Nevertheless, as my conscience was not perfectly easy, I clung to grandfather, who in case of need could ward off suspicions or bear the burden of responsibility. I even went with him to the Café des Navigateurs, though I had exhausted its pleasures and should have preferred another society. Martinod was unusually glad to see us.
“Father Rambert! What a pleasure to see you again! Father Rambert, sit here beside me in the place of honour.”
I observed that if he had formerly excelled in passing over the bills to others, he now kept open purse not only for his own drinks but for those of others. Gallus and Merinos perceived it sooner than I did and refused themselves no indulgence. As for Casenave and Galurin, they had never troubled themselves about the score. I had already before this remarked a complete change in Martinod; he was less and less concerned with oratorical effect, and no longer sought to dazzle us with descriptions of festivals where fraternal embraces were the general order. He produced lists and figures, enumerated proper names and with a bit of pencil which he moistened at his lips industriously addressed himself to checking them up.
A newspaper man having laid the local gazette upon a table, he called the servant to bring it to him in so imperious a voice that the girl was startled and came near upsetting a dish of food which she was carrying. Hardly had he unfolded the sheet when he cried:
“There it is! I was sure of it! He presents himself.”
He had no need of being more definitely designated. Every one in the café unhesitatingly recognised him, and I as well as the others. Our group, which up to that moment had probably not felt sure that he would be a candidate, appeared to be deeply impressed and indeed quite demoralised. All wore long faces as they bent over their tumblers. Secretly scanning them one by one, as an impartial outsider, I considered their party, however numerous, quite incapable of carrying on a contest against my father.
Martinod permitted the others, and especially the neophytes who formed a sort of court around him, and for whose drinks he paid, to start up, exclaim, though without naming the enemy, while he, inattentive or meditative, fixed grandfather with his eyes. As he continued for some time in this attitude, a passage from my natural history recurred to my mind, concerning a serpent that fascinated birds, and I laughed to myself at this absurd idea. For a long time he maintained his fixed gaze; then, after ordering drinks all around, except for me, whom he had forgotten, he leaned forward and in a fawning voice spoke in his neighbour’s ear, but not so softly but that I heard.
“So, Father Rambert, you are no longer in your own house?”
“How so?” replied grandfather indifferently.
“Why, no; that fine château that you live in isn’t yours now.”