2 Or l'autre, a politically prudent way of referring to Napoleon under the Restoration. Napoleon died on Saint- Helena in 1821, but rumors circulated, especially among veterans and the lower classes, that this was a lie propagated by the frightened Bourbons. Many of Napoleon's generals had working-class origins, and many of them did in fact rally to the Bourbons when Napoleon returned from Elba, prudent enough to realize that the great European powers would never tolerate his retaking the throne.
Chapter Twenty-Nine: The First Forward Step
This talk comforted Julien. As he went past them, he repeated, sighing: "The only king the people still remember!"3 Examination time arrived. Julien replied to the questions brilliantly; he saw that even Chazel tried to show how much he knew. After the first day, the examiners named by the famed Vicar-General de Frilair were very annoyed, always having to put first on their list, or at worst second, Julien Sorel; they had been told he was Father Pirard's favorite. There had been bets made in the seminary that Julien would stand first on the examination list; whoever placed first was rewarded by a dinner with the bishop. But at the end of one session, when he had been examined on the Church Fathers, a clever examiner who'd first questioned him about Saint Jerome and that saint's passion for Cicero, turned the subject to Horace, Virgil, and other profane writers. Julien's classmates did not know it, but he had memorized a great many passages from these authors. Carried away by his success, Julien forgot where he was and, when the examiner repeated his question, he passionately recited several of Horace's odes and then gave an analytical summary of each. The examiner gave him twenty minutes to bury himself in his own trap, then suddenly turned severe and issued a sharp scolding for the time Julien had wasted on these profane studies, and the useless, or sinful, ideas they had put in his head. "I am a fool, sir, and you are right," said Julien modestly, recognizing the clever stratagem by which he'd been victimized. This was clearly a dirty trick; even the seminarians said so. But that did not stop Father de Frilair—that shrewd man who'd so knowledgeably organized the Congregation of the Holy Virgin's network in Besançon, and whose communications with Paris caused trembling among the judges, the governors, and even the higher officers in the garrison—from placing, in his imposing handwriting, "grade-level 198" next to Julien's name. It gave him pleasure to thus mortify his enemy, Pirard the Jansenist. His major concern, for a full ten years, had been to remove Pirard as director of the seminary. Obedient to the precepts he'd explained to Julien, Father Pirard had been honest, pious, involved in no intrigues, devoted to his duty. But heaven's wrath had fallen on him, giving him a choleric disposition, inclined to react strongly to insults and hatred. Every offense against this fiery soul hit home. He would have handed in his resignation a hundred times over, but he considered himself useful in the post to which Providence had assigned him. "I'm blocking the advance of Jesuitism and idolatry," he told himself. At examination time, it had been roughly two months since he'd spoken to Julien, and yet he was sick for an entire week when he got the official letter, announcing the final results, and saw "grade-level 198" assigned to this student, in his judgment the glory of the institution. Given his severe nature, his only consolation was to concentrate on Julien every form of surveillance he could command. He was thrilled when he discovered no anger in the young man, no plan for revenge, no discouragement. Some weeks later, receiving a letter, Julien shuddered; the postmark was Paris. "At last," he thought, "Madame de Rênal has remembered her promises." Someone who signed his name Paul Sorel, and said he was a relative, was sending him a bill of exchange in the amount of five hundred francs. It was noted that, should Julien continue to study the finest Latin authors, and with such success, a similar sum would be sent him annually. "It's her, it's her generosity!" Julien told himself, his heart softening. "She wants to comfort me. But why not a single affectionate word?"