Julien presented himself to the marquis the next morning in his black suit, with his letter case and his letters for signature. He was received in the old way, but when he wore the blue suit that evening, the marquis’s tone was quite different, and absolutely as polite as on the previous day.
“As you are not exactly bored,” said the marquis to him, “by these visits which you are kind enough to pay to a poor old man, you must tell him about all the little incidents of your life, but you must be frank and think of nothing except narrating them clearly and in an amusing way. For one must amuse oneself,” continued the marquis. “That’s the only reality in life. I can’t have my life saved in a battle every day, or get a present of a million francs every day, but if I had Rivarol here by my sofa he would rid me every day of an hour of suffering and boredom. I saw a lot of him at Hamburg during the emigration.”
And the marquis told Julien the stories of Rivarol and the inhabitants of Hamburg who needed the combined efforts of four individuals to understand an epigram. M. de la Mole, being reduced to the society of this little abbé, tried to teach him. He put Julien’s pride on its mettle. As he was asked to speak the truth, Julien resolved to tell everything, but to suppress two things, his fanatical admiration for the name which irritated the marquis, and that complete scepticism, which was not particularly appropriate to a prospective curé. His little affair with the chevalier de Beauvoisis came in very handy. The marquis laughed till the tears came into his eyes at the scene in the café in the Rue St. Honoré with the coachman who had loaded him with sordid insults. The occasion was marked by a complete frankness between the marquis and the protégé.
M. de la Mole became interested in this singular character. At the beginning he had encouraged Julian’s droll blunders in order to enjoy laughing at them. Soon he found it more interesting to correct very gently this young man’s false outlook on life.
“All other provincials who come to Paris admire everything,” thought the marquis. “This one hates everything. They have too much affectation; he has not affectation enough; and fools take him for a fool.”
The attack of gout was protracted by the great winter cold and lasted some months.
“One gets quite attached to a fine spaniel,” thought the marquis. “Why should I be so ashamed of being attached to this little abbé? He is original. I treat him as a son. Well, where’s the bother? The whim, if it lasts, will cost me a diamond and five hundred louis in my will.” Once the marquis had realised his protégé’s strength of character, he entrusted him with some new business every day.
Julien noticed with alarm that this great lord would often give him inconsistent orders with regard to the same matter.
That might compromise him seriously. Julien now made a point whenever he worked with him, of bringing a register with him in which he wrote his instructions which the marquis initialled. Julien had now a clerk who would transcribe the instructions relating to each matter in a separate book. This book also contained a copy of all the letters.
This idea seemed at first absolutely boring and ridiculous, but in two months the marquis appreciated its advantages. Julien suggested to him that he should take a clerk out of a banker’s who was to keep proper book-keeping accounts of all the receipts and of all the expenses of the estates which Julien had been charged to administer.