The Nabob [134]
and came towards him with outstretched hand:
"Well, my poor Jansoulet, I hope Paris is making you pay dearly enough for your welcome. What brawling and hate and spite one finds!"
"Ah, M. le Duc, if you knew--"
"I know. I have read it," said the minister, moving closer to the fire.
"I sincerely hope that your excellency does not believe these infamies. Besides, I have here--I bring the proof."
With his strong hairy hands, trembling with emotion, he hunted among the papers in an enormous shagreen portfolio which he had under his arm.
"Never mind that--never mind. I am acquainted with the whole affair. I know that, wilfully or not, they have mixed you up with another person, whom family considerations--"
The duke could not restrain a smile at the bewilderment of the Nabob, stupefied to find him so well informed.
"A Minister of State has to know everything. But don't worry. Your election will be declared valid all the same. And once declared valid--"
Jansoulet heaved a sigh of relief.
"Ah, M. le Duc, how it cheers me to hear you speak thus! I was beginning to lose all confidence. My enemies are so powerful. And a piece of bad luck into the bargain. Do you know that it is Le Merquier himself who is charged with the report on my election?"
"Le Merquier? The devil!"
"Yes, Le Merquier, Hemerlingue's agent, the dirty hypocrite who converted the baroness, no doubt because his religion forbade him to have a Mohammedan for a mistress."
"Come, come, Jansoulet."
"Well, M. le Duc? One can't help being angry. Think of the situation in which these wretches are placing me. Here I ought to have had my election made valid a week ago, and they arrange the postponement of the sitting expressly because they know the terrible position in which I am placed--my whole fortune paralyzed, the Bey waiting for the decision of the Chamber to decide whether or not he can plunder me. I have eighty millions over there, M. le Duc, and here I begin to be short of money. If the thing goes on only a little longer--"
He wiped away the big drops of sweat that trickled down his cheeks.
"Ah, well, I will look after this validation myself," said the minister sharply. "I will write to what's-his-name to hurry up with his report; and even if I have to be carried to the Chamber--"
"Your excellency is unwell?" asked Jansoulet, in a tone of interest which, I swear to you, had no affectation about it.
"No--a little weakness. I am rather anaemic--wanting blood; but Jenkins is going to put me right. Aren't you, Jenkins?"
The Irishman, who had not been listening, made a vague gesture.
"/Tonnerre!/ And here am I with only too much of it."
And the Nabob loosened his cravat about his neck, swollen like an apoplexy by his emotion and the heat of the room. "If I could only transfer a little to you, M. le Duc!"
"It would be an excellent thing for both," said the Minister of State with pale irony. "For you, especially, who are a violent fellow, and who at this moment need so much self-control. Take care on that point, Jansoulet. Beware of the hot retorts, the steps taken in a fit of temper to which they would like to drive you. Repeat to yourself now that you are a public man, on a platform, all of whose actions are observed from far. The newspapers are abusing you; don't read them, if you cannot conceal the emotion which they cause you. Don't do what I did, with my blind man of the Pont de la Concorde, that frightful clarinet-player, who for the last ten years has been blighting my life by playing all day 'De tes fils, Norma.' I have tried everything to get him away from there--money, threats. Nothing has succeeded in inducing him to go. The police? Ah, yes, indeed. With modern ideas, it becomes quite a business to clear off a blind man from a bridge. The Opposition newspapers would talk of it, the Parisians would make a story out of it--'/The Cobbler and the Financier/.' 'The Duke and the Clarinet.' No, I must resign myself. It is, besides, my own fault. I never ought to have let this man see that he annoyed me.
"Well, my poor Jansoulet, I hope Paris is making you pay dearly enough for your welcome. What brawling and hate and spite one finds!"
"Ah, M. le Duc, if you knew--"
"I know. I have read it," said the minister, moving closer to the fire.
"I sincerely hope that your excellency does not believe these infamies. Besides, I have here--I bring the proof."
With his strong hairy hands, trembling with emotion, he hunted among the papers in an enormous shagreen portfolio which he had under his arm.
"Never mind that--never mind. I am acquainted with the whole affair. I know that, wilfully or not, they have mixed you up with another person, whom family considerations--"
The duke could not restrain a smile at the bewilderment of the Nabob, stupefied to find him so well informed.
"A Minister of State has to know everything. But don't worry. Your election will be declared valid all the same. And once declared valid--"
Jansoulet heaved a sigh of relief.
"Ah, M. le Duc, how it cheers me to hear you speak thus! I was beginning to lose all confidence. My enemies are so powerful. And a piece of bad luck into the bargain. Do you know that it is Le Merquier himself who is charged with the report on my election?"
"Le Merquier? The devil!"
"Yes, Le Merquier, Hemerlingue's agent, the dirty hypocrite who converted the baroness, no doubt because his religion forbade him to have a Mohammedan for a mistress."
"Come, come, Jansoulet."
"Well, M. le Duc? One can't help being angry. Think of the situation in which these wretches are placing me. Here I ought to have had my election made valid a week ago, and they arrange the postponement of the sitting expressly because they know the terrible position in which I am placed--my whole fortune paralyzed, the Bey waiting for the decision of the Chamber to decide whether or not he can plunder me. I have eighty millions over there, M. le Duc, and here I begin to be short of money. If the thing goes on only a little longer--"
He wiped away the big drops of sweat that trickled down his cheeks.
"Ah, well, I will look after this validation myself," said the minister sharply. "I will write to what's-his-name to hurry up with his report; and even if I have to be carried to the Chamber--"
"Your excellency is unwell?" asked Jansoulet, in a tone of interest which, I swear to you, had no affectation about it.
"No--a little weakness. I am rather anaemic--wanting blood; but Jenkins is going to put me right. Aren't you, Jenkins?"
The Irishman, who had not been listening, made a vague gesture.
"/Tonnerre!/ And here am I with only too much of it."
And the Nabob loosened his cravat about his neck, swollen like an apoplexy by his emotion and the heat of the room. "If I could only transfer a little to you, M. le Duc!"
"It would be an excellent thing for both," said the Minister of State with pale irony. "For you, especially, who are a violent fellow, and who at this moment need so much self-control. Take care on that point, Jansoulet. Beware of the hot retorts, the steps taken in a fit of temper to which they would like to drive you. Repeat to yourself now that you are a public man, on a platform, all of whose actions are observed from far. The newspapers are abusing you; don't read them, if you cannot conceal the emotion which they cause you. Don't do what I did, with my blind man of the Pont de la Concorde, that frightful clarinet-player, who for the last ten years has been blighting my life by playing all day 'De tes fils, Norma.' I have tried everything to get him away from there--money, threats. Nothing has succeeded in inducing him to go. The police? Ah, yes, indeed. With modern ideas, it becomes quite a business to clear off a blind man from a bridge. The Opposition newspapers would talk of it, the Parisians would make a story out of it--'/The Cobbler and the Financier/.' 'The Duke and the Clarinet.' No, I must resign myself. It is, besides, my own fault. I never ought to have let this man see that he annoyed me.