THE COMPLETE WORKS OF ÉMILE ZOLA. Эмиль Золя

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      “Eh!” he exclaimed, in a military voice, brief and resounding. “Eh! it’s my young friend! How are you? It’s centuries since I saw you. Ah! How many events, good heavens! How many events!”

      He spoke so loud that the passersby turned round. This attention bestowed on his personality flattered him enormously. He shook himself in delight, producing a clanking sound of steel, and cast the reflex of his stripes and epaulettes in the eyes of the crowd.

      As Marius pressed his hand without answering, he imagined he was confounded by the magnificence of his costume. He took his arm with a protecting air and began to walk up the Cannebière, deigning to give him proofs of friendship.

      “Hey! you stare at me?” he continued. “You are surprised to see me in the National Guard? What could I do? They so begged me, so implored me, that in the end I accepted. You understand, I would a thousand times sooner live quietly at home. But in these difficult times good citizens have duties to perform. They had need of me and I could not refuse.”

      He lied with the most barefaced self-possession. It was he who had begged for the post of captain with joined hands. He wanted golden epaulettes: on that condition only did he consent to serve the country.

      Marius sought for an answer and finding nothing, ended by murmuring:

      “Yes, yes, we are in difficult times.”

      “But we are here!” cried Sauvaire, placing his hand on his sword. “They will have to pass over our corpses before they can trouble the tranquillity of the land. Fear nothing, cheer-up your wives and children: the National Guard will not betray its mandate.”

      He delivered this like a speech learnt by heart. Marius, to put him out of countenance, was tempted to ask him for news of Clairon.

      “Observe all this population,” continued Sauvaire, “how peaceful, what faith it has in our vigilance and courage!”

      He stopped, and continued in his old tone of naïvete and self-satisfaction:

      “What do you think of my uniform? Haven’t I a martial air? The epaulettes, you know, cost me a tremendous lot of money.”

      “You look capital,” answered Marius, “and I confess your unexpected appearance produced great impression on me. And what are your opinions?”

      Sauvaire appeared full of importance.

      “My opinions?” he repeated, thinking what that could mean. “Ah! yes, what I think of the Republic, that’s it, is it not? Well, I think the Republic is an excellent thing. Only, order, you understand. The National Guard was formed to preserve order. Order. I insist on that.”

      He swung his body about, triumphant at having been able to find he had an opinion. At the bottom of his heart he felt esteem for the Republic, which had given him epaulettes; but he had been told that if the Republicans were victorious they would rob him of his money, and, therefore, he detested the Republicans. These contradictory sentiments had to get on together as best they could, but for the matter of that he never asked himself what his convictions were.

      He went a little way further with Marius and then left him with the remark, uttered with much importance, that his duty called him elsewhere. But it was only a sham departure, he turned on his heels and came back to whisper to the young man in a confidential tone:

      “Ah! I forgot. Just tell your brother that he compromises himself with that lot of tatterdemalions whom he drags along with him everywhere. Advise him to give up the rabble and obtain a captain’s commission like me. It’s more prudent.”

      And, as Marius, without replying, pressed his hand to thank him, he added like the good fellow he was at heart:

      “If I can be of use to you in any row, count on me. I feel just as much inclined to serve my friends as my country. I am at your service, you understand.”

      He was no longer acting. Marius thanked him again and they parted the best friends in the world.

      In the evening, the young man spoke to Fine and his brother of the meeting, and amused them by a descriptive account of the triumphant attitude of the former master-stevedore, but at last Philippe became irritated.

      “And it’s to such men as this that the tranquillity of the city is entrusted!” he exclaimed. “These gentlemen are well dressed, these gentlemen play at soldiers. Ah! let them beware! they may, perhaps, be compelled to perform their part seriously. The people are tired of their tomfoolery and vanity.”

      “Hold your tongue,” said Marius, severely. “These men may be ridiculous, but one doesn’t kill one’s fellow countrymen.”

      Philippe rose and continued with greater violence:

      “The country is not with them. It is the workmen, the workers who are the country. The bourgeois have guns, the people have none. The people are being guarded, musket to the shoulder, like wild beasts. Well! one of these days the beasts will show their teeth and devour their guardians. That’s all.”

      And he abruptly went upstairs to his room.

      CHAPTER XIII

      WHAT MATHÉUS UNDERSTOOD BY STRATEGY

      MATHÉUS was decidedly a pure Republican, a radical with whom there was no joking. His forehead was half covered by his carroty wig, and when he shook his head in the clubs, it resembled a torch throwing out a reddish light. He was always on the side of the extreme party, and supported any measure likely to cause disorder in the city. He had ended by inspiring a sort of respectful terror, and his advice was listened to with admiration, and fear. On the day following the elections he had spoken plainly of setting fire to Marseille, and this had made him extremely popular among the exalted liberals.

      He often met Philippe, but avoided becoming intimate with him, confining himself to keeping a watchful eye on him from a distance and to taking note of the fiery language that sometimes escaped him. He wanted to see him mixed up in a nice little conspiracy. So long as the young man limited himself to declaiming in the clubs, taking part in the banquets and popular manifestations, he felt he could do nothing against him, and it was for that reason that he argued in favour of war and barricades. He hoped that at the first shot, Philippe would rush down and join in the street fight, and be arrested and condemned as an insurgent.

      Besides, civil war formed part of Mathéus’ calculations. Having promised his master to hand over to him father and son, he relied on the tumult of the insurrection to steal little Joseph, while Philippe would be either killed or imprisoned. He had arranged in his head a plan which, according to his idea, could not fail to succeed. But it was a question of persuading the people to fight. They seemed to him quite disposed to do so, and he had made up his mind that if ever a shot were fired, he would sow such discord that an encounter would be inevitable.

      During this time M. de Cazalis was becoming impatient. For three months he had waited in vain for Mathéus to accomplish his promises. When the latter came secretly in the evening to give him an account of the events of the day, he complained bitterly of the long delay that obliged him to live in hiding at his mansion.

      “But, sir,” said the spy, with his insolent laugh, “I cannot make the barricades all alone! Allow the insurrection to ripen. Why, СКАЧАТЬ