sensation of that handshake, so soft and supple, almost feminine, lingered for a moment with Saccard. In his uncertainty about the road he should take and how to rebuild his life, he decided they were all scoundrels, every man there. Ah, if he were forced to it, how he would hunt them down, how he’d fleece them all, the trembling Mosers, the boastful Pilleraults, the Salmons hollower than a drum, and people like Amadieu, seen as a genius on the strength of one success! The clatter of plates and glasses had resumed, voices were getting hoarse, the doors banged ever louder in the raging hurry to get to the market in case Suez should indeed be about to crash. Looking out of the window onto the middle of the square, lined by carriages and crammed with pedestrians, Saccard could see the sunlit steps of the Bourse, speckled now with the continual surge of human insects, men smartly dressed in black gradually filling the colonnade, while behind the railings a few women appeared, prowling around beneath the chestnut trees.
Suddenly, as he was about to start on the cheese he’d just ordered, a loud voice made him look up.
‘I beg your pardon, my dear chap, I really was unable to get here any sooner.’
It was Huret at last, a Norman from Calvados with the thick, broad face of a wily peasant, but who affected to be a simple man. He immediately ordered something, whatever was available, the dish of the day, with a vegetable.
‘Well…?’ said Saccard curtly, trying to contain his annoyance.
But the other was in no hurry, looking at him with the air of a man both crafty and cautious. Then, starting to eat, he leaned towards him, lowering his voice:
‘Well, I saw the great man… Yes, at his home, this morning… Oh, he was very kind, very well-disposed towards you…’
He paused, drank a large glass of wine, and popped a potato into his mouth.
‘So…?’
‘So, my dear chap, this is how it is… He’s very willing to do all he can for you, he’ll find you a very good position, but not in France… For instance, the governorship of one of our colonies, one of the better ones. You’d be the master there, a real little prince.’
Saccard had turned pale.
‘Come now, you can’t be serious, this is a joke!… Why not just deport me straight off!… Oh yes, he wants to be rid of me. He’d better be careful or I might end up seriously embarrassing him.’
Huret sat there with his mouth full, looking conciliatory.
‘Come, come now, we only want what’s best for you, just let us get on with it.’
‘And allow myself to be wiped out, eh?… Well, just a little while back they were saying here that the Empire soon wouldn’t have any more mistakes left to make. Yes, after the Italian war, and Mexico, and the attitude to Prussia. My word, it’s the truth… You’ll do so many stupid and crazy things that the whole of France will rise up to kick you out.’
With that the Deputy, faithful servant of his minister, turned pale and looked about him anxiously.
‘Ah, please, allow me to say… I can’t go along with you there… Rougon is an honest man, there is no danger of that, so long as he is there… No, don’t say another word, you misjudge him, I must insist.’
Saccard interrupted him violently, controlling his voice between clenched teeth:
‘So be it, go on loving him, carry on cooking up plans with him… Yes or no, will he give me his support in Paris?’
‘In Paris, never!’
Without another word Saccard stood up and called the waiter over to pay the bill, while Huret, accustomed to his fits of rage, very calmly went on swallowing big mouthfuls of bread and let him go, for fear of a scene. But just then there was a great commotion in the room.
Gundermann had just come in, the banker-king, master of the Bourse and the world, a man of sixty, whose huge bald head, thick nose, and round, protruding eyes seemed to express immense obstinacy and weariness. He never went to the Bourse, even affecting not
Suddenly, as he was about to start on the cheese he’d just ordered, a loud voice made him look up.
‘I beg your pardon, my dear chap, I really was unable to get here any sooner.’
It was Huret at last, a Norman from Calvados with the thick, broad face of a wily peasant, but who affected to be a simple man. He immediately ordered something, whatever was available, the dish of the day, with a vegetable.
‘Well…?’ said Saccard curtly, trying to contain his annoyance.
But the other was in no hurry, looking at him with the air of a man both crafty and cautious. Then, starting to eat, he leaned towards him, lowering his voice:
‘Well, I saw the great man… Yes, at his home, this morning… Oh, he was very kind, very well-disposed towards you…’
He paused, drank a large glass of wine, and popped a potato into his mouth.
‘So…?’
‘So, my dear chap, this is how it is… He’s very willing to do all he can for you, he’ll find you a very good position, but not in France… For instance, the governorship of one of our colonies, one of the better ones. You’d be the master there, a real little prince.’
Saccard had turned pale.
‘Come now, you can’t be serious, this is a joke!… Why not just deport me straight off!… Oh yes, he wants to be rid of me. He’d better be careful or I might end up seriously embarrassing him.’
Huret sat there with his mouth full, looking conciliatory.
‘Come, come now, we only want what’s best for you, just let us get on with it.’
‘And allow myself to be wiped out, eh?… Well, just a little while back they were saying here that the Empire soon wouldn’t have any more mistakes left to make. Yes, after the Italian war, and Mexico, and the attitude to Prussia. My word, it’s the truth… You’ll do so many stupid and crazy things that the whole of France will rise up to kick you out.’
With that the Deputy, faithful servant of his minister, turned pale and looked about him anxiously.
‘Ah, please, allow me to say… I can’t go along with you there… Rougon is an honest man, there is no danger of that, so long as he is there… No, don’t say another word, you misjudge him, I must insist.’
Saccard interrupted him violently, controlling his voice between clenched teeth:
‘So be it, go on loving him, carry on cooking up plans with him… Yes or no, will he give me his support in Paris?’
‘In Paris, never!’
Without another word Saccard stood up and called the waiter over to pay the bill, while Huret, accustomed to his fits of rage, very calmly went on swallowing big mouthfuls of bread and let him go, for fear of a scene. But just then there was a great commotion in the room.
Gundermann had just come in, the banker-king, master of the Bourse and the world, a man of sixty, whose huge bald head, thick nose, and round, protruding eyes seemed to express immense obstinacy and weariness. He never went to the Bourse, even affecting not
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