The sub-engineer of the arrondissement, the secretary of the mayor’s office, four sheriffs, three solicitors, the clerk of the court, and the clerk of the justice of the peace, the registry-clerk, and the tax-collector, all officials under government, two doctors, rivals of Varlet, Grevin’s brother-in-law, a miller named Laurent Goussard, the head of the republicans of Arcis, the two assistant mayors, the printer and publisher of Arcis, and about a dozen other bourgeois arrived in succession, and walked about the garden until the gathering seemed numerous enough to admit of opening the session.
At length, about mid-day, fifty men, all in their best clothes,—most of them having come out of curiosity to see the handsome salons which were much talked of throughout the arrondissement,—were seated on the chairs Madame Marion had provided for them. The windows were left open, and presently so deep a silence reigned that the rustle of Madame Marion’s gown was heard,—that good woman not being able to resist the pleasure of descending to the garden and placing herself in a corner whence she could listen to what went on in the salon. The cook, the chamber-maid, and the man-servant stood in the dining-room and shared the emotions of their masters.
“Messieurs,” said Simon Giguet, “some among you desire to honor my father by asking him to preside at this meeting; but Colonel Giguet requests me to present his thanks, and express due gratitude for a desire in which he sees a reward for his services to the country. We are in his house; he thinks he ought, therefore, to decline those functions, and he desires to propose in his stead an honorable merchant on whom your suffrages have already bestowed the chief magistracy of this town, Monsieur Phileas Beauvisage.”
“Bravo! bravo!”
“We are, I think, all of one mind in adopting for this meeting—essentially friendly, but entirely free, which will prejudice in no way whatever the great preparatory and primary meeting in which you will produce your candidates and weigh their merits—in adopting, as I said, the parliamentary and constitutional—forms—of the—electoral Chamber.”
“Yes, yes!” cried the assembly with one voice.
“Consequently,” continued Simon, “I have the honor to request, according to the wish of all present, that his honor the mayor will now take the chair.”
Phileas rose and crossed the salon, conscious that he was becoming as red as a cherry. Then, when he stood behind the table, he saw, not a hundred eyes, but a hundred thousand candles. The sun seemed to him to be setting fire to the salon, and he had, to use his own expression, a lump of salt in his throat.
“Return thanks,” said Simon, in a low voice.
“Messieurs—”