“Bah!” said Henri de Brécé. “We should have been acquitted, like Déroulède.”
“It’s possible, but Dupuy allowed us plenty of time to pull ourselves together after the funeral stampede, and I confess I am grateful to him for that. On the other hand, without ill will, possibly without intending it, he has done us a great deal of harm. Suddenly, just when we least expected such a thing, he appeared to be furiously angry with us. He made out that he was defending the Republic. His position demanded the attitude; I recognize that. It wasn’t a serious matter, but it had a bad effect. I get tired of telling you the same thing; that this country is conservative at heart. Unlike Méline, Dupuy did not tell people that we were the Republicans, that we were the Conservatives; for that matter, no one would have believed him if he had. During his ministry we lost something of our authority over the country. We were no longer on the side of the government. We were no longer reassuring; professional Republicans began to feel anxious about us. That was to our credit, but it was dangerous. Our position was not so good under Dupuy as under Méline, and it is worse to-day, under Waldeck-Rousseau, than it was under Dupuy. That’s the truth, the bitter truth.”
“Of course,” said Henri de Brécé, pulling his moustache, “of course the Waldeck-Millerand Ministry is actuated by the worst intentions, but I repeat it’s unpopular and it won’t last.”
“It may be unpopular,” returned Henri Léon, “but are you quite sure it won’t last long enough to do us harm? Unpopular governments last as long as popular ones. To begin with, no government is ever really popular. To govern is to displease. We are among ourselves and there is no need to mince matters. Do you for one moment imagine that we shall be popular when we form the government? Do you imagine, Brécé, that the people will weep with emotion when they see you attired as king’s chamberlain with a key hanging down your back? And you, Lacrisse, do you suppose you’ll be cheered in the working-class districts during a strike, when you are, say, prefect of police? Look at yourself in the glass and then tell me whether you look like an idol of the people. Don’t let us deceive ourselves. We say that the Waldeck-Millerand Cabinet is composed of idiots; we are quite right to say so, but we should be wrong to believe it.”
“What ought to encourage us,” said Joseph Lacrisse, “is the weakness of a government which cannot enforce obedience.”
“All our governments have been weak for many a long year,” said Henri Léon, “but they have always been strong enough to defeat us.”
“The Waldeck Ministry has not a single police-commissary at its disposal,” said Joseph Lacrisse. “Not one!”
“So much the better for us,” said Henri Léon, “for one would be enough to jug all three of us. I tell you the circle is closing in. Consider these words of a philosopher; they are worth the trouble: ‘Republicans govern badly, but they defend themselves well.’”
But Henri de Brécé, bending over his desk, was turning a second blot of ink into a beetle by the addition of a head, two antennæ and six legs. He gave a satisfied glance at his work, looked up and remarked:
“We still hold trump cards, the Army, the Church——”