The Nabob, Volume 2 | Page 9

pure profiles, complexions of a
warm pallor of which the snowy whiteness of the haik absorbed even
the reflection. Magnificently draped, they contrasted strangely with the
busts which were ranged on both sides of the aisle they had taken, and
which, perched on their high pedestals, exiled from their familiar
surroundings, from the environment in which they would doubtless
have recalled some engrossing toil, some deep affection, a busy and
courageous life, seemed very forlorn in the empty air about them and
presented the distressing aspect of people who had gone astray and
were very much ashamed to find themselves there. Aside from two or
three female figures, well-rounded shoulders enveloped in petrified lace,
hair reproduced in marble with the soft touch that gives the impression
of a powdered head-dress, and a few profiles of children with simple
lines, in which the polish of the stone seems like the moisture of life,
there were nothing but wrinkles, furrows, contortions and grimaces, our
excess of toil and activity, our nervous paroxysms and our fevers
contrasted with that art of repose and noble serenity.
The Nabob's ugliness, at all events, had in its favor its energy, the
peculiar characteristics of the adventurer and the prolétaire, and that
kindly expression so well rendered by the artist, who had taken pains to
mix a supply of ochre with her plaster, thereby giving it almost the
swarthy, sun-burned tone of the model. The Arabs, on seeing it, uttered
a stifled exclamation: "Bon-Saïd!" (the father of good-luck). It was the
Nabob's sobriquet at Tunis, the label of his fortune, so to speak. The
bey, for his part, thinking that someone intended to make sport of him
by bringing him thus face to face with the detested mercanti, glanced

suspiciously at the inspector.
"Jansoulet?" he said in his guttural voice.
"Yes, your Highness, Bernard Jansoulet, the new Deputy for Corsica."
At that the bey turned to Hemerlingue, with a frown on his face.
"Deputy?"
"Yes, Monseigneur, the news came this morning; but nothing is settled
yet."
And the banker, ill at ease and lowering his voice, added: "No French
Chamber would ever admit that adventurer."
No matter! the blow had been dealt at the bey's blind confidence in his
baron-financier. Hemerlingue had declared so positively that the other
would never be chosen, that they could act freely and without fear so
far as he was concerned. And lo! instead of the crushed, discredited
man, a representative of the nation towered before him, a deputy whose
figure in stone Parisians thronged to admire; for, from the Oriental
sovereign's standpoint, as that public exhibition necessarily involved
the idea of conferring honor upon the subject, that bust had all the
prestige of a statue overlooking a public square. Hemerlingue, even
yellower than usual, inwardly accused himself of bungling and
imprudence. But how could he have suspected such a thing? He had
been assured that the bust was not finished. And, indeed, it had arrived
that very morning, and seemed overjoyed to be there, quivering with
gratified pride, expressing contempt for its enemies with the
good-natured smile of its curling lip. A veritable silent revenge for the
disaster at Saint-Romans.
For several minutes the bey, as cold and impassive as the carved image,
stared at it without speaking, his forehead divided by a straight fold
wherein his courtiers alone could read his wrath; then, after a few
words spoken rapidly in Arabic, to order his carriages and collect his
scattered suite, he strode gravely toward the exit, without deigning to

look at anything else. Who can say what takes place in those august
brains, surfeited with power? Even our western monarchs have
incomprehensible whims; but they are as nothing beside Oriental
caprices. Monsieur l'Inspecteur des Beaux-Arts, who had confidently
expected to show his Highness all over the Exhibition, and to earn
thereby the pretty little red and green ribbon of the Order of
Nicham-Iftikhar, never knew the secret of that sudden flight.
Just as the white haiks disappeared under the porch, and just in time to
catch a glimpse of the fluttering of their last folds, the Nabob entered
through the centre door. That morning he had received the news:
"Elected by an overwhelming majority;" and, after a sumptuous
breakfast, at which many a toast had been drunk to the new Deputy for
Corsica, he had come with some of his guests, to show himself, to see
himself as well, and to enjoy his new glory to the full.
The first person he saw when he arrived was Felicia Ruys, leaning
against the pedestal of a statue, receiving compliments and homage
with which he hastened to mingle his own. She was dressed simply, in
a black embroidered gown trimmed with jet, tempering the severe
simplicity of her costume by its scintillating reflections and