
 
 " Anyone would imagine that you had been following and 
 playing the spy upon somebody," she said, looking at his 
 muddy trousers. " You are concealing something from lue, 
 JMacquart. It is not right of you. We have always treated 
 you very well." 
 
 " Oh, very well, indeed ! " sniggered Macquart. " I'm glad 
 3"ou've told me so. Eougon is a skin-flint. He treated me 
 like the lowest of the low in the matter of that corn-field. 
 Where is Rougon ! Snoozing comfortably in his bed, eh 1 
 It's little he cares for all the trouble one takes about his 
 relations." 
 
 The smile with which he accompanied these last words very 
 much disquieted Felicite. She looked him keenly in the face. 
 
 " What trouble have you taken for his relations 1 " she asked. 
 " Are you going to grudge having brought back my poor 
 Marthe from Les Tulettes 1 I tell you again that all that busi- 
 ness has a very suspicious look. I have been questioning Rose, 
 and it seems to me that you wanted to come straight here. It 
 surprises me that you did not knock more loudly in the Rue 
 Balande ; they would have come and opened the door. I'm 
 not saying this because I don't want my dear child to be here ; 
 I am glad to think, on the contrary, that she will, at aiiy rate, 
 die amongst her own people, and will have only loving faces 
 about her." 
 
 Macquart seemed greatly surprised, and he interrupted her 
 by saying with an uiieasy manner : 
 
 " I thought you and the Abbe Faujas were the best of 
 friends." 
 
 She. made no repl}'^, but stepped up to Marthe, whose breath- 
 ing was now becoming more difficult. When she left the bed- 
 side again, she saw Macquart ti-ying to look out into the dark-
 
 THi; CONQUliST OF TLASSANS. 347 
 
 ness. He had raised the blind, and was rubbing the moist 
 pane with his hand. 
 
 " Don't go away to-morrow without coming and talking to 
 me," she said to him. " I want to have all this cleared up." 
 
 "Just as you like," he replied. "You are very difficult to 
 please. First you like people, and then you don't like them. I 
 always keep on in the same regular easy-going way." 
 
 He w-as evidently very much vexed to find that the Rougons 
 no longer made common cause with tlie Abbe Faujas. He tap- 
 ped the glass with the tips of his fingers, and still kept his 
 eyes on the black night. Just at this moment the sky was 
 reddened by a bright glow. 
 
 " What is that 1 " Felicite asked. 
 
 Macquart opened the window and looked out. 
 
 " It looks like a fire," he said unconcernedly. " There is 
 something burning behind the Sub-Prefecture." 
 
 There were sounds of commotion in the Place. A servant 
 came into the x-oom with a scared look and told them that the 
 honse of madarae's daughter was on fire. It was believed, he 
 continued, that madame's son-in-law, he whom they had been 
 obliged to shut up, had been seen walking about the garden 
 carrying a burning vine-branch. Tlie most unfortunate part of 
 the matter was that it was considered hopeless to save the 
 lodgers. Felicite turned herself sharply round, and pondered 
 for a minute, keeping her eyes fixed upon Macquart. Then she 
 understood it all clearly. 
 
 " You promised me solemnly," she said in a low voice, " to 
 conduct yourself quietly and decently when we set you up in 
 your little house at Les Tulettes. You have everything that 
 you want, and are quite independent. This is abominable, dis- 
 graceful, I tell you ! How much has the Abbe Fenil given you 
 to let Francois escape 1" 
 
 jMacquart was going to break out angrily, but Madame 
 Rougon made him keep silent. She seemed nnich more 
 luieasy about the consequences of the matter than indignant at 
 the crime itself. 
 
 " And what a terrible scandal there will be, if it all C(jmes 
 out," she continued. " Have sve ever refused you anything 1 
 We will talk together to-morrow, and we will speak again of 
 that corn-field about which you are so bitter against us. If 
 Rougon were to come to lieur of such a thing as this, he would 
 die of annoyance."
 
 348 THE CONQUEST OF TI-ASSANS. 
 
 Macqnart could not keep from smiling. He defended him- 
 self energetically, and swore that he knew nothing about 
 the matter, and that he had had no hand in it. Then, as 
 the sky was growing redder, and as Doctor Porquier had 
 already gone downstairs, he left the room, saying, with an air 
 of being anxiously curious about the matter : 
 
 " I am going to see what is happening." 
 
 It was Monsieur Pequeur des Saulaies who had given the 
 alarm. There had been an evening-party at the Sub-Prefecture, 
 and he was just going to bed when a few minutes before one 
 o'clock he saw a strange red reflection upon the ceiling 
 of his bed-room. Going to the window, he was struck with 
 astonishment at seeing a great fire burning in the Mourets' 
 garden, while a shadow, which he did not recognise at first, 
 was dancing about in the midst of the smoke, brandishing a 
 blazing vine-branch. Almost immediately afterwards flames 
 broke out from all the openings on the ground-floor. The sub- 
 prefect hurriedly put on his trousers again, called for his servant, 
 and sent the porter off to summon the fire-brigade and the 
 authorities. Then, before going to the scene of the disaster, 
 he finished dressing himself and stood before his mirror to 
 assure himself that his moustache was quite as it should be. 
 He was the first to arrive in the Rue Balande. The street was 
 absolutely deserted, save for two cats which were rushing 
 across it. 
 
 "They will let themselves be broiled like cutlets inside 
 there ! " thought Monsieur Pequeur des Saulaies, astonished at 
 the quiet and sleepy appearance of the house on the street side, 
 where as yet there was no sign of the conflagration. 
 
 He knocked loudly at the door, but he could hear nothing 
 but the roaring of the fire in the well of the staircase. Then 
 he knocked at Monsieur Rastoil's door. Then there were 
 piercing screams heard, and hurried rustlings to and fro, hang- 
 ings of doors and choking shouts. 
 
 " Aurelie, cover up your shoulders ! " the president's voice 
 cried. 
 
 Monsieur Rastoil rushed out on to the pathway, followed by 
 Madame Rastoil and her younger daughter, the one who was 
 still unmarried. In her hurry, Aurelie had thrown over her 
 shoulders a cloak of her fathei*'s which left her shoulders bare. 
 Slie turned very red as she caught sight of Monsieur Pequeur 
 des Saulaies.
 
 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSAXS. 340 
 
 " What a terrible disaster ! " stammered the president. 
 " Everything will be burnt down. The wall of my bed-room is 
 quite hot already. The two houses are almost joined. Ah ! 
 my dear sub-prefect, I haven't even stopped to remove the 
 time-pieces. We must organise assistance. We can't stand by 
 and watch all our belongings destroyed in an hour or two." 
 
 Madame Rastoil, scantily covered with a dressing-cape, Avas 
 bewailing her drawing-room furniture, which she had only just 
 had newly covered. By this time, several of the neighbours 
 had appeared at their windows. The president summoned 
 them to his assistance and commenced to remove his effects 
 from his house. He made the time-pieces his own particular 
 charge, and he brought them out and deposited them on the 
 pathway opposite. AVhen the easy-chairs from the drawing- 
 room were can-ied out, he made his wife and daughter sit down, 
 and the sub-prefect remained by their side to encourage them. 
 
 "Make yourselves easy, ladies," he said. "The engine will 
 be here directly and then there will be a vigorous attack made 
 upon the fire. I think I may undertake to promise that your 
 house will be saved." 
 
 The windows of the Mourets' house burst open, and the flames 
 broke out from the first floor. Suddenly the street Avas lighted 
 up by a bright glow, and it was as light as mid-day. A 
 di-ummer was passing through the Place of the Sub-Prefecture 
 some distance off, sounding the alarm. A number of men ran 
 up and a chain was formed, but there were no buckets and the 
 engine did not arrive. In the midst of the general consterna- 
 tion, Monsieur Pequeur des Saulaies, Avithout leaving the two 
 ladies, shouted out orders in a loud voice. 
 
 " Leave a free passage ! The chain is too closely formed 
 down there ! keep yourselves two feet apart ! " 
 
 Then he turned to Aurelie and said in a Ioav voice : 
 
 "1 am very much surprised that the engine has not arrived 
 yet. It is a new engine. This will be tiie first time it has 
 been used. I sent the porter off immediately, and I told him 
 also to call at the police-station." 
 
 The gendarmes were the first to arrive. They kept back the 
 curious spectators, Avhose number was increasing, notwithstand- 
 ing the lateness of the hour. The sub-prefect himself Avent to 
 put the chain in a better order, as it was bulging out in the 
 middle, through the puslung about of some rougli fellows who 
 had run u]) from the outskirts of the town, 'i'hc little bell of
 
 350 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 
 
 Saint-Saturnin's was sounding the alarm in its cracked notes, 
 and a second dnun was beating faintly at the bottom of the 
 street. At last the engine arrived with a noisy clatter. The 
 crowd made way for it, and the fifteen firemen of Plassans 
 made tlieir appearance, running and panting ; but, in spite of 
 Monsieur Peqneur des Saulaies's active intervention, it took 
 another good quarter of an hour before the engine was in work- 
 ing order. 
 
 " I tell you that it is the piston that won't work ! " cried the 
 captain angrily to the sub-prefect, who asserted that the nuts 
 were two tightly screwed. 
 
 At last a jet of water shot up, and the crowd gave a sigh of 
 satisfaction. The house was now blazing from the ground 
 floor to the second floor like a huge torch. The v/ater hissed 
 as it fell into the burning mass, and the flames, separating 
 themselves into yellow tongues, seemed to shoot up still higher 
 than before. Some of the firemen had mounted on to the roof 
 of the president's house, and were breaking open the tiles with 
 their picks on the chance of the fire extending to it. 
 
 " It's all up with the place 1 " muttered Macquart, who was 
 standing quietly on the pathway with his hands in his pockets, 
 watching the progress of the fire with a lively interest. 
 
 Out in the street a perfect open-air drawing-room had been 
 established. The easy-chairs were arranged in a semi-cir-cle as 
 though to allow their occupants to watch the spectacle at their 
 ease. Madame de Condamin and her husband had just arrived. 
 They had scarcely got back home from the Sub-Prefecture, they 
 said, when they heard the drum beating the alarm. Monsieur 
 de Bourdeu, Monsieur MafFre, Doctor Porquier, and Monsieur 
 Delangre, accompanied by several members of the municipal 
 council, had also lost no time in hastening to the scene. They 
 all clustered round poor Madame Rastoil and her daughter, 
 trying to comfort and console them with sympathetic remarks. 
 After a time they sat down in the easy chairs and a general 
 conversation took place while the engine was snorting away 
 half a score yards oft' and the blazing beams were cracking loudly. 
 
 "Have you got my watch, my dear?" Madame Rastoil 
 asked ; " it was on the mantel-piece with the chain." 
 
 Yes, yes, I have it in my pocket," replied the president 
 with a puffed face and trembling with emotion. " I have got 
 the silver as well. I wanted to bring everything away, but the 
 fire-men wouldn't let me ; thev said it was ridiculous."
 
 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 8r>l 
 
 Monsieur Peqiieur des Sanlaies still showed the greatest 
 calmness and kindly attention. 
 
 " I assure you that your house is in no danger at all," he 
 said, " the force of the fire is spent now. You may go and put 
 your silver back in your dining-room." 
 
 Monsieur Rastoil, however, would not consent to separate 
 himself from his plate, which he was holding under his arm, 
 wrapped up in a newspaper. 
 
 "AH the doors are open," he stammered, "and the house is 
 full of people that I know nothing about. They have dug a 
 hole in my roof that it will cost me a pretty penny to put right 
 again." 
 
 Madame de Condamin was questioning the sub-prefect. 
 
 " Oh ! that is terrible ! " she cried. " I thought that the 
 lodgei-s had had time to escape. Has nothing been seen of the 
 Abbe Faujas ] " 
 
 " I knocked at the door myself," said Monsieur Pequeur des 
 Sanlaies," but I couldn't make any one hear. When the fire- 
 men arrived I had the door broken open and I ordered them to 
 place the ladders against the windows. But nothing was of 
 any use. One of our brave gendarmes, who ventured into the 
 lobby, narrowly escaped being suffocated with the smoke." 
 
 " As the Abbe Faujas has been, I suppose ! What a horrible 
 death ! " said the fair Octavie with a shudder. 
 
 The ladies and gentlemen looked into one another's faces that 
 showed pale in the flickering light of the fire. Doctor Porquier 
 explained to them that death by fire was probably not so pain- 
 ful as they imagined. 
 
 " When the fire once reaches one," he said in conclusion, " it 
 can only be a matter of few seconds. Of course it depends, to 
 some extent, upon the violence of the conflagration." 
 
 Monsieur de Condamin was counting upon his fingers. 
 
 " Even if Madame Mouret is with her parents, as is asserted, 
 that still leaves four ; the Abbe Faujas, his mother, his sister, 
 and his brother-in-law. It's a pretty bad business ! " 
 
 Just then Madame Rastoil bent her head to her husband's 
 ear, 
 
 " Give me my watch," she whispered. " I don't feel easy 
 about it. You are always fidgetting about, and you may sit 
 on. it." 
 
 Some one called out that the wind was carrying the sjmrks to- 
 wards to the Sub-Prefecture, and Monsieur Pt'-qucur des Saulaies
 
 352 THE CONQTTEST OF PLARSANS. 
 
 immediately sprang up, and, making apologies for his departure, 
 hastened off to guard against this new danger. Monsieur 
 Delangre was anxious that a last attempt should be made to 
 rescue the victims. The captain of the fire-brigade roughly- 
 told him to go up the ladder himself if he thought such a thing 
 possible ; he had never seen such a fire befoi-e, he said. The 
 devil himself must have lighted it, for the house was burning 
 like a bundle of chips, at all points at once. The mayor, 
 followed by some kindly disposed persons, then went round 
 into the Chevillottes alley. Perhaps, he said, it would be 
 possible to get to the windows from the garden side. 
 
 " It would be very magnificent if it were not so sad," re- 
 marked Madame de Condamiu, who was now calmer. 
 
 The fire was certainly becoming a superb spectacle. Showers 
 of sparks rushed up in the midst of huge blue flames ; chasms 
 of glowing red showed themselves behind each of the gaping 
 windows, while the smoke rolled gently away in a huge 
 purplish cloud, like the smoke from Bengal lights set burning 
 at some display of fire-works. The ladies and gentlemen were 
 comfortably seated in their chairs, leaning on their elbows and 
 stretching out their legs, as they watched the spectacle before 
 them ; and whenever there was a more violent burst of flairies 
 than usual, there was an interval of silence, broken by exclama- 
 tions. At some distance off, in the midst of the flickering 
 brilliance that kept suddenly brightly lighting up masses of 
 serried heads, there was the rising murmur of the crowd and 
 the sound of gushing water and a general confused commotion. 
 Ten yards away the engine maintained its regular snorting 
 breath as it vomited forth streams of water from its metal 
 throat. 
 
 " Look at the third window on the second floor ! " Monsieur 
 
 Maftre cried out suddenly. " You can see a bed burning quite 
 
 distinctly on the left hand. It has yellow curtains, and they 
 
 are blazing like so much paper." 
 
 Monsieur Pequeur des Saulaies now returned at a gentle trot 
 
 to reassure the ladies and gentlemen. It had been a false alarm. 
 " The sparks," he said, " are certainly being carried by the 
 
 wind towards the Sub-Prefecture, but they are extinguished in 
 
 the air before they reach it. There is no further danger. 
 
 They have got the fire well in hand." 
 
 " But," asked Madame de Condamin, " is it known how the 
 
 fire originated 1 "
 
 THE CONQUEST OF TLASSANS. 353 
 
 INIonsieiir de Bourdcu asicvted that lie had fir.st of all seen a 
 dense smoke issuing from the kitchen. Monsieur ]\Iaffre 
 alleged, on the other hand, that the flames had first appeared 
 in a room on the first floor. The sub-prefect shook his head 
 with an air of official prudence, and said in a low voice : 
 
 " I am ranch afraid that malice has had something to do 
 with the disaster. I have ordered an inquiry to be made." 
 
 Then he went on to tell them that he had seen a man lia-ht- 
 ing the fire with a vine-branch. 
 
 " Yes, I saw him, too," interrupted Aurelie Rastoil. " It 
 was Monsieur Mouret." 
 
 This statement created the greatest astonishment. The 
 thing seemed impossible. Monsieur Mom-et esca[)ing and 
 burning down his honse, what a frightful story ! Tliey over- 
 whelmed Anrelic with questions. She blushed, and her mother 
 looked at her severely. It was scarcely proper for a young girl 
 to be thus constantly looking out of her window at nights. 
 
 " I assm-e you that I distinctly recognised Monsieur Mouret," 
 she continued. " I had not gone to sleep, and I got up when 
 I saw a bright light. Monsieur Mouret was dancing about in 
 the midst of the fire." 
 
 Then the sub-prefect spoke : 
 
 " Mademoiselle is quite correct. I recognise the unhappy man 
 now. He looked so terrible that I was in doubt as to who it was, 
 although his face seemed familiar to me. Excuse me ; this is 
 a, very serious matter, and I must go and give some orders." 
 
 He went awa}- again, while the company began to discuss 
 this tei'rible affair of a landlord burning his lodgers to death. 
 Monsieur de Bourdeu inveiuhed hotly against asylums. The 
 surveillance exercised in them, he said, was most insufficient. 
 The truth was that Monsieur de Bourdeu was greatly afraid 
 tiiat the prefecture which the Abbe Faujas had promised him 
 was being burnt away in the fire before him. 
 
 " Maniacs are extremely revengeful," was all that Monsieur de 
 Cdudaniin said. 
 
 This remark seemed to eml)arrass everyone, and the con- 
 versation dropped entirely. The ladies shuddered slightly, 
 while the men exchanged peculiar glances. The burning house 
 liud become an object of still greater interest now that they 
 knew whose hand had set it on fire. They blinked their (i)'vA 
 with a tlirill of delicious terror as they gazed ujjon the glowing 
 pile, and thought of the drama th.it had been euticted tliere. 
 
 'A
 
 354 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS, 
 
 " If old Mouret is in there, that makes five," said Monsieur 
 de Condamin. The hidies hushed him and told him that he 
 was a cold-blooded, unfeeling man. 
 
 The Paloques had been -watching the fire since its commence- 
 ment from the window of their dining-room. They were just 
 above the drawing-room that had been improvised upon the 
 pathway. The judge's wife at last went out, and graciously 
 offered shelter and hospitality to the Eastoil ladies and tl.eir 
 friends who were surrounding them. 
 
 "We can see very well from our windows, I assure you," she said. 
 
 And, as the ladies declined her invitation, she added : 
 
 " You will certainl}' take cold ; it is a very sharp night." 
 
 Madame de Condamin smiled and stretched out upon the 
 pathway her little feet, which showed from beneath her skirts. 
 
 " Oh dear no ! we're not at all cold," she said. " My feet 
 are quite toasted. I am very comfortable indeed. Ai'e you 
 cold, mademoiselle 1 " 
 
 " I am really too warm," Aurelie replied. " One could 
 imagine that it was a summer night. This fire keeps one quite 
 warm and cosy." 
 
 Everj'one declared that it was very pleasant, and so Madame 
 Paloque determined to remain there with them and to take a 
 scat in one of the easy-chairs. Monsieur Maffre had just gone 
 away. He had caught sight, in the midst of the crowd, of his 
 two sons, accompanied by Guillaume Porquier, who had all 
 three run up without their cravats from a house near the 
 ramparts to see the fire. The magistrate, who was certain that 
 he had locked them up in their bedroom, dragged Alphonse 
 and Ambroise away by their ears. 
 
 " I think we might go oif to bed now," said Monsieur de 
 Bourdeu, who was gradually growing more cross-grained. 
 
 Monsieur Pequeiu- des Saulaies had re-appeared again, and 
 was quite indefatigable, but he never neglected the ladies in 
 spite of the duties and anxieties of all kinds with which he 
 was overwhelmed. He sprang hastily forward to meet Mon- 
 sieur Delangre, who was just coming back from the Chevillottes 
 alley. They talked together in low tones. The mayor had 
 apparently witnessed some terrible siglit, for he kept passing 
 his hand over his face, as though he were trj-ing to drive away 
 from his eyes some awful vision that was pursiiing him. The 
 ladies could only hear him murmuring, " We arrived too late ! 
 It was horrible ! " He would imt answer any questions.
 
 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSAXS. 355 
 
 " It will be uiilv Bounlou and l)claiiyre who will regret the 
 AbbtV' Monsieur de Condaniin whispered into Madame Pa- 
 loque's ear. 
 
 '• They had business on hand with him," the latter replie«l, 
 tranquillj. "Ah 1 here is the Abbe Bourrette ! He is weep- 
 ing from genuine sorrow." 
 
 The Abbe Bourrette, who had formed part of the chain, was 
 sobbing bitterly. The poor man refused all consolation. He 
 woiild not sit down in one of the easy-chairs, but remained 
 standing with anxious troubled eyes, watching the last beams 
 burn away. The Abbe Surin had also been seen, but he had 
 disappeared after having picke<l up, by mixing with the crowd, 
 all the information he could. 
 
 " Come along, let us be off to bed ! " exclaimed Monsieur de 
 Bourdeu. " It is foolish of us to go on stopping here." 
 
 The whole party got up. It was settled that Monsieur 
 Bastoil and his wife and daughter should spend the night at 
 the Paloques'. Madame de Condaniin straightened down her 
 dress which had got slightly creased, tapping it gently with 
 her fingers. The easy-chairs were pushed out of the Avay and 
 the company stood lingering for a few moments bidding each 
 other good-night. The engine was still snorting away and the 
 fire was dying down in the midst of dense black smoke. Nothing 
 was to be heard but the stamping of the diminishing crowd and 
 the last blows of some fireman's axe striking down a beam. 
 
 " It is all over ! " thought Maequart, who still kept his posi- 
 tion on the opposite pathway. 
 
 He remained there for a few moments longer, listening to 
 the last words which Monsieur de Condaniin was exchanging 
 in low tones with Madame Paloque. 
 
 " Bah ! " said the judge's wife, "no one will cry for him, un- 
 less it's that great gander Bourrette. He had grown quite 
 unendurable, and we were all nothing but slaves. His lord- 
 ship, I daresay, has got a smiling fiice just now. Plassans is 
 at last delivered ! " 
 
 "And the liougons ! " exclaimed Monsieur de Condamin, 
 " they must be quite deliglited." 
 
 " I should think so indeed. 'I'he Bougons must be up in the 
 skies. Tliey will inherit the Abbe's conquest. Ali ! they would 
 have paid any one vei-y well who w(;uld have run the"risk of 
 setting the liouse on fire." 
 
 Macquart went away feeling very dissatisfied. He was be-
 
 850 THE CONQUEST OF PLASSANS. 
 
 ginning to fear that lie had been duped. The joy of the 
 Kougons filled him with consternation. The Rongons were 
 crafty folks who always played a double game, and whose op- 
 ptments were quite certain to end by getting the worst of the 
 struggle. As Macquart crossed the Place of the Sub-Prefecture 
 he swore to himself that he woTild never go to work in this blind- 
 fold way again. 
 
 As he went npstairs to the room where Marthe lay dying, 
 ho found Rose sitting on one of the steps. She was in a fuming 
 rage. 
 
 " No, indeed, I will certainly not stop in the room ! " she cried. 
 " I won't look on and see such things. Let her die without 
 nio ; let her die like a dog ! I have no longer any love for her, 
 I have no love for any one. To send for tlie poor little fellow to 
 kill him ! And I consented to go for him ! I shall hate my- 
 self for it all my life ! He was as white as his night-shirt, the 
 angel ! I was obliged to carry him here from the Seminary. 
 I thought he was going to give up the ghost on the way, he 
 cried so. Oh ! it's a cruel shame ! And there he has gone into 
 the room now to kiss her ! It quite makes my flesh crec[). I 
 wish the whole house would topple down on our heads and 
 finish ns all off at one stroke ! I will go and shut myself up in 
 some hole somewhere, and I will live quite alone and will never 
 see any one again, never, never ! One's whole life seems made up 
 of things that make one weep and make one angry." 
 
 Macquart entered the room. Madame Rougon was on her 
 knees, burying her face in lier hands, and Serge, with the tears 
 streaming down his cheeks, was standing by the side of the bed, 
 supporting the head of the dying woman. She had not yet re- 
 gained consciousness. The last flickering flames of the con- 
 flagration cast a ruddy reflection upon the ceiling of the room. 
 
 A convulsive tremoV shook Marthe's body. She opened her 
 eyes with an expression of surprise and she rose up in bed to 
 glance around her. Then she clasped her hands together with a 
 look of nnutterablc terror and died as she caught sight of Serge's 
 cassock in the crimson glow. 
 
 THE END.
 
 lOSANCElfj-. 
 
 /-e. 
 
 ^-j^.OF- CAl I \mj^^ ^.OFCALI F0% 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY 
 
 Los Angeles 
 This book is DUE on the last date stamped below. 
 
 OlSCH^RTiE-URl 
 
 %^i;: ''^' 
 
 to-o 
 
 ftB 
 
 ^*% 
 
 ^5/% 
 
 To «B?Bto.URl 
 
 vL JAN 12, 
 
 jflPiP 041987 
 
 50m-7,'69(N296s4)— C-120 
 
 < 
 
 
 ^ 
 
 \ -I* 
 
 \ 'U
 
 vvlOSANCElfj> 
 o 
 
 ^Aa3AINn-5WV 
 
 ^OFCALIFO/?^ 
 
 Co 
 
 '■^om 
 
 3 1158 00665 8487 
 
 II It 
 
 .^^l•LIBRARYa^ 
 
 ( 
 
 O 
 "5, 
 
 "''"■odnvj-jo^' 
 
 ^\\E UNIVERS/A 
 
 .V:lOSAH&fifj-.. 
 
 
 J^ 
 
 
 ^<!/0JI7VDJ0 
 
 > 
 
 OFCAL1FO% 
 
 
 ^p 
 
 '^ 
 
 .^MFI'N'IVFR,9/A 
 
 .viosAs'r.Fifj^ 
 
 
 J13! 
 
 UC SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY 
 
 mill 
 
 AA 000 671 392 9 
 
 ^OFCAllFOff^' 
 
 r^ ^ 
 
 lllllll 
 
 1^^' 
 
 .lO"^.WFlfr 
 
 d?' 
 
 
 -< 
 
 •'■.'IPPAOV/j, 
 
 
 >- 
 
 INIVERJ// 
 .'JNVSOV^ 
 
 I nc (Lirri r. 
 
 IC"^ 
 
 "v/saaAiNH-^wv 
 
 -A^OFCAIIFO" 
 
 4s 
 
 '^FCALIFO% 
 
 / \u • U VJ I ( J - 
 
 , V VJ » VJ M I 
 
 Ǥ 
 
 ^WEUNIVERS•/- 
 
 1^=^'] 
 
 <rii3QKvsor 
 
 
 .r \ \\\r\ K \\\ / 
 
 1/1 
 
 % "^ 
 
 '^<!/0JITV3J0>' 
 
 c^ 
 
 MW" 
 
 \ fi'. fi'rri r. 
 
 ^^NNlllBRA 
 
 .^0FCA1IF0% 
 
 o 
 
 5i- 
 
 OC 
 
 < 
 
 ^WEUNIVEF.' 
 
 1^1 IrTt 
 
 ^ 
 
 ^;0F