France -- Politics and government -- 19th century -- Fiction; French fiction -- Translations into English
“Though I make two sous by all his breakfasts,” muttered Antoine, as he
heard Monsieur Dutocq close the office door, “I’d give them up to get
that man out of our division.”
“Ah, Monsieur Sebastien, you are not the first here to-day,” said
Antoine, a quarter of an hour later, to the supernumerary.
“Who is here?” asked the poor lad, turning pale.
“Monsieur Dutocq,” answered Laurent.
Virgin natures have, beyond all others, the inexplicable gift of
second-sight, the reason of which lies perhaps in the purity of their
nervous systems, which are, as it were, brand-new. Sebastien had long
guessed Dutocq’s hatred to his revered Rabourdin. So that when Laurent
uttered his name a dreadful presentiment took possession of the lad’s
mind, and crying out, “I feared it!” he flew like an arrow into the
corridor.
“There is going to be a row in the division,” said Antoine, shaking his
white head as he put on his livery. “It is very certain that Monsieur le
baron is off to his account. Yes, Madame Gruget, the nurse, told me he
couldn’t live through the day. What a stir there’ll be! oh! won’t there!
Go along, you fellows, and see if the stoves are drawing properly.
Heavens and earth! our world is coming down about our ears.”
“That poor young one,” said Laurent, “had a sort of sunstroke when he
heard that Jesuit of a Dutocq had got here before him.”
“I have told him a dozen times,--for after all one ought to tell the
truth to an honest clerk, and what I call an honest clerk is one like
that little fellow who gives us ‘recta’ his ten francs on New-Year’s
day,--I have said to him again and again: The more you work the more
they’ll make you work, and they won’t promote you. He doesn’t listen to
me; he tires himself out staying here till five o’clock, an hour after
all the others have gone. Folly! he’ll never get on that way! The proof
is that not a word has been said about giving him an appointment, though
he has been here two years. It’s a shame! it makes my blood boil.”
“Monsieur Rabourdin is very fond of Monsieur Sebastien,” said Laurent.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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