The registrar of the Palace found his friend's wife much to his taste. She was indeed a charming woman; an appearance of profound melancholy diffused over her countenance stamped it with an expression of deep interest. It has always been allowed that sadness is seductive in women, especially pretty women. It attracts all men without exception, even registrars,—for registrars are but men after all; and what man possessed with natural feeling would not wish to console a pretty woman in affliction, and, as the Citizen Dorat remarks, "Change the pale tint of the white rose to a livelier hue"?
The two registrars did ample justice to their excellent supper; it was only Madame Durand who ate nothing.
In the mean time conversation proceeded. The registrar inquired of his brother registrar—with a curiosity the more remarkable in these days, when such frightful dramas were daily enacted—concerning the customs of the Palace, the days of judgment, and the means of surveillance.
The registrar of the Palace, delighted at being listened to with so much deference, replied with the greatest complaisance, spoke of the manners of the jailers, of Fouquier Tinville, and lastly of Citizen Sanson, the principal actor in the tragedies daily performed upon the Place de la Révolution.
Then in his turn, addressing his colleague and host, he made various inquiries concerning his vocation and ministry.
"Oh!" said Durand, "I am not so well informed as yourself, being a person of much less importance, seeing that I am rather secretary to the registrar than the incumbent of the place. I do the work of the registrar-in-chief,—an obscure employment,—laborious for me, profitable for them; but that is the way with all bureaucracies, not excepting those of the Revolution. Heaven and earth may perhaps change one day, but these things never."
"Well, I will assist you, Citizen," said the registrar of the Palace, charmed with the excellence of his host's wine, and above all with the beautiful eyes of Madame Durand.
"Thanks!" said he to whom this offer had been made, "anything to vary the habits; and locality is some distraction to a poor employee. I wish to protract my work at the Conciergerie rather than to hasten it, and therefore thought if I might every day bring Madame Durand with me to the office, who is very dull here—"
"I do not see any inconvenience in that," said the registrar of the Palace, delighted with the prospect of the charming recreation afforded him by his colleague.
"She can dictate the papers," said the Citizen Durand; "and occasionally when our work is finished, if you have not found this evening unpleasant, you can return and spend an hour or two with us."