What was the good of disturbing him in his ant-like activity? Lagier went towards the window, resolved to await him patiently. At the approach of a group of litigants, who had reached the court house before the doors were opened, two pigeons who were pecking in the sunny square, flew away and perched on the trefoil of the pointed arches ornamenting the belfry of Saint André. The over-restored monument opposite him reminded Lagier of Albert Derize's vehement invectives against architects; and, reading between the lines of the technical, obsolete expressions of the petition, he recalled the three actors of the drama which was soon to reach its conclusion before the amused magistrates. By a singular coincidence, all three had been factors of varying influence in his life.
Albert Derize was a college friend whom Lagier had chosen with that unerring instinct of youth, which, in later years, gives way to self-consciousness and hesitation. How brilliant was his career at the early age of thirty-nine! After graduating from the Charter School, he had gone to the Arsenal for a short time as assistant librarian. Faithful to his province while away, he had published a history of Lesdiguières, king of the mountains, in which the hard and cunning rogue of the 16th century stood out like the hero of a novel, and also a History of the Assembly at Vizille in 1789, which set forth in brief the spiritual and material conditions in Dauphiné on the eve of the Revolution. From that time fortune smiled on him. Despite his youth, the Academy awarded him the Grand Prix Gobert. A publisher, impressed by his self-confidence and success placed him at the head of a publishing enterprise in which he had long been stimulating interest in the best literary circles:—a monthly collection of biographies of great men, short, clear, eloquent and accurate and very cheap; by means of which he hoped to rouse young men from their apathy and to incite them by example to a more profitable use of their time. With that versatility of mind which is attracted by every great realization of life, Derize reserved for himself the treatment of some of the more pathetic and inspiring life stories, such as Pascal, Lavoisier, Marceau and Beethoven. In spite of this work, he continued to labor from year to year with tireless activity, on his "History of the Workman in Modern Life," in six volumes, a splendid treatise on the development of unions, of machinery, of manual labor and of economic and moral conditions. He was also writing a "History of the Peasant in the 19th Century" in which he gave free rein to his love of the soil, of agricultural labor and of country life, inherited from a line of husbandmen ancestors, and in which he showed by the reconstruction of vanished communities, both French and foreign, and by comparison with new social units, the inspiriting force of inheritance and of family ties. This work was to consist of four volumes: the second had just appeared. Le Play, Fustel de Coulanges or Taine, would have welcomed with joy this disciple, who was already a master, because of his positive method, his erudition, his regard for facts, and Taine, the greatest artist of the three, would have rejoiced in the warmth of his style and the coloring of his pictures.
In reconsidering his friend's successful career, Philippe Lagier, with the usual outcome of such dreams, began to think of his own achievements and concluded:
"He had luck. After all I am as able as he."
His friendship, although deep and of long standing, was not quite free from envy. He had deplored his narrow horizon and limited environment too often not to be envious of the freer, broader existence that Albert Derize enjoyed. He was his friend's equal in intellectual penetration, and was much quicker to perceive the ironical side of situations and characters, and to accept them at once at their true valuation. Because of the unexpected scope Derize gave to all subjects and observations, the contagious love of life which he spread about him, the inner flame which at all times flashed from his eyes, how indisputably did he relegate Lagier to the second place! And when one expected his enthusiasm to lead him into an error, an exaggeration or a false statement, he would right himself again as a careening boat with its sails too taut, by a skillful turn of the rudder, swings into its right course. A well-balanced mind and a passionate heart, one had to recognize him as a rare force with the power to enliven the hours by his presence, as his books animated them for his readers.
Philippe Lagier was interrupted in his impartial comparison by the entrance of M. Tabourin.
"I will be with you immediately, Chief. These people who were dispossessed were trying to retain their land."
He was referring to the peasants in their blue blouses and he disappeared again to argue with them.
Philippe remembered his unpleasant surprise when he had heard of the engagement of Albert and Elizabeth Molay-Norrois. He himself, at that time, was hesitating about asking for the hand of the young girl of nineteen, whom he thought too young, too worldly, judging her by her clothes; too conventionally pretty with her pastel complexion, her wondering eyes and that well-rounded form giving promise of developing into too stout a woman. He counted upon time to dispel his indecision, and had then been suddenly obliged to quit the field—which is always difficult. He had, however, quickly dismissed this sentimental dream, and had even been able to propose a toast on the wedding day, when with the usual commonplaces, he made a speech to the young couple who were "made for each other." Was not that reality outdone? This young man, already famous, whom the Molay-Norrois had been proud to welcome, despite the inferiority of his family, took with him to Paris a wife who was worthy of him and would help him in his easy ascent to success.
Why had not Lagier come first? Richer, of better family, a resident of Grenoble, what advantages he had to offer! He was constantly invited to the house. And Albert had come one fine day quite by chance. Fate willed it that Albert should always outstrip him. The petition for separation which carried his thoughts back, had revived his forgotten ill-will. He was tempted to rejoice at this misfortune, evidence of which would be filed on the following day. But then, less indulgent toward his own faults, he soon began a self-analysis.