'Oh, yes, I assure you there was. It was quite necessary to do something,' replied the young deputy with animation. 'It is just in that respect that his genius——'
Then he lowered his voice, and with a profound expression began to explain the political situation. The charges issued by the bishops on the subject of the Pope's temporal power, which was threatened by the government of Turin, were greatly disturbing the Emperor. On the other hand, the opposition was growing more active, and an uneasy thrill was passing through the country. So the moment had come for making an attempt to reconcile the different parties, and win political malcontents over by wise concessions. La Rouquette now considered that the despotic Empire had been very defective; whereas the liberal Empire would be a blaze of glory, illumining the whole of Europe.
'Well, I'm still of opinion that he has gone too fast,' repeated M. de Lamberthon, again shaking his head. 'It's all very well to talk about the liberal Empire; but the liberal Empire is the Unknown, my dear sir; the Unknown, the Unknown——'
He thrice repeated this expression, each time in a different tone, and waving his hand in the air. M. La Rouquette said nothing further; he was finishing his grog. However, they still sat where they were, gazing blankly out of the open window, as though they were looking for the unknown fate of the liberal Empire across the quay, in the direction of the Tuileries, where hung a thick grey haze. Behind them, beyond the lobbies, the hurricane of voices rose afresh, with the uproar of an approaching storm.
M. de Lamberthon turned his head uneasily. 'It's Rougon who is going to reply, isn't it?' he asked after a pause.
'Yes, I believe so,' replied M. La Rouquette with an air of reserve.
'He was very much compromised,' the old deputy continued. 'The Emperor has made a singular choice in appointing him as a minister without department, and commissioning him to defend his new policy.'
M. La Rouquette did not immediately express an opinion, but slowly stroked his fair moustache. 'The Emperor knows Rougon,' he said at last.
Then in in quite a different tone he exclaimed: 'I say, these grogs were not up to much. I'm dreadfully thirsty. I think I shall have a glass of syrup and water.'
He ordered one, and, after some hesitation, M. de Lamberthon decided that he would have a glass of Madeira. Then they began to talk of Madame de Lamberthon, and the old deputy chided his young colleague for the rarity of his visits. The latter was lounging back on the settee, furtively admiring himself in the mirrors, quite pleased by the soft green tint of the walls, and the general freshness of the buvette, which seemed almost like a Pompadour arbour reared in some princely forest for love assignations.