even then—despite
the well-merited reproof—he took it upon himself to insist:
"M. le préfet is here, M. le Comte," he said, "and begs to be received
at once."
"Well, then, you may show him up when Mme. la Duchesse has retired,"
said the Comte with quiet dignity.
"By your leave, my brother," quoth the Duchesse decisively, "I'll wait
and hear what M. le préfet has to say. The news—if news there be—is
too interesting to be kept waiting for me."
And accustomed as she was to get her own way in everything, Mme. la
Duchesse calmly sailed back into the room, and once more sat down in the
chair beside her brother's bureau, whilst Hector with as much grandeur
of mien as he could assume under the circumstances was still waiting for
orders.
M. le Comte would undoubtedly have preferred that his sister should
leave the room before the préfet was shown in: he did not approve of
women taking part in political conversations, and his manner now plainly
showed to Mme. la Duchesse that he would like to receive M. le préfet
alone. But he said nothing—probably because he knew that words would be
useless if Madame had made up her mind to remain, which she evidently
had, so, after a brief pause, he said curtly to Hector:
"Show M. le préfet in."
He took up his favourite position, in his throne-shaped [Pg 87] chair—one leg
bent, the other stretched out, displaying to advantage the shapely calf
and well-shod foot. M. le préfet Fourier, mathematician of great renown,
and member of the Institut was one of those converted Bonapartists to
whom it behoved at all times to teach a lesson of decorum and dignity.
And certainly when, presently Hector showed M. Fourier in, the two
men—the aristocrat of the old regime and the bureaucrat of the
new—presented a marked and curious contrast. M. le Comte de Cambray
calm, unperturbed, slightly supercilious, in a studied attitude and
moving with pompous deliberation to greet his guest, and Jacques
Fourier, man of science and préfet of the Isère department, short of
stature, scant of breath, flurried and florid!
Both men were conscious of the contrast, and M. Fourier did his very
best to approach Mme. la Duchesse with a semblance of dignity, and to
kiss her hand in something of the approved courtly manner. When he had
finally sat down, and mopped his streaming forehead, M. le Comte said
with kindly condescension:
"You are perturbed, my good M. Fourier!"
"Alas, M. le Comte," replied the worthy préfet, still somewhat out of
breath, "how can I help being agitated . . . this awful news! . . ."
"What news?" queried the Comte with a lifting of the brows, which was
meant to convey complete detachment and indifference to the subject
matter.
"What news?" exclaimed the préfet who, on the other hand, was unable to
contain his agitation and had obviously given up the attempt, "haven't
you heard? . . ."
"No," replied the Comte.
And Madame also shook her head.
"Town-gossip does not travel as far as the Castle of Brestalou," added
M. le Comte gravely.
"Town gossip!" reiterated M. Fourier, who seemed to [Pg 88] be calling Heaven
to witness this extraordinary levity, "town gossip, M. le Comte! . . .
But God in Heaven help us all. Bonaparte landed at Antibes five days
ago. He was at Sisteron this morning, and unless the earth opens and
swallows him up, he will be on us by Tuesday!"
"Bah! you have had a nightmare, M. le préfet," rejoined the Comte drily.
"We have had news of the landing of Bonaparte at least once a month this
half-year past."
"But it is authentic news this time, M. le Comte," retorted Fourier,
who, gradually, under the influence of de Cambray's calm demeanour, had
succeeded in keeping his agitation in check. "The préfet of the Var
department, M. le Comte de Bouthillier, sent an express courier on
Thursday last to the préfet of the Basses-Alpes, who sent that courier
straight on to me, telling me that he and General Loverdo, who is in
command of the troops in that
the well-merited reproof—he took it upon himself to insist:
"M. le préfet is here, M. le Comte," he said, "and begs to be received
at once."
"Well, then, you may show him up when Mme. la Duchesse has retired,"
said the Comte with quiet dignity.
"By your leave, my brother," quoth the Duchesse decisively, "I'll wait
and hear what M. le préfet has to say. The news—if news there be—is
too interesting to be kept waiting for me."
And accustomed as she was to get her own way in everything, Mme. la
Duchesse calmly sailed back into the room, and once more sat down in the
chair beside her brother's bureau, whilst Hector with as much grandeur
of mien as he could assume under the circumstances was still waiting for
orders.
M. le Comte would undoubtedly have preferred that his sister should
leave the room before the préfet was shown in: he did not approve of
women taking part in political conversations, and his manner now plainly
showed to Mme. la Duchesse that he would like to receive M. le préfet
alone. But he said nothing—probably because he knew that words would be
useless if Madame had made up her mind to remain, which she evidently
had, so, after a brief pause, he said curtly to Hector:
"Show M. le préfet in."
He took up his favourite position, in his throne-shaped [Pg 87] chair—one leg
bent, the other stretched out, displaying to advantage the shapely calf
and well-shod foot. M. le préfet Fourier, mathematician of great renown,
and member of the Institut was one of those converted Bonapartists to
whom it behoved at all times to teach a lesson of decorum and dignity.
And certainly when, presently Hector showed M. Fourier in, the two
men—the aristocrat of the old regime and the bureaucrat of the
new—presented a marked and curious contrast. M. le Comte de Cambray
calm, unperturbed, slightly supercilious, in a studied attitude and
moving with pompous deliberation to greet his guest, and Jacques
Fourier, man of science and préfet of the Isère department, short of
stature, scant of breath, flurried and florid!
Both men were conscious of the contrast, and M. Fourier did his very
best to approach Mme. la Duchesse with a semblance of dignity, and to
kiss her hand in something of the approved courtly manner. When he had
finally sat down, and mopped his streaming forehead, M. le Comte said
with kindly condescension:
"You are perturbed, my good M. Fourier!"
"Alas, M. le Comte," replied the worthy préfet, still somewhat out of
breath, "how can I help being agitated . . . this awful news! . . ."
"What news?" queried the Comte with a lifting of the brows, which was
meant to convey complete detachment and indifference to the subject
matter.
"What news?" exclaimed the préfet who, on the other hand, was unable to
contain his agitation and had obviously given up the attempt, "haven't
you heard? . . ."
"No," replied the Comte.
And Madame also shook her head.
"Town-gossip does not travel as far as the Castle of Brestalou," added
M. le Comte gravely.
"Town gossip!" reiterated M. Fourier, who seemed to [Pg 88] be calling Heaven
to witness this extraordinary levity, "town gossip, M. le Comte! . . .
But God in Heaven help us all. Bonaparte landed at Antibes five days
ago. He was at Sisteron this morning, and unless the earth opens and
swallows him up, he will be on us by Tuesday!"
"Bah! you have had a nightmare, M. le préfet," rejoined the Comte drily.
"We have had news of the landing of Bonaparte at least once a month this
half-year past."
"But it is authentic news this time, M. le Comte," retorted Fourier,
who, gradually, under the influence of de Cambray's calm demeanour, had
succeeded in keeping his agitation in check. "The préfet of the Var
department, M. le Comte de Bouthillier, sent an express courier on
Thursday last to the préfet of the Basses-Alpes, who sent that courier
straight on to me, telling me that he and General Loverdo, who is in
command of the troops in that
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