The Belly of Paris - Emile Zola [144]
When Logre arrived looking weary and fell across the upholstered bench in the little room, Florent took notes on his reports and assumed he would deliver on his promises. The plot was coming to life in Florent's pocket. The notes became reality, the facts indisputable, and since the entire plan was built on the notes and ideas, it was now simply a matter of waiting for the right moment. Logre, with his impassioned gestures, said the whole thing would roll along as though it were on wheels.
During this time, Florent was very content. He felt so uplifted by the intensity of his ideas for dispensing justice after all that he had suffered, he felt as though his feet didn't touch the ground when he walked. He had the faith of a child and the confidence of a hero. If Logre had reported that the statue on the Colonne de Juillet10 had climbed down from the pillar to lead them, he would have believed it. In the evenings at Lebigre's, eloquence flowed from him. He spoke of the upcoming battle as a festival to which all good people were invited. But while he spoke, while Gavard fiddled with his revolver, Charvet grew even more bitter and shrugged his shoulders as he scoffed. His rival's ascent to the leadership of the plot infuriated Charvet and made him lose interest in politics. One evening when he arrived early and was alone with only Logre and Monsieur Lebigre, he took the opportunity to unload his feelings.
“That boy” he said, “cannot manage two political ideas at the same time. He would be more suited to teach writing at a girls' boarding school. It would be a disaster if he succeeded because we would have to look after all the damned workers with whom he locked arms in his foolish social daydreams. Don't you see, that's how we will lose. There's no room for whiners, humanitarian poets, people who are going to throw their arms around each other at the slightest scratch … But he won't succeed. He'll end up in a coffin, that's all.”
Logre and the wine merchant said nothing. They let Charvet go on.
“He would have been in his coffin a long time ago if he were as dangerous as he thinks he is,” Charvet continued. “His pathetic pretenses about escaping from Cayenne. I'm sure the police knew all about it the day he arrived back in Paris. He was left alone because they couldn't care less.”
Logre shuddered slightly.
“They've been trailing me now for fifteen years,” he added proudly. “But I'm not going to scream about it to the rooftops. I'm not going to get involved in this fracas of his. I won't play the fool. He may have half a dozen informants trailing him, ready to grab him by the collar the second the prefecture wants him.”
“Oh, no! What an idea,” said Monsieur Lebigre, who normally didn't speak at all. He was a little pale and cast a glance at Logre, who was rubbing his hump against the glass partition.
“This is speculation,” the hunchback muttered.
“Call it speculation if you like,” answered the tutor. “I know how the police operate. In any case, the police aren't going to get me this time either. Let the others do what they want. But if you listen to me, especially you, Monsieur Lebigre, you won't want to put your business at risk. Because they'll shut you down.”
Logre could not help but smile. Several times Charvet had spoken to them in this way. He must have thought he could separate the two of them from Florent by scaring them. He was always surprised by their calm and confidence. Nevertheless, he still came regularly in the evening with Clémence. The big brunette was no longer a clerk in the fish market. Monsieur Manoury had fired her.
“Those agents are all bastards,” grumbled Logre.
Clémence leaned her chair back against the partition, rolling a cigarette in her long, thin fingers, and answered in her crisp voice, “It's a fair fight. We don't have the same politics, you see. That Manoury, who brings in moneybags as fat as he is, licks the emperor's boots. If I had a business, I would keep him on my staff twenty-four hours a day.”
The truth was, it was her offbeat sense of humor that had caused