Ten Tales | Page 9

own heart.
"He, my Adrien, the child that I nourished at my own breast, a

mountebank in a travelling theatre! struck and insulted before the
whole world! He, whom I saved at four when he was so ill, a clown in a
tent! He, the beautiful baby of whom I was so proud, whom I made the
neighbors admire when he was so small that he rolled naked on my
knee, holding his little foot in his hand!"
Suddenly at this point in her heart-breaking monologue the old woman
perceived the crowd listening to her. She looked on the spectators in
astonishment, as one who starts from sleep. She recognized me who
had questioned her, and became frightfully pale.
"What have I said?" she stammered. "Let me pass." And brusquely
putting us aside with an imperious gesture, she went off with a rapid
step, and disappeared in the night.
The adventure made a lively impression on me. I thought often of it,
and after that, when I saw before my eyes some wretched and degraded
creature, some woman of the street, trailing her light silk skirts in the
flare of a gas-jet, some drunken idler leaning on the bar of a café and
bending his bloated face over his glass of absinthe, I have thought, "Is
it possible that that being can ever have been a little child?"
Now, some little time after that rencontre--let us be careful not to
indicate the date--I was taken into a gallery of the Chamber of Deputies
to be present at a sensational sitting. The law that they were discussing
on that day is of no importance, but it was the old and tedious story: a
Ministerial candidate, formerly in the Opposition, proposed to strike a
blow at some liberty--I don't know what--which he had formerly
demanded with virulence and force. And, more than that, the man in
power was going to forfeit his word to the tribune. In good French that
is called "to betray," but in parliamentary language they employ the
phrase, "accomplish a change of base." Opinion was divided, the
majority uncertain; and upon his speech would depend the political
future of the speaker. Therefore, on that day, the legislators were in
their places, and the Chamber did not resemble, as usual, a class of
noisy boys presided over by a master without authority. The
lunch-counter was deserted, and the deputies of the Centre themselves
were not absorbed in their personal correspondence.

The orator mounted the tribune. He had the commonplace figure of a
verbose orator: bold eye, protruding lips, as enlarged by the abuse of
words. He began by fingering his notes with an important air, tasting
the glass of sweetened water, and settling himself in his place; then he
started a babble of words without sense, with the nauseous facility of
the bar; misusing vague ideas, abstract terms, and words in ly and ion,
stereotyped words, and ready-made phrases. A flattering murmur
greeted the end of his exordium; for the French people in general, and
the political world in particular, manifest a depraved taste for that sort
of eloquence. Encouraged, the fine speaker entered the heart of his
subject, and cynically sang his recantation. He abjured none of his
opinions, he repudiated none of his acts; he would always remain
liberal (a blow on his chest), but that which was good yesterday might
be dangerous to-day; truth on the other side of the Alps, error on this
side. The forbearance of the Government was abused. And he
threatened the assembly; became prophet; let loose the dogs of war. He
even risked a bit of poetry, flourished old metaphors, which were worn
out in the time of Cicero, and compared by turn, in the same phrase, his
political career to a pilot, a steed, and a torch. So much poetry could
only accentuate his success. There was a salvo of bravos, and the
Opposition grumbled, foreseeing their defeat. Violent interruptions
broke forth: furious voices recalled the orator's past life, and threw as
insults his former professions in his face. He was unmoved, and stood
with a disdainful air, which was very effective. Then the bravos
redoubled, and he smiled vaguely, thinking, no doubt, of the
proof-sheets of the Officiel, where he could by-and-by insert in the
margin, without too much exaggeration, "profound sensation" and
"prolonged applause." Then, when quiet was re-established, sure of his
success, he affected a serene majesty. He took up again his discourse,
soaring like a goose, launching out with high doctrine, citing
Royer-Collard.
[Illustration]
But I heard no more. The scandalous spectacle of that political
mountebank, who sacrificed eternal principles to the interests of the day,
recalled to my memory the tent of the acrobats. The cold rhetoric of

that harangue, vibrating with neither truth nor emotion, recalled to