“And you too!”
Congratulations were exchanged. But what completed the general satisfaction was to learn from the noble Baron Pipelnaz the approaching arrival of Monsieur le Préfet, of the Council of Revision. A thousand secret connections between this journey and Madame la Sous-Préfète’s ball were discovered. There was no doubt whatever that Monsieur le Préfet intended to be at the ball. What an event! All those who were invited looked at each other in a sort of ecstasy. To be at the same ball as Monsieur le Préfet! To take supper at the same table as Monsieur le Préfet!
Those who had not yet received their cards of invitation continued their play, exclaiming, “Three kings! three aces!” very loudly, and as if they had heard nothing of the conversation. The pastor himself appeared very grave, and read his newspaper with sustained attention; but they could not conceal their discomfiture, which was clearly to be read in their faces. They were deeply mortified, and greatly to be commiserated.
Small parties of intimate friends were formed to drink punch and mulled wine. Nothing was talked of on all sides but the grace of Madame la Sous-Préfète and the incomparable elegance of her suppers. The noble Baron Pipelnaz, mayor of the town, enlarged on the reception he intended to give Monsieur le Préfet. For twenty years Monsieur le Baron had bowed to him at the door of the Mairie; but, under circumstances so flattering, he proposed to go and meet him in full official costume, and even desired to present to him a short congratulatory address.
The arrival of the Procureur Kitzig interrupted this agreeable conversation. He was one of Pastor Schweitzer’s old comrades of the University of Strasbourg, and every day they played together a game of “Youker.” Fashionable society laughed at the vulgar manners of Procureur Kitzig, who did not know how properly to keep up his rank, and talked familiarly with anybody he happened to meet. Nobody ventured to do this to his face, however. Maître Kitzig occupied a high position at Saverne. Besides, who could be sure that at some time or other he might not have some little business or other with Monsieur le Procureur? Everybody, therefore, smiled on Monsieur le Procureur, who replied by a nod or a few significant words.
“You are very good, Monsieur le Procureur. You are too kind, Monsieur le Procureur.”
“Ha! ha! ha! What a farce!” whispered the pastor in Mathéus’s ear; “what a farce! Have you ever seen anything like it at Graufthal?”
But the illustrious philosopher made no answer. He had recognised in Maître Kitzig an individual of the canine race, for whom hares feel a very singular veneration.
At the end of a few moments Monsieur le Procureur joined his friend Schweitzer, shook hands with him, and bowed to Mathéus.