‘There was neither porter nor number to the entrance of that residence, and inquiries had to be made of the baker of the quarter as to the domicile of M. Dubois, a man of letters.
‘“There is,” answered the baker’s wife, “a person of that name, very poor, who inhabits an attic in the place. I do not know whether he is a public scribe, but he owes me two quarters’ rent.”
‘And issuing from her shop, she begins to bawl out the name at the top of her voice. The poor poet puts his head out of the window of his garret, and espying below a carriage escorted by gendarmes, comes there and then to the conclusion that the boldness of his remarks with regard to a universal peace has been badly received by Jupiter the Thunderer, and that they have come to arrest him in order to make him expiate his audacity at Bicêtre.
‘Prompted by his fear only, Dubois considers it most prudent to hide under his bed. Fouché, receiving no answer to the summons of the baker’s wife, makes up his mind to mount the six flights. A courtier does not stop at that when it becomes a question of proving his zeal to those in power. It would want the facetious genius of Beaumarchais or Lesage, or the comic talent of Potier, to paint the originality of the scene, and of the Minister finally discovering the protégé under the worm-eaten wooden structure that served him as a couch. Hence I abridge the particulars. Fouché reassures Dubois, and induces him to come forth from his improvised hiding-place. Regardless of the poet’s very profound négligé, he places him by his side in the carriage, which takes its way to the Ministry, where luncheon is soon served.
‘“What would you like to be, M. Dubois?” asks his Excellency in the interval between a dish of cutlets à la Soubise, made short work of by the famished poet, and a salmis de perdreaux equally appreciated, at any rate ocularly. “Now tell me what can I do for you?”
‘“I’ll be whatever your Excellency likes; and I shall be grateful for any kind of post.”
‘“Well, would you like to go to the island of Elba? I can give you the appointment of commissary general of police.”
‘“I’ll go to the end of the world in order to please your Excellency,” replies the poet, not quite sure whether for the last hour or so he has been awake or dreaming.
‘“Very well then, I’ll go and make out your nomination, and you’ll start to-morrow. On reaching Porto-Ferrajo you’ll find further instructions. Meanwhile take this on account of your stipend.” Saying which, Fouché presses a roll of napoleons into the poet’s hand. The latter’s luggage was the reverse of voluminous; it would have filled a big snuff-box, and did not take long to pack. Dubois engaged a place in the diligence, and, in imitation of the awakened sleeper, departed, like Sancho, for his island, which he reached without any further adventures.
‘It so happened that at that identical moment, two competitors were endeavouring to get the concession of the iron-ore mines of the island of Elba, the yield of which is very considerable. The new commissary-general of police seemed to enjoy immense credit in Paris. He was entrusted with an important charge in the administration of the island, and each of the competitors tried to secure his goodwill. One of these offered him an interest in his enterprise in return for his influence. The new functionary, who perceived himself to be on the high road to fortune, took particular care not to refuse the offer. He promised everything, and wrote to Paris whatever the speculator directed. Whether it was sheer accident or his recommendation that finally procured the concession for his partner will, perhaps, never be known, but the merit of it was attributed to the child of the Muses. He was, however, sharp enough to be aware of his utter ignorance with regard to the working of mines in no way connected with those of Parnassus, and sold his interest in them for three hundred thousand francs, which with equal good sense he invested in government securities, thus making his newly acquired wealth safe against all vicissitudes.