CHAPTER XXXIII.
BLEUS.
The Haviland party were not the only people alive to the necessities of the contest. It was not seldom that in the Ontarian's walks during those few days, the steady, inscrutable bust of Grandmoulin passed him, driven in one direction or another by Libergent; and sometimes Picault accompanied.
Grandmoulin, indeed, made herculean efforts. His grand chefs d'oeuvre of oratory—soul stirring appeals, in the name of all that was sacred in honor and religion, for his hypocritical and corrupt purposes, were lifted in noble structures of eloquence before the people, till it seemed as if the lavishness of his genius and labor could only be explained by the desire of challenging the other great orator of the race. The young energies of Haviland responded readily. Their speeches were reported in full for the journals of the cities and watched for everywhere. It was the battle of Cataline and Cicero.
The back parishes were not so soundly "Red" as Dormillière: they usually polled a considerable Blue vote, and were very unstable. Here were concentrated the efforts of Grandmoulin to cajole and Picault to buy.
Once thus Chrysler met Libergent driving Grandmoulin in a "buck-board," while another person sat in the back seat.
"Chrysler! Chrysler!—Listen!" exclaimed the person in the back seat.
Chrysler recognized an Ottawa acquaintance.
"De Bleury! how do you do!"
De Bleury put his hand on the reins to stop the vehicle:
"Come up here, Chrysler, we go past the Manoir."
"Thank you, I enjoy walking."
"Come along, come along; we don't hear excuses in the country. Come,
Chrysler, the road is long."
In order not to offend, Chrysler, in spite of his objection to the company, took the unoccupied place behind Grandmoulin.
With Libergent, Chrysler did not reap much in conversation. He was conciliatory in his solitary-like way, and had indulged for once in too much liquor.
"Right Hon'ble Premier,—Sec' State.—Hon'ble Mr. Grandm'lin—all my fren's. You know dose gen'lmen? All my fren's. Da's all. My fren's goin' make it all right, eh? I re'spect'ble 'nough." The half-seas-confidential style.
Grandmoulin acknowledged the stranger but gravely, and was at once immutable—oppressed with thought for the country's welfare! As he sat before Chrysler, and the latter felt the nearness of his broad shoulders and coarse black mass of hair, he could not but picture the man within sinking into littleness and self-contempt at the debased uses of his great talent.