“I voted for him. When men refuse to live as brothers, so much the worse for them!”
“And so much the worse for you, as well, eh?” remarked Duveyrier, who, speaking but little, uttered some very profound observations.
Théophile, greatly scared, looked at him. Auguste no longer dared admit that he had also voted for Monsieur Thiers. Then every one was very much surprised to hear uncle Bachelard utter a legitimist profession of faith: he thought it the most genteel. Campardon seconded him warmly; he had abstained from voting himself, because the official candidate, Monsieur Dewinck, did not offer sufficient guarantees as regards religion; and he furiously declaimed against Renan’s “Life of Jesus,” which had recently made its appearance.
“It is not the book that should be burnt; it is the author,” repeated he.
“You are, perhaps, too radical, my friend,” interrupted the priest, in a conciliatory tone. “But, indeed, the symptoms are becoming terrible. There is some talk of driving away the pope, the revolution has invaded parliament. We are walking on the edge of a precipice.”
“So much the better!” said Doctor Juillerat, simply.
Then the others all protested. He renewed his attacks against the middle classes, prophesying that there would be a clean sweep the day when the masses wished to enjoy power in their turn; and the others loudly interrupted him, exclaiming that the middle classes represented the virtue, the industry, and the thrift of the nation. Duveyrier was at length able to make himself heard. He owned it before all: he had voted for Monsieur Dewinck, not that Monsieur Dewinck exactly represented his opinions, but because he was the symbol of order. Yes, the saturnalia of the Reign of Terror might one day return. Monsieur Rouher, that remarkable statesman who had just succeeded Monsieur Billault, had formally prophesied it in the Chamber. He concluded with these striking words:
“The triumph of the opposition is the preliminary subsidence of the structure. Take care that it does not crush you in falling!”
The other gentlemen held their peace, with the unavowed fear of having allowed themselves to be carried away even to compromising their personal safety. They beheld workmen begrimed with powder and blood, entering their homes, violating their maidservants and drinking their wine. No doubt, the Emperor deserved a lesson; only, they were beginning to regret having given him so severe a one.
“Be easy!” concluded the doctor, scoffingly. “We will manage to save you from the bullets.”