“What do you mean—a drug?” demanded Lacrisse severely.
“A salutary drug, an efficacious remedy, a good medicine, but one that the patient will not swallow willingly nor with pleasure. We must not let the mixture settle. Shake the bottle before pouring out the dose, according to the precept of the wise chemist. At the present moment our Nationalist mixture, which has been well shaken, is of a beautiful pink colour, pleasant to look upon and of a slightly acid flavour which pleases the palate. If we let the bottle rest, the mixture will lose much of its colour and flavour. A sediment will form. The best will go to the bottom. The monarchical and clerical ingredients which enter into its composition will stick to the bottom, and the wily patient will leave three-quarters of it in the bottle. Shake it up, gentlemen, shake it up.”
“What did I tell you?” cried young Cadde.
“It is easy to say ‘shake it up,’ but it must be done at the right time, otherwise you run the risk of upsetting the electors,” objected Lacrisse.
“Oh,” said Léon, “of course, if you are thinking of your re-election!”
“Who said I was thinking of it? I’m not!”
“You are right, one mustn’t meet trouble so much more than half-way.”
“What? Trouble? You think my electors will change their minds?”
“On the contrary, I fear they will not. They were discontented and they have elected you. They will be discontented again in four years’ time, and then it will be with you. Would you like a word of advice, Lacrisse?”
“Go on.”