His Excellency [Son Exc. Eugène Rougon]Zola, Émile
History
His Excellency [Son Exc. Eugène Rougon]
Zola, Émile
France -- History -- Second Empire, 1852-1870 -- Fiction
'Well, then, that's settled!' said the minister, delighted to have
an opportunity of advancing one of his friends. 'You never ask for
anything for yourself, Monsieur Béjuin, so I must look after you.'
M. Béjuin smiled and expressed his thanks. It was quite true that he
never asked for anything, but he was always there, silent and modest,
on the look-out for such crumbs as might fall, and ready to pick them
up.
'Léon Béjuin--isn't it?--in the place of Pierre François Jusselin,'
continued Rougon, as he altered the names.
'Béjuin, Jusselin; they rhyme,' observed the Colonel.
This remark struck the company as being very witty, and caused a deal
of laughter. At last M. Bouchard took the signed documents away, and
Rougon rose. His legs were paining him a little, he said. The wet
weather affected him.
However, the morning was wearing on; a hum of life came from the
various offices; quick steps resounded in the neighbouring rooms;
doors were opened and closed, and whispers half-stifled by the velvet
hangings were wafted hither and thither. Several clerks came into the
room to obtain the minister's signature to other documents. It was a
continual coming and going, the administrative machine was in full
work, throwing out an enormous number of documents which were carried
from office to office. And amidst all this hurrying to and fro, a score
of people were wearily waiting in the ante-room till his excellency
should be graciously pleased to receive them. Rougon, meantime, began
to display feverish activity and energy; giving orders in a whisper
in one corner of his room, then suddenly storming at some official in
another, allotting some task, or deciding a knotty question with a
word, while he stood there, huge and domineering, his neck swollen, and
his face a picture of strength.
However, Merle came into the room again with that quiet composure which
no rebuffs could ruffle. 'The prefect of the Somme----' he began.
'Again!' interrupted Rougon violently.
The usher bowed and then resumed, 'The prefect of the Somme has begged
me to ask your excellency if you can receive him this morning. If your
excellency cannot, then he would be much obliged to your excellency if
you would kindly fix a time for to-morrow.'
'I will see him this morning. Confound it all, let him have a little
patience!'
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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