“But what article? what action?” said the proprietor of the “Echo,” getting quite beside himself.
“The article of this morning,” said Minard.
“The article of this morning?”
“Ah ca! did you write it when you were asleep; or, like Monsieur Jourdain doing prose, do you do heroism without knowing it?”
“I! I haven’t written any article!” cried Thuillier. “I have been away from Paris for a day, and I don’t even know what is in this morning’s paper; and the office-boy is not here to give me a copy.”
“I have one,” said Minard, pulling the much desired paper from his pocket. “If the article is not years you have certainly inspired it; in any case, the deed is done.”
Thuillier hurriedly unfolded the sheet Minard had given him, and devoured rather than read the following article:—
Long enough has the proprietor of this regenerated journal
submitted without complaint and without reply to the cowardly
insinuations with which a venal press insults all citizens who,
strong in their convictions, refuse to pass beneath the Caudine
Forks of power. Long enough has a man, who has already given
proofs of devotion and abnegation in the important functions of
the aedility of Paris, allowed these sheets to call him ambitious
and self-seeking. Monsieur Jerome Thuillier, strong in his
dignity, has suffered such coarse attacks to pass him with
contempt. Encouraged by this disdainful silence, the stipendiaries
of the press have dared to write that this journal, a work of
conviction and of the most disinterested patriotism, was but the
stepping-stone of a man, the speculation of a seeker for election.
Monsieur Jerome Thuillier has held himself impassible before these
shameful imputations because justice and truth are patient, and he
bided his time to scotch the reptile. That time has come.
“That deuce of a Peyrade!” said Thuillier, stopping short; “how he does touch it off!”
“It is magnificent!” cried Minard.