The Baron went without delay to see the Maréchal Prince de Wissembourg, whose high-powered protection was his last resource. Since he had been the old soldier’s protégé for thirty-five years, he had access to him at any time and could be admitted to his rooms first thing in the morning.
‘Oh, good morning, my dear Hector,’ said that great and kindly leader. ‘What’s the matter? You look worried. And yet the session’s finished. That’s another one over. I speak of these things now as I used to about our campaigns. In fact, I think the newspapers also call the sessions parliamentary campaigns.’
‘Indeed, we’ve had our troubles, Marshal. But it’s the difficulties of the time,’ said Hulot. ‘What can we do about it? That’s what the world is like. Every age has its problems. The greatest misfortune of 1841 is that neither the King nor his ministers have freedom of action as the Emperor had.’
The Marshal gave Hulot one of his eagle-like looks, whose pride, lucidity, and perspicacity showed that, in spite of the years, his fine spirit was still strong and vigorous.
‘You want me to do something for you?’ he asked, assuming a light-hearted manner.
‘I find myself compelled to ask you, as a personal favour, for the promotion of one of my assistant-managers and his appointment as an Officer of the Legion of Honour.’
‘What’s his name?’ asked the Marshal, casting a look like a lightning-flash at the Baron.
‘Marneffe.’
‘He has a pretty wife. I saw her at your daughter’s wedding. If Roger … but Roger’s no longer here. Hector, my boy, this is connected with your love affairs. What, you’re still at it? Oh! You do credit to the Imperial Guard! That’s what comes of having been in the Commissariat; you have reserves! Drop this affair, my dear boy; it’s too much a matter of gallantry to become an administrative concern.’
‘No, Marshal. It’s a bad business, for the law is involved. Do you want to see me brought before the police court?’
‘Oh, what the devil,’ exclaimed the Marshal, becoming serious. Go on.’
‘The fact is that you see me in the state of a fox caught in a trap. You’ve always been so kind to me that you’ll be good enough to extricate me from the shameful situation I’m in.’
Hulot related his misadventure as wittily and cheerfully as he could.
‘And, my dear Prince,’ he said in conclusion, ‘would you be willing to let my brother, whom you are so fond of, die of grief, and one of your Directors, a Councillor of State, be dishonoured? The Marneffe I speak of is a wretched creature; we’ll put him on the retired list in two or three years.’
‘How you talk of two or three years, my dear fellow!’ said the Marshal.
‘But, Prince, the Imperial Guard is immortal.’
‘I’m the only Marshal left of the first batch,’ said the Minister. ‘Listen. Hector. You don’t know how much I’m attached to you. You shall see. The day I leave the Ministry, we’ll leave together. Oh, you’re not a deputy, my friend. A lot of people want your job and, but for me, you’d have already lost it. Yes, I’ve broken many a lance in order to keep you…. Well, I’ll grant your two requests, for it would be too hard to see you in the dock at your age and in your position. But you’ve made too many inroads into your credit. If this appointment gives rise to a fuss, it will be held against us. It doesn’t matter as far as I’m concerned, but it’s another thorn in your side. At the next session, you’ll be fired. Your job is held out as a bait to five or six influential men and you’ve been kept in office only by my subtle reasoning. I said that the day you retired and your job was given to someone else, we’d have five malcontents and one happy man, while if we leave you in a shaky position for two or three years, we’d have our six votes. They began to laugh at the Council meeting and agreed that the veteran of the Old Guard, as they call me, was getting very clever at parliamentary tactics. … I tell you this frankly. Besides, you’re growing grey. What a lucky fellow you are still to be able to get into such scrapes. Where are the days when Sub-Lieutenant Cottin had mistresses?’
The Marshal rang.
‘That police report must be torn up,’ he added.
‘You’re acting like a father, Monseigneur. I didn’t dare tell you of my anxiety.’
‘I still wish Roger were here,’ cried the Marshal on seeing Mitouflet, his door-keeper, come in, ‘and I was going to send for him. You can go, Mitouflet. And, my old comrade in arms, you go and have this nomination drawn up and I’ll sign it. But that vile schemer won’t enjoy the fruit of his crimes for long. He’ll be watched and demoted before the whole company at the least fault. Now that you’re saved, my dear Hector, go carefully. Don’t wear your friends out. The nomination will be sent to you this morning, and your man will be an Officer of the Legion of Honour…. How old are you now?’
‘I’ll be 70 in three months’ time.’
‘What a lusty fellow you are,’ said the Marshal with a smile. ‘You’re the one who deserves promotion. But damn it all! We’re not in the age of Louis XV!’
Such is the effect of the comradeship which binds together the glorious remnants of the Napoleonic phalanx that they think they’re still in an army camp, bound to defend each other against all comers.
‘Another favour like that one,’ Hulot said to himself as he crossed the courtyard, ‘and I’m finished.’
The unhappy official went to see Baron de Nucingen, to whom he owed a trifling sum. He managed to borrow forty thousand francs from him by pledging his salary for two more years. But the Baron stipulated that, in the event of Hulot’s retirement, the disposable portion of his pension should be applied to the repayment of this amount, interest and capital in full.
This new transaction, like the first, was negotiated in the name of Vauvinet, to whom the Baron signed bills for twelve thousand francs.
The next day the fatal police report, the husband’s charge, and the letters were all destroyed. The scandalous promotions of Master Marneffe, barely noticed amid the bustle of the July festivities,* gave rise to no comment in the newspapers.