It is really too ridiculous."
The vulgar, blinded as they are by the love of money, were constitutionally incapable of understanding that it was in his own sincerity that the abbe Pirard had found the necessary strength to fight for six years against Marie Alacoque, the Sacre C?ur de Jesus, the Jesuits and his Bishop. _____
CHAPTER XXX
AN AMBITIOUS MAN _____
There is only one nobility, the title of duke; a marquis is ridiculous; the word duke makes one turn round.—Edinburgh Review. _____
The Marquis de la Mole received the abbe Pirard without any of those aristocratic mannerisms whose very politeness is at the same time so impertinent to one who understands them.
It would have been a waste of time, and the Marquis was sufficiently expeditious in big affairs to have no time to lose.
He had been intriguing for six months to get both the king and people to accept a minister who, as a matter of gratitude, was to make him a Duke.
The Marquis had been asking his Besancon advocate for years on end for a clear and precise summary of his Franche-Comte lawsuits.
How could the celebrated advocate explain to him what he did not understand himself?
The little square of paper which the abbe handed him explained the whole matter.
"My dear abbe," said the Marquis to him, having got through in less than five minutes all polite formulae of personal questions. "My dear abbe, in the midst of my pretended prosperity I lack the time to occupy myself seriously with two little matters which are rather important, my family and my affairs.
I manage the fortune of my house on a large scale. I can carry it far.
I manage my pleasures, and that is the first consideration in my eyes," he added, as he saw a look of astonishment in the abbe Pirard's eyes.
Although a man of common sense, the abbe was surprised to hear a man talk so frankly about his pleasures.
"Work doubtless exists in Paris," continued the great lord, "but it is perched on the fifth story, and as soon as I take anyone up, he takes an apartment on the second floor, and his wife starts a day at home; the result is no more work and no more efforts except either to be, or appear to be, a society man.
That is the only thing they bother about, as soon as they have got their bread and butter.
"For my lawsuits, yes, for every single one of them, I have, to put it plainly, advocates who quarrel to death. One died of consumption the day before yesterday.
Taking my business all round, would you believe, monsieur, that for three years I have given up all hope of finding a man who deigns, during the time he is acting as my clerk, to give a little serious thought to what he is doing.
Besides, all this is only a preliminary.
"I respect you and would venture to add that, although I only see you for the first time to-day, I like you.
Will you be my secretary at a salary of eight hundred francs or even double.
I shall still be the gainer by it, I swear to you, and I will manage to reserve that fine living for you for the day when we shall no longer be able to agree."
The abbe refused, but the genuine embarrassment in which he saw the Marquis suggested an idea to him towards the end of the conversation.
"I have left in the depths of my seminary a poor young man who, if I mistake not, will be harshly persecuted.
If he were only a simple monk he would be already in pace.
So far this young man only knows Latin and the Holy Scriptures, but it is not impossible that he will one day exhibit great talent, either for preaching or the guiding of souls.
I do not know what he will do, but he has the sacred fire. He may go far.
I thought of giving him to our Bishop, if we had ever had one who was a little of your way of considering men and things."
"What is your young man's extraction?" said the Marquis.
"He is said to be the son of a carpenter in our mountains. I rather believe he is the natural son of some rich man.
I have seen him receive an anonymous or pseudonymous letter with a bill for five hundred francs."
"Oh, it is Julien Sorel," said the Marquis.
"How do you know his name?" said the abbe, in astonishment, reddening at his question.
"That's what I'm not going to tell you," answered the Marquis.
"Well," replied the abbe, "you might try making him your secretary. He has energy. He has a logical mind. In a word, it's worth trying."
"Why not?" said the Marquis.
"But would he be the kind of man to allow his palm to be greased by the Prefect of Police or any one else and then spy on me?
That is only my objection."
After hearing the favourable assurances of the abbe Pirard, the Marquis took a thousand franc note.
"Send this journey money to Julien Sorel. Let him come to me."
"One sees at once," said the abbe Pirard, "that you live in Paris.
You do not know the tyranny which weighs us poor provincials down, and particularly those priests who are not friendly to the Jesuits.
They will refuse to let Julien Sorel leave. They will manage to cloak themselves in the most clever excuses. They will answer me that he is ill, that his letters were lost in the post, etc., etc."
"I will get a letter from the minister to the Bishop, one of these days," answered the Marquis.
"I was forgetting to warn you of one thing," said the abbe.
"This young man, though of low birth, has a high spirit.
He will be of no use if you madden his pride. You will make him stupid."
"That pleases me," said the Marquis.
"I will make him my son's comrade.