Bixiou. “No, I am not. Rabourdin resigns in a rage at finding Baudoyer appointed director.”
Vimeux [entering.] “Nonsense, no such thing! Antoine (to whom I have just been paying forty francs that I owed him) tells me that Monsieur and Madame Rabourdin were at the minister’s private party last night and stayed till midnight. His Excellency escorted Madame Rabourdin to the staircase. It seems she was divinely dressed. In short, it is quite certain that Rabourdin is to be director. Riffe, the secretary’s copying clerk, told me he sat up all the night before to draw the papers; it is no longer a secret. Monsieur Clergeot is retired. After thirty years’ service that’s no misfortune. Monsieur Cochlin, who is rich—”
Bixiou. “By cochineal.”
Vimeux. “Yes, cochineal; he’s a partner in the house of Matifat, rue des Lombards. Well, he is retired; so is Poiret. Neither is to be replaced. So much is certain; the rest is all conjecture. The appointment of Monsieur Rabourdin is to be announced this morning; they are afraid of intrigues.”
Bixiou. “What intrigues?”
Fleury. “Baudoyer’s, confound him! The priests uphold him; here’s another article in the liberal journal,—only half a dozen lines, but they are queer” [reads]:
“Certain persons spoke last night in the lobby of the Opera-house
of the return of Monsieur de Chateaubriand to the ministry, basing
their opinion on the choice made of Monsieur Rabourdin (the
protege of friends of the noble viscount) to fill the office for
which Monsieur Baudoyer was first selected. The clerical party is
not likely to withdraw unless in deference to the great writer.
“Blackguards!”
Dutocq [entering, having heard the whole discussion]. “Blackguards! Who? Rabourdin? Then you know the news?”
Fleury [rolling his eyes savagely]. “Rabourdin a blackguard! Are you mad, Dutocq? do you want a ball in your brains to give them weight?”