“To be sure, we understand your scruples, your hesitations. It’s a weighty undertaking and very expensive. If it must be, I will consent to be candidate in your place—just to please you.”
“Not you,” spoke up with authority a bearded individual in a blue blouse. “You wouldn’t get four votes. Monsieur Michel is another story.”
The gentleman, thus turned down, majestically buttoned up his frock coat.
When the intruders had retired, a discussion arose between father and mother, peaceful, grave and confidential. So absorbed were they that they did not notice that we were present.
“You can not,” said mother gently, almost quoting the stout gentleman. “Think of the expenses that we are bearing. You were obliged to buy the property in order to spare your father, and I encouraged your doing so, remember. In a family, all stand or fall together. The great schools are very expensive, for we do not get scholarships, though we have seven children. You are known to be hostile to the institutions under which we are governed. Within a few years we shall need to settle Louise, even though Mélanie will need but a small dowry. And besides, think of yourself. You are already working too hard, your patients absorb all your strength. I am afraid you will overdo. We are no longer in our first youth, my dear. The family is enough for us. The family is our first duty.”
Father was silent for a moment, as if weighing the pros and cons. Then he said:
“I do not forget the family. Don’t distress yourself about my health, Valentine. I have never felt myself more robust nor better able to endure fatigue. And I can not help thinking of the useful part which is offered me,—for to be mayor to-day is to be deputy to-morrow: to denounce to the country the gang that is cheating it and fattening upon it, to prepare the public mind for the return of the king—so necessary if we are to recover from defeat. All these plain folk who rely upon me touch my heart, and shake my resolution to hold myself aloof from public life. I have no personal ambition. But even here, surely here, there is a duty to fulfil.”
They were like alternating strophes in which the family and the country by turns made their pressing appeals.
My father’s picture of a restored France did not closely resemble that of Abbé Heurtevant, who trusted to miracles. He added circumstantial details which I could not follow, but in the end, without knowing exactly how, we got the impression that the aroused provinces would march promptly and joyfully under the authority of the prince who would address himself directly to them, and who at the same time would refer all religious matters to the Pope of Rome.
Father was so well able to command that I found it quite natural that the government should be entrusted to him, since the realm of the house was not enough for him, and he desired another. And besides, in that case he would be too busy to watch over my studies and my thoughts, which I well knew he talked over anxiously with mother, in the evenings.