Months passed thus, the entire summer, the vacation of the Chamber, the
dull season in Paris. Adrienne set out for Dauphiny, where Vaudrey was
to preside over the Conseil-General, and she felt a childish delight on
finding herself once more in the old house at Grenoble, where she had
formerly been so happy! Yet even beneath this roof, within these walls,
the mute witnesses of his virtuous love, especially when alone, Vaudrey
thought of Marianne, he had but one idea, that of seeing her again, of
clasping her in his arms, and he wrote her passionate letters each day,
which she hardly glanced over and with a shrug of her shoulders burned
as of no importance.
In the depths of his province he grew weary of the continual bustle of
fetes, receptions held in his honor, addresses delivered by him,
ceremonies over which he had to preside, deputations received, statues
inaugurated. Statues! always statues! In the lesser towns, at Allevard
or Marestel, he was dragged from the _mairie_ to the _Grande Place_,
between rows of firemen, in noisy processions, whose accompanying brass
instruments split his ears, under pink-striped tents, draped with
tricolor flags, before interminable files of gymnastic societies, glee
clubs, corporate bodies, associations, Friends of Peace, or Friends of
War societies! Then wandering harangues; commonplace remarks, spun out;
addresses, sprinkled with Latin by professors of rhetoric; declarations
of political faith by eloquent municipal councillors, all delighted to
grab at a minister when the opportunity offered. How many such harangues
Vaudrey heard! More than in the Chamber. More thickly they came, more
compressed, more severe than in the Chamber. What advice, political
considerations and remonstrances winding up with demands for offices!
What cantatas that begged for subsidies! Everywhere demands: demands for
subsidies, demands for grants, demands for help, demands for
decorations! Nothing but harass, enervation, lassitude, deafening
clamor. They wished to kill him with their shouts: _Vive Vaudrey!_
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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