12 An allusion to Monsieur de Tolly's own magic act, making ballots disappear.
The Red and the Black
Poised right in the middle of some great lords (standing silent, yet schemers all, and among the most corrupt of the lot, though men of high intelligence) who, that night, had followed one another into Monsieur de La Mole's drawing room—there being talk of making him a government minister—little Tanbeau drew his social fencing sword for the first time. If he did not wield it particularly deftly, he made up for that, as you'll see, by the forcefulness of his words. "Why hasn't that man been sent to prison for ten years?" he was saying, just as Julien approached his group. "Reptiles like that ought to be thrown into the deepest dungeons. Let them die down in the darkness: otherwise their venom gets puffed up and becomes even more dangerous. What's the point to fining him a few thousand francs? Maybe he's poor—all right, so much the better. But his party will pay the fine. He should have been fined five hundred francs and sent to the dungeons for ten years." "My God!" thought Julien. "Who is the monster they're talking about?" He admired his colleague's vehement tone and wild gestures. Just then, the lean, drawn face of the academician's favorite nephew was ghastly to look on. Julien discovered, soon enough, that he was talking about the greatest poet of their time, Béranger. "Oh, you monster!" Julien murmured, great tears rolling down his cheeks. "You little beggar! I'll get you for that." "But just see," he thought, "these last hopes of Monsieur de La Mole's party, a party he helps lead! And that famous poet who Tanbeau is slandering—what medals, what sinecures he couldn't have had, if he'd sold himself—not to Prime Minister de Nerval's13 completely colorless government, but to one of the others, more or less respectable, that have since taken power!" Father Pirard, from far off, beckoned to Julien; Monsieur de La Mole had just said something to him. But by the time Julien was free to make his way over, finally able to slip away from a bishop's moaning and groaning, to which he'd been listening with lowered eyes, he found him cornered by that vile little Tanbeau. The little monster, who detested Father Pirard as the source of Julien's special favor, had now come to pay court to him. "When will death free us from that withered old rottenness?" With biblical energy, this is how the little man of letters spoke of worthy, but Whiggish, Lord Holland.14 His special skill was to have accumulated biographies of everyone alive; he had just been making a rapid review of everyone who might aspire to any influence, in the reign of William IV,15 the new King of England. Father Pirard went into the next room; Julien followed him. "I must warn you: the marquis does not care for scribblers. It's his only aversion. If you're versed in Latin; in Greek, if you can; if you know Egyptian history, and Persian, etc., he'll honor and protect you as a scholar. But go and write a single page of French, especially on matters which are serious and above your social position, he'll label you a scribbler and you'll be out of