Abbé Faujas smiled.
'It is dangerous to mention names,' he said. 'There wouldn't be a scrap of our candidate left in a week's time if we made his name known now. The Marquis de Lagrifoul has become quite out of the question. Monsieur de Bourdeu, who reckons upon being a candidate, is still more so. We shall leave them to destroy each other, and then, at the last moment, we shall come forward. Just say that an election on purely political grounds would be very regrettable, and that what is needed for the interests of Plassans is somebody who is not a party man, but has an intimate knowledge of the requirements of the town and the department. And you may let it be understood that such a man has been found; but don't go any further.'
The Bishop now in his turn smiled. He detained the priest for a moment as he was about to take leave.
'And Abbé Fenil?' he said, lowering his voice. 'Are you not afraid that he will do all he can to thwart your plans?'
Abbé Faujas shrugged his shoulders.
'He has made no sign at all,' he said.
'It is precisely that quietness of his that makes me uneasy,' rejoined the prelate. 'I know Fenil well. He is the most vindictive priest in my diocese. He may possibly have abandoned the ambition of beating you in the political arena, but you may be sure he will wreak personal vengeance upon you. I have no doubt that he is keeping a watch on you in his retirement.'
'Pooh!' said Abbé Faujas, showing his white teeth. 'I'll take care that he doesn't eat me up.'
Abbé Surin had just returned into the room, and when the vicar of Saint-Saturnin's had gone he made the Bishop laugh by exclaiming:
'Ah! if they could only devour each other like a couple of foxes, and leave nothing but their tails!'