“In the first place, why do you go and say at the ball at the Russian Ambassador’s that there were three hundred thousand young men of twenty in France who passionately desire war? Do you think that is nice for the kings?”
“One doesn’t know what to do when talking to great diplomats,” said Julien. “They have a mania for starting serious discussions. If one confines oneself to the commonplaces of the papers, one is taken for a fool. If one indulges in some original truth, they are astonished and at a loss for an answer, and get you informed by the first Secretary of the Embassy at seven o’clock next day that your conduct has been unbecoming.”
“Not bad,” said the marquis laughing. “Anyway I will wager Monsieur Deep-one that you have not guessed what you went to do in England.”
“Pardon me,” answered Julien. “I went there to dine once a week with the king’s ambassador, who is the most polite of men.”
“You went to fetch this cross you see here,” said the marquis to him. “I do not want to make you leave off your black suit, and I have got accustomed to the more amusing tone I have assumed with the man who wears the blue suit. So understand this until further orders. When I see this cross, you will be my friend, the Duke of Chaulne’s younger son, who has been employed in the diplomatic service the last six months without having any idea of it. Observe,” added the marquis very seriously, cutting short all manifestations of thanks, “that I do not want you to forget your place. That is always a mistake and a misfortune both for patron and for dependent. When my lawsuits bore you, or when you no longer suit me, I will ask a good living like that of our good friend the abbé Pirard’s for you, and nothing more,” added the marquis dryly. This put Julien’s pride at its ease. He talked much more. He did not so frequently think himself insulted and aimed at by those phrases which are susceptible of some interpretation which is scarcely polite, and which anybody may give utterance to in the course of an animated conversation.
This cross earned him a singular visit. It was that of the baron de Valenod, who came to Paris to thank the Minister for his barony, and arrive at an understanding with him. He was going to be nominated mayor of Verrières, and to supersede M. de Rênal.
Julien did not fail to smile to himself when M. Valenod gave him to understand that they had just found out that M. de Rênal was a Jacobin. The fact was that the new baron was the ministerial candidate at the election for which they were all getting ready, and that it was M. de Rênal who was the Liberal candidate at the great electoral college of the department, which was, in fact, very ultra.
It was in vain that Julien tried to learn something about madame de Rênal. The baron seemed to remember their former rivalry, and was impenetrable. He concluded by canvassing Julien for his father’s vote at the election which was going to take place. Julien promised to write.
“You ought, monsieur le Chevalier, to present me to M. the marquis de la Mole.”
“I ought, as a matter of fact,” thought Julien. “But a rascal like that!”