THE COMPLETE WORKS OF ÉMILE ZOLA. Эмиль Золя
dearly for.”
“But if you follow him step by step, he must recognise you.”
“Eh! no, he only saw me once, in the evening at Saint Barnabé. Besides, I have purchased a wig of a bright red colour, which gives me a capital revolutionary appearance. Ah! what simpletons these democrats are, my dear master! They talk of justice, duty, equality; they have an air of honesty that irritates me. I bet they’d massacre me, if they were aware I was working for you. You will never recompense me sufficiently largely, for the sacrifice I am making in consenting to pass for one of theirs.”
“And if the Liberal party wins the day?” asked M. de Cazalis, who had been thinking. Mathéus looked at his master stupefied.
“What do you say?” he answered, twitting him. “Then do you fancy they are so fond as all that of the Republic at Marseille? Listen to this. What ever happens the Liberals will be beaten in this good city. Have no fear. If Cayol can be caught in some fray, his business will be settled. Before a fortnight’s over our merchants will have had enough of liberty, and will want to strangle all those who serve it out to them.”
The ex-deputy remembered the manoeuvres that had brought about his election and could not repress a smile. His acolyte was right: where money is all-powerful, Republican ideas do not flourish.
“I have no need,” continued Mathéus, “to expose my entire plan to you. Remain quiet and I feel sure of handing father and son over to you. We will begin the expedition to Saint Barnabé again, but in a more intelligent manner.”
And as his master renewed his thanks he bluntly added:
“But look here, you must not have me collared with the other Republicans to get rid of me? I am compromising myself, and require a guarantee. Write me a letter instructing me to watch over Philippe Cayol. In that way you become my accomplice. I will return you that letter in exchange for a sum of money, which we will arrange between us, in payment for my services.”
M. de Cazalis consented to everything. He could not for the matter of that do otherwise, and he felt he would always have power over Mathéus on account of the money.
The latter before leaving, urged him to remain quiet in his hotel as he wished to act alone.
CHAPTER XII
THE REPUBLIC AT MARSEILLE
THE Republic was at last solemnly proclaimed on the Cannebière, on the dull, wet morning of Tuesday, February 29th. At the very moment when the former authorities were divesting themselves of office, the temporary Commissary that Paris had sent to Marseille, was descending the Rue d’Aix in a post-chaise. Thus, by a singular chance, during the march past of the troops and the National Guard, the representatives of overthrown Royalty and of the young Republic were brought face to face.
That day was a grand and solemn one for Philippe. His fondest hopes were realised. For a moment he had feared that the Monarchy might be followed by a Regency. The length of time that the Prefect and Mayor of Marseille had taken to recognise the Revolution, had made him think that the struggle at Paris had perhaps not been decisive. They were gaining time, they were no doubt hoping for a reaction that was not forthcoming. When he heard the new government publicly proclaimed, it seemed to him that the people had just won a grand victory and he firmly believed that the hour of the great democratic cause had arrived.
But the hopes the young man had formed on hearing those big words, “liberty, equality, fraternity,” pronounced, were not long in being dispelled by facts. He fell down from the heights of his humanitarian dreams to the reality of human passions and interests. This terrible fall exasperated him and drove him to extreme resolutions.
He had had the simplicity, to imagine that the proclamation of the Republic would be followed by a great movement, which would carry all the city along with it into a Liberal channel. He was painfully surprised when he perceived that the superior authorities, urged on, no doubt, by the fatality of circumstances, were obliged to make concessions to the reaction. The Conservatives, the Legitimists, themselves, remained in a measure the masters at Marseille. Creatures of their own occupied official posts and secretly directed public affairs. In a word the city tolerated the new government rather than accepted it.
When the Republicans understood that they were not victorious, they wished at least to despatch representatives to Paris, who would be firmly resolved to defend the people’s interests, and so the ensuing elections absorbed all their power of action. They felt how precious a victory would be to them, and ardently hoped that the deputies would be chosen from their ranks alone.
These elections were to be held on April 23. During the three weeks preceding that date, Philippe took an active part in the work and manoeuvres of the different clubs. The democratic party had suffered a preliminary check on the occasion of the appointment of a Municipal Commission on which men hostile to the Republic had found seats, notwithstanding the desire openly expressed by the Republicans that they should be excluded. And so the clubs, in order not to be beaten a second time, displayed great activity and energy. They drew up preliminary lists, instructed the people in their political catechism and strained every nerve to make their cause triumph.
During these three feverish weeks, Philippe continued to throw dust into his own eyes. He forgot what was the real feeling in the city and would not see the formidable reaction that was surrounding the small group of Liberals. From morn to eve he ran about Marseille, encouraging some, thanking others and endeavouring to obtain the largest number of votes possible. He undertook, moreover, to sound certain people whom the Republicans wished to make their representatives, and who by reason of their modesty, or from some other cause, remained in the background. Among these was M. Martelly.
One morning, Philippe went to his office where he was now very rarely seen, and sent to ask the shipowner for a short interview. M. Martelly received him it once. He understood that it was not as one of his staff that the young man came to pay him a visit; he did not allude to his frequent absence, but treated him as a friend, guessing the nature of the errand that brought him to his presence.
After one or two commonplace sentences, Philippe entered frankly into his business.
“I have not seen you for some time at the Workers’ Club,” he said. “You are a member, are you not?”
“Yes,” replied the shipowner. “I go there very rarely, I think that such gatherings do but little to advance the affairs of liberalism.”
Philippe feigned not to hear.
“Your absence is often regretted,” he continued. “Men like you are precious. You were wrong, one of my colleagues said to me yesterday, to have kept in the background on the occasion of the appointment of the Municipal Commission, and now that the elections are drawing near you ought to show yourself and lend all the weight of your honourability to the cause we are defending.”
M. Martelly did not answer. He looked his interlocutor in the face, to compel him to make his proposals clear and precise.
Philippe understood him and conformed with good grace.
“We are quite disposed to push your candidature forward,” he continued. “Why do you not place yourself in the ranks?”
There was a moment’s silence during which the shipowner look grave and sad.
“Why?” he answered slowly, “because I am certain beforehand to fail. Allow me to speak to you as a friend, as a father. You are going to your ruin, my son. The Republic will kill you, and you will kill the Republic. You know what my convictions are, you do not doubt, I hope, that I am ready to spend my blood for the triumph of what is right and true. But, really, we do not find ourselves here in a centre where self-sacrifice can be of use. We are vanquished before having fought. I thought for a moment of repairing to Paris, of offering my services to the government, of assisting it both personally and with my fortune. At Marseille I have my hands tied. So I have decided to remain aside, for I will not mix in all the dirty business I foresee ahead.”
“Then you