During the public procession on the Feast of Corpus Christi, when Monseigneur Rousselot came down the steps of the magnificent altar, set up through the generosity of Madame de Condamin on the Place of the Sub-Prefecture, close to the very door of the small house she occupied, it was noticed with much surprise by the spectators that the Bishop abruptly turned his back upon Abbé Faujas.

\'Ah! has there been some disagreement between them!\' exclaimed Madame Rougon, who was looking out of her drawing-room window.

\'Didn\'t you know about it?\' asked Madame Paloque, who was leaning over by the old lady\'s side. \'It has been the talk of the town since yesterday. Abbé Fenil has been restored to favour.\'

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Monsieur de Condamin, who was standing behind the ladies, began to laugh. He had made his escape from his own house, saying that it smelt like a church.

\'Do you attach any importance to such trifles?\' said he. \'The Bishop is merely an old weathercock, turning one way or the other according as Faujas or Fenil blows against him; to-day it is one of them, to-morrow it will be the other. They have quarrelled and made it up again half a score times already. Before three days are over, you will see that Faujas will be the pet again.\'

\'I don\'t believe it,\' exclaimed Madame Paloque; \'it is serious this time. It seems that Abbé Faujas has caused his lordship a great deal of worry. It appears that he formerly preached some sermons which excited great displeasure at Rome. I can\'t explain the matter quite clearly, but I know that the Bishop has received reproachful letters from Rome, in which he is recommended to be on his guard. It is said that Abbé Faujas is simply a political agent.\'

\'Who says so?\' asked Madame Rougon, blinking her eyes as though to see the procession, which was then passing through the Rue de la Banne, more distinctly.

\'I heard it said, but I really don\'t remember by whom,\' the judge\'s wife replied carelessly.

Then she retired, saying that one would be able to get a better view from the side-window. Monsieur de Condamin, however, took the vacant place by Madame Rougon, and whispered in the old lady\'s ear:

\'I have already twice seen her going to Abbé Fenil\'s. They have some plot or other in hand, I\'m sure. Abbé Faujas must have trodden somehow or other on that viper of a woman, and she\'s trying to bite him. If she were not so ugly I would do her the service of telling her that her husband will never be presiding judge.\'

\'Why? I don\'t understand,\' murmured the old lady, with a guileless expression.

Monsieur de Condamin looked at her curiously, and then began to smile.

The last two gendarmes in the procession had just disappeared round the corner of the Cours Sauvaire, and the few guests whom Madame Rougon had invited to witness the blessing of the altar returned into the drawing-room, where they chatted for a moment about the Bishop\'s graciousness and the new banners of the different congregations, and[Pg 160] especially the one belonging to the girls of the Home of the Virgin, which had attracted much attention. The ladies were loud in their praises, and Abbé Faujas\'s name was mentioned every moment in the most eulogistic terms.

\'He is clearly a saint!\' sniggered Madame Paloque to Monsieur de Condamin, who had taken a seat near her.

Then, bending forward towards him, she added:

\'I could not speak openly before Madame Rougon, you know, but there is a great deal of talk about Abbé Faujas and Madame Mouret. I dare say those unpleasant reports have reached the Bishop\'s ears.\'

\'Madame Mouret is a charming woman, and extremely winning notwithstanding her forty years,\' was all that Monsieur de Condamin said in reply.

\'Oh, yes! she is very charming, very charming, indeed,\' murmured Madame Paloque, whose face turned quite green with spleen.

\'Extremely charming,\' persisted the conservator of rivers and forests. \'She is at the age of genuine passion and great happiness. You ladies are given to judging each other unfavourably.\'

Thereupon he left the drawing-room, chuckling over Madame Paloque\'s suppressed rage.

The town was now indeed taking an absorbing interest in the continual struggle that went on between Abbé Faujas and Abbé Fenil for influence over the Bishop. It was a ceaseless combat, like the struggles of a couple of buxom housekeepers for the affection of an old dotard. The Bishop smiled knowingly; he had discovered how to maintain a kind of equilibrium between these opposing forces which he pitted one against the other, amused at seeing them overthrown in turn, and securing peace for himself by accepting the services of the one who temporarily gained the upper hand. To the dreadful stories which were told him to the detriment of his favourites, he paid but little attention, for he knew that the rival Abbés were capable of accusing each other of murder.

\'They are getting worse, my child,\' the Bishop said, in one of his expansive moments to Abbé Surin. \'I fancy that in the end Paris will carry the day, and Rome will get the worst of it; but I am not quite sure, and I shall leave them to wear each other out. When one has made an end of the other, things will be settled——By the way, just read me[Pg 161] the third Ode of Horace; I\'m afraid I\'ve translated one of the lines rather badly.\'

On the Tuesday after the public procession the weather was lovely. Laughter was heard both in the garden of the Rastoils and in that of the Sub-Prefect, and numerous guests were sitting under the trees. Abbé Faujas read his breviary in the Mourets\' garden after his usual custom, while slowly walking up and down beside the tall hedges of box. For some days past he had kept the little door that led to the lane bolted; he was indeed coquetting with his neighbours and keeping aloof, in order that he might make them more anxious to see him. Possibly too he had noticed a slight coldness in their manner after his last misunderstanding with the Bishop, and the abominable reports that his enemies had circulated against him.

About five o\'clock, just as the sun was sinking, Abbé Surin proposed a game of shuttlecock to Monsieur Rastoil\'s daughters. He was very clever at it himself; and, notwithstanding the approach of their thirtieth year, both Angéline and Aurélie were immensely fond of games. When the servant brought the battledores, Abbé Surin, looking about him for a shady spot, for the garden was still bright with the last rays of the sun, was struck with an idea of which the young ladies cordially approved.

\'Shall we go and play in the Impasse des Chevillottes?\' he asked. \'We shall be shaded by the chestnut-trees there, and have more room.\'

They left the garden and started a most delightful game in the lane. The two girls began, and Angéline was the first who failed to keep the shuttlecock going. Abbé Surin, who took her place, handed his battledore with professional skill and ease. Having tucked his cassock between his legs, he sprang backwards and forwards and sideways without cessation. His battledore caught the shuttlecock as it reached the ground and sent it flying, now to a surprising height, and now straight ahead like a bullet; and at times made it describe the most graceful curves. As a rule he preferred to be pitted against poor players, who, as they struck the shuttlecock at random, or, to use his own phrase, without any rhythm, brought all the skilful agility of his own play into exercise. Mademoiselle Aurélie, however, played a fair game. She vented a little cry like a swallow\'s every time she struck a blow with the battledore, and she laughed distractedly when the[Pg 162] shuttlecock alighted on the young Abbé\'s nose. Gathering up her skirts, she waited for its return, or leaped backward with a great rustling of petticoats when he vengefully gave it a smarter blow than usual. At last the shuttlecock fell into her hair, and she almost toppled over upon her back. This greatly amused them all. Angéline now took her sister\'s place; and every time that Abbé Faujas raised his eyes from his breviary as he paced the Mourets\' garden, he saw the white feathers of the shuttlecock skimming above the wall like a big butterfly.

\'Are you there, your reverence?\' all at once cried Angéline, at the little door. \'Our shuttlecock has fallen into your garden.\'

The Abbé picked up the shuttlecock, which had dropped at his feet, and made up his mind to open the door.

\'Oh, thank you! your reverence,\' said Aurélie, who had already taken the battledore. \'Only Angéline would ever make such a stroke. The other day when papa was watching us she sent the shuttlecock right against his ear with such a bang that he was quite deaf till the next day.\'

There was more laughter at this; and Abbé Surin, as rosy as a girl, delicately dabbed his brow with a handkerchief of fine texture. He pushed his fair hair behind his ears, and stood there with glistening eyes and flexible figure, using his battledore as a fan. In the excitement of the game his bands had got slightly displaced.

\'Monsieur le Curé,\' said he, as he took up his position again, \'you shall be umpire.\'

Abbé Faujas, holding his breviary under his arm and smiling paternally, stood on the threshold of the little doorway. Through the cart-entrance of the Sub-Prefecture, which was half open, he could see Monsieur Péqueur des Saulaies seated in front of the cascade amidst his friends. The priest looked straight in front of him, however, and counted the points of the game, while complimenting Abbé Surin and consoling the young ladies.

\'I tell you what, Péqueur,\' said Monsieur de Condamin, in a whisper, in the sub-prefect\'s ear, \'you make a mistake in not inviting that little Abbé to your parties. He is a great favourite with the ladies, and he looks as though he could waltz to perfection.\'

Monsieur Péqueur des Saulaies, who was talking to Monsieur Delangre with much animation, did not however appear[Pg 163] to hear the other, but went on with his conversation with the mayor.

\'Really, my dear sir,\' he said, \'I don\'t know where you see all the merits that you profess to find in him. On the contrary, indeed, Abbé Faujas appears to me to be of very doubtful character. There is considerable suspicion attached to his past career, and strange things are said about him here. I really don\'t see why I should go down on my knees to this priest, especially as the clergy of Plassans are hostile to us. I should gain no advantage by doing so.\'

Monsieur Delangre and Monsieur de Condamin exchanged glances of intelligence, and then, by way of reply, nodded their heads.

\'None, whatever,\' continued the sub-prefect. \'It is no use pretending to look mysterious; I may tell you that I have myself written to Paris. I was a good deal bothered, and I wanted to be quite certain about this Faujas, whom you seem to look upon as a sort of prince in disguise. Well! do you know what reply I got? They told me that they did not know him and could tell me nothing about him, and that I must carefully avoid mixing myself up with clerical matters. They are grumpy enough in Paris as it is, since the election of that jackass Lagrifoul, and I have to be prudent, you understand.\'

The mayor exchanged another glance with the conservator of rivers and forests. He even slightly shrugged his shoulders before the correctly twirled moustaches of Monsieur Péqueur des Saulaies.

\'Just listen to me,\' he said to him after a moment\'s silence; \'you would like to be a prefect, wouldn\'t you?\'

The sub-prefect smiled as he rocked himself in his chair.

\'Well, then, go at once, and shake hands with Abbé Faujas, who is waiting for you down there, while he is watching them play at shuttlecock.\'

Monsieur Péqueur des Saulaies was silent with astonishment. He seemed quite puzzled, turned towards Monsieur de Condamin, and asked, with some show of uneasiness:

\'Is that your advice also?\'

\'Certainly; go and offer him your hand,\' replied the conservator of rivers and forests.

Then, with a slight touch of irony, he added:

\'Consult my wife, if you like; I know you have perfect confidence in her.\'

Madame de Condamin was just approaching them. She[Pg 164] was wearing a lovely pink and pearl-grey dress. When they spoke to her of the Abbé she said graciously to the sub-prefect:

\'It is very wrong of you to neglect your religious duties; one never sees you at church except perhaps when there is some official ceremony. It really distresses me very much, and I must try to convert you. What sort of opinion do you expect people will have of the government you represent, if they see you are not on the side of religion?—Leave us, gentlemen; I am going to confess Monsieur Péqueur.\'

She took a seat, smiling playfully.

\'Octavie,\' said the sub-prefect, in an undertone, when they were alone together, \'don\'t make fun of me. You weren\'t a very pious person in the Rue du Helder in Paris. It\'s all I can do to keep from laughing when I see you worshipping in Saint-Saturnin\'s.\'

\'You are too flippant, my friend,\' she replied, \'and your flippancy will play you a bad turn one of these days. Seriously, you quite distress me. I gave you credit for having more intelligence. Are you so blind that you cannot see that you are tottering in your position? Let me tell you that it is only from fear of alarming the Legitimists at Plassans that you haven\'t already been recalled. If the Legitimists saw a new sub-prefect arriving here, they would take alarm, whereas so long as you remain here they will continue quietly sleeping, feeling certain of victory at the next election. All this is not very flattering for you; I am aware of that, and the more so as I know positively that the authorities are acting without taking you into their confidence. Listen to me, my friend; I tell you that you are ruined if you don\'t divine certain things.\'

He looked at her with unfeigned alarm.

\'Has "the great man" been writing to you?\' he asked, referring to a personage whom they thus designated between themselves.

\'No; he has broken entirely with me. I am not a fool, and I saw, before he did, the necessity of the separation. And I have nothing at all to complain of. He has shown me the greatest kindness. He found me a husband and gave me some excellent advice, which has proved extremely useful to me. But I have retained friends in Paris; and I swear to you that you have only just got time left to cling on to the branches if you don\'t want to fall. Don\'t be a pagan any[Pg 165] longer, but go and offer your hand to Abbé Faujas. You will understand why later on, even if you can\'t guess it to-day.\'

Monsieur Péqueur des Saulaies lowered his eyes and seemed a little humiliated by the lesson he was receiving. He was very conceited, and, showing his white teeth, he tried to re-assert himself by murmuring tenderly:

\'Ah! if you had only been willing, Octavie, we might have governed Plassans between us. I asked you to resume that delightful life—\'

\'Really now, you are a great idiot!\' she interrupted in a tone of vexation. \'You annoy me with your "Octavie." I am Madame de Condamin to everyone, my friend. Can\'t you understand anything? I have an income of thirty thousand francs; I am queen of a whole Sub-Prefecture; I go everywhere; I am respected everywhere, bowed to and liked. What in the world should I do with you? You would only inconvenience me. I am a respectable woman, my friend.\'

She rose from her seat and walked towards Doctor Porquier, who, according to his custom, had come to spend an hour in the garden chatting to his fair patients, after a round of visits.

\'Oh, doctor!\' she exclaimed, with one of her pretty grimaces, \'I have got such a headache. It pains me just here, under the left eyebrow.\'

\'That is the side of the heart, madame,\' said the doctor, gallantly.

Madame de Condamin smiled and did not carry the consultation any further. Madame Paloque, who was present, bent, however, towards her husband, whom she brought with her every time she came, in order that she might recommend him to the sub-prefect\'s influence, and whispered in his ear:

\'That\'s the only way Porquier has of curing them.\'

When Monsieur Péqueur des Saulaies had joined Monsieur de Condamin and Monsieur Delangre he man?uvred cleverly in such wise as to draw them towards the gateway. When he was within a few yards of it, he stopped and appeared to be interested in the game of shuttlecock which was still going on in the lane. Abbé Surin, with his hair blown about by the wind, the sleeves of his cassock rolle............