'My lord, by those words you have condemned your vicar-general. I have never said otherwise than you have just said. Do not continue to make common cause with him or he will lead you into serious trouble. I have friends in Paris, whatever you may believe. I know that the Marquis de Lagrifoul's election has strongly predisposed the Government against you. Rightly or wrongly, they believe that you are the sole cause of the opposition movement which has manifested itself in Plassans, where the Minister, for special reasons, is most anxious to have a majority. If the Legitimist candidate should again succeed at the next election, it would be very awkward, and I should be considerably alarmed for your comfort.'
'But this is abominable!' cried the unhappy Bishop, rocking himself in his chair; 'I can't prevent the Legitimist candidate from being returned! I haven't got the least influence, and I never mix myself up in these matters at all. Really, there are times when I feel that I should like to shut myself up in a monastery. I could take my books with me, and lead a quiet, peaceful life there. It is Fenil who ought to be Bishop instead of me. If I were to listen to Fenil, I should get on the very worst terms with the Government. I should hearken only to Rome, and tell Paris to mind its own business. But that is not my nature, and I want to die in peace. The Minister, then, you say, is enraged with me?'
The priest made no reply. Two creases which appeared at the corners of his mouth gave his face an expression of silent scorn.
'Really,' continued the Bishop, 'if I thought it would please him if I were to appoint you Curé of Saint-Saturnin's, I would try to manage it. But I can assure you that you are mistaken. You are but little in the odour of sanctity.'
Abbé Faujas made a hasty movement of his hands, as he broke out impatiently:
'Have you forgotten that calumnies are circulated about me, and that I came to Plassans in a threadbare cassock? When they send a compromised man to a post of danger, they deny all knowledge of him till the day of triumph. Help me to succeed, my lord, and then you will see that I have friends in Paris.'
Then, as the Bishop, surprised to find in a priest such a bold adventurer, continued to gaze at him in silence, Faujas lapsed into a less assertive manner and continued:
'These, however, are suppositions, and what I mean is, that I have much to be pardoned. My friends are waiting to thank you till my position is completely established.'
Monseigneur Rousselot kept silence for a moment longer. He was a man of sharp understanding, and he had gained a knowledge of human failings from books. He was conscious of his own yielding character, and he was even a little ashamed of it; but he consoled himself for it by judging men for what they were worth. In the life of a learned epicurean, which he led, there were times when he felt supreme disdain for the ambitious men about him, who fought amongst themselves for a few stray shreds of his power.
'Well,' he said, with a smile, 'you are a pertinacious man, my dear Monsieur Faujas, and since I have made you a promise I will keep it. Six months ago, I confess, I should have been afraid of stirring up all Plassans against me, but you have succeeded in making yourself liked, and the ladies of the town often speak to me about you in very eulogistic terms. In appointing you Curé of Saint-Saturnin's, I am only paying the debt which we owe you for the Home of the Virgin.'