The Kill - Emile Zola [138]
Meanwhile, in the middle of the tableau, the minister, accompanied by his secretary M. de Saffré, had appeared in the door of the salon. Saccard, who had been awaiting his brother’s arrival impatiently, started to rush over to greet him. But his brother signaled him to stay where he was and walked slowly over to the group of serious men. When the curtains had closed and people noticed he was there, whispers coursed through the drawing room, and heads turned in the minister’s direction. The success of “The Amours of Handsome Narcissus and the Nymph Echo” depended on his judgment.
“You are a poet, Monsieur le Préfet,” the smiling official told M. Hupel de la Noue. “You previously published a volume of verse entitled Les Volubilis, if I’m not mistaken. . . . I see that the cares of government have not dampened your imagination.”
In this compliment the prefect detected the sting of an epigram. The sudden appearance of his superior disconcerted him all the more when he looked down to check his attire and noticed the small white handprint on his sleeve, which he did not dare to wipe clean. He bowed and stammered a reply.
“Really,” the minister continued, addressing himself to M. Toutin-Laroche, Baron Gouraud, and other personages nearby, “all that gold was a wonder to behold. We could do great things if M. Hupel de la Noue would coin money for us.”
This was the same remark that Mignon and Charrier had made, but in ministerial language. Then M. Toutin-Laroche and the others made flattering comments that played off the minister’s last sentence: the Empire had already worked miracles; there was no shortage of gold, owing to the vast experience of those in power; never had France enjoyed such a splendid position in the eyes of Europe. In the end, these gentlemen prostrated themselves to such a degree that the minister himself changed the subject. He listened to them with his head held high and the corners of his mouth slightly raised, which imparted to his plump, white, carefully shaved face an air of doubt and smiling disdain.
Saccard, who was looking for an opening to announce Maxime’s marriage to Louise, maneuvered in search of a clever transition. He affected a great familiarity, and his brother, with an air of friendly good nature, did him the favor of pretending to like him a great deal. He was truly superior, with his clear gaze, his visible contempt for petty mischief, and his broad shoulders, a shrug from which would have been enough to send everyone in the room reeling. When the subject of the marriage finally came up, he behaved charmingly and let it be known that his wedding gift was ready and waiting: he brought up the matter of Maxime’s appointment as an auditor with the Conseil d’Etat. In the heartiest of tones he twice went so far as to make his brother the promise he had been waiting to hear: “Tell your son that I want to be his witness.”
M. de Mareuil blushed with pleasure. Saccard accepted congratulations. M. Toutin-Laroche offered to serve as a second witness. Then the conversation abruptly turned to the subject of divorce. A member of the opposition had just found what M. Haffner called the “lamentable courage” to defend this social disgrace. This was greeted with cries of protest from all present. Their sense of propriety found profound words in which to express itself. M. Michelin smiled discreetly at the minister, while Mignon and Charrier noted with astonishment that his jacket collar was worn.
Meanwhile, M. Hupel de la Noue continued to lean uncomfortably on Baron Gouraud’s chair after the baron contented himself with a silent shake of the minister’s hand. The poet did not dare move from the spot, held there by an indefinable sentiment, a fear of looking ridiculous and of forfeiting the approval of his superior, despite his burning desire to go backstage to position the women for the final tableau. He was waiting for some clever remark to occur to him and restore him to favor. But none came. He was