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"Possibly," Vuillet resumed; "but the best of causes at the present time is to keep one's head on one's shoulders." And he added, with maliciousness, "And I was under the impression you had killed all the insurgents! You've left too many of them for me to run any risk." Rougon, when he was alone again, felt amazed at this mutiny on the part of a man who was usually so meek and mild.
He was certainly about to add, "Vuillet is as big a fool as you are." But, observing his brother's distorted face anxiously extended towards him, he experienced sudden mistrust. "Vuillet has his good points," he calmly replied. On parting from his brother, Aristide felt more perplexed than before.
The gentlemen, who had drowned their jealousies in champagne, rose in a body and clinked glasses with deafening shouts. It was a fine spectacle. The bourgeois of Plassans, Roudier, Granoux, Vuillet, and all the others, wept and embraced each other over the corpse of the Republic, which as yet was scarcely cold. But a splendid idea occurred to Sicardot.
However, Monsieur de Carnavant merely smiled and glanced at Felicite with a knowing look. This rapid by-play was not observed by the other people. Vuillet alone remarked in a sharp tone: "I would rather see your Bonaparte at London than at Paris. Our affairs would get along better then." At this the old oil-dealer turned slightly pale, fearing that he had gone too far.
This bookseller, half-sacristan and half-journalist, spoke less than the others, but was more observant. He had noticed that Eugene occasionally conversed at times in a corner with Commander Sicardot. So he determined to watch them, but never succeeded in overhearing a word. Eugene silenced the commander by a wink whenever Vuillet approached them.
When the marquis and Vuillet had likewise risen, Pierre began: "Now that we are alone, among peaceable men, I propose that we should conceal ourselves so as to avoid certain arrest, and be at liberty as soon as ours again becomes the stronger party." Granoux was ready to embrace him. Roudier and Vuillet breathed more easily.
The latter had resumed his sorting in a feverish manner, as though he were very busy. "Listen to me, Monsieur Vuillet," she said to him. And when he raised his head: "let us play our cards openly; you do wrong to betray us; some misfortune may befall you. If, instead of unsealing our letters " At this he protested, and feigned great indignation.
Roudier and Granoux, sinking back in their arm-chairs, exchanged the most pitiable glances, whilst behind them moaned a terror-stricken group of retired tradesmen. Vuillet, without appearing over scared, reflected upon what precautions he should take to protect his shop and person; he was in doubt whether he should hide himself in his garret or cellar, and inclined towards the latter.
Nobody had seen Vuillet. Rougon seemed somewhat uneasy. "Perhaps they've taken him away with the others," he said, to ease his mind. But Felicite shook her head. Vuillet was not the man to let himself be arrested. Since nobody had seen or heard him, it was certain he had been doing something wrong.
On the evening prior to the day when he stopped Eugene on the Cours Sauvaire, he had published, in the "Independant," a terrible article on the intrigues of the clergy, in response to a short paragraph from Vuillet, who had accused the Republicans of desiring to demolish the churches. Vuillet was Aristide's bugbear. Never a week passed but these two journalists exchanged the greatest insults.
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