The powerful then began fawning on the lower class. Everyone went after the working-men. People intrigued for the favour of being associated with them. They became nobles.
Those of the canton were, for the most part, weavers; others worked in the cotton mills or at a paper factory lately established.
Gorju fascinated them by his bluster, taught them the shoe trick,[16] and brought those whom he treated as chums to Madame Castillon's house for a drink.
But the peasants were more numerous, and on market days M. de Faverges would walk about the green, make inquiries as to their wants, and try to convert them to his own ideas. They listened without answering, like Père Gouy, ready to accept any government so long as it reduced the taxes.
By dint of babbling, Gorju was making a name for himself. Perhaps they might send him into the Assembly!
M. de Faverges also was thinking of it, while seeking not to compromise himself.
The Conservatives oscillated between Foureau and Marescot, but, as the notary stuck to his office, Foureau was chosen—a boor, an idiot. The doctor waxed indignant. Rejected in the competition, he regretted Paris, and the consciousness of his wasted life gave him a morose air. A more distinguished career was about to open for him—what a revenge! He drew up a profession of faith, and went to read it to MM. Bouvard and Pécuchet.
They congratulated him upon it. Their opinions were identical with his. However, they wrote better, had a knowledge of history, and could cut as good a figure as he in the Chamber. Why not? But which of them ought to offer himself? And they entered upon a contest of delicacy.
Pécuchet preferred that it should be his friend rather than himself.
"No, it suits you better! you have a better deportment!"