"He! Monsieur le Ministre? Why, that is, Monsieur Eugène!"
"Ah! very good! That is right! The eternal Monsieur Eugène!"
Just then Warcolier opened the door, looking more morose than sad, and holding a letter that he crushed in his hand, while at the same time he greeted Vaudrey with a number of long phrases concerning the dreadful, unexpected, sudden, unlooked-for, crushing death—he did not select his epithets, but allowed them to flow as from an overrunning cask—the dramatic decease of Collard—of Nantes—. From time to time, Warcolier, while speaking, cast an involuntary, angry glance at the paper that he twisted in his fingers, so much so that Vaudrey, feeling puzzled, at last asked him what the letter was.
"Don't speak to me about it—" said the fat man. "An imbecile!"
"What imbecile?"
"An imbecile whom I received with some little courtesy the other morning—I who, nevertheless, go to so much trouble to make myself agreeable."
"And that is no sinecure!—Well, the imbecile in question?"
"Left furious, no doubt, because of the reception accorded him—and to me, me, the Under-Secretary of State, this is the letter that he writes, that he dares to write! Here, Monsieur le Ministre, listen! Was ever such stupidity seen? 'Monsieur le Secrétaire d'Etat, you have under your orders a very badly trained Undersecretary of State, who will make you many enemies, I warn you. As you are his direct superior, I permit myself to notify you of his conduct,' etc., etc. You laugh?" said Warcolier, seeing that a smile was spreading over Vaudrey's blond-bearded face.
"Yes, it is so odd!—Your correspondent is evidently ignorant that there are only Under-Secretaries of State in the administration!—unless this innocent is but simply an insolent fellow."
"If I thought that!" said Warcolier, enraged. "No, but it is true," he said with astonishing candor, a complete overflowing of his satisfied egotism, "there are a lot of people who ask for everything and are good for nothing!—Malcontents!—I should like to know why they are malcontents!—What are they dreaming about, then? What do they want? I am asking myself ever since I came into office: What is it they want? Doesn't the present government carry out the will of the majority?—It is just like those journalists with their nagging articles!—They squall and mock! What they print is disgusting! Granted that we have demanded liberty, but that does not mean license!"