This was well understood at the office, and suitors were not lacking for Coralie’s hand. It was said that Maze himself, the handsome Maze, the lion of the bureau, hovered around father Cachelin with a palpable intent. But the former sergeant, who had roamed through all latitudes, wanted a young man with a future, a young man who would be chief, and who would be able to make some return to him, the old clerk. Lesable suited him to a nicety, and he cast about in his mind for a means of attaching him to himself.
All of a sudden he sat upright, striking his hands together. He had found it. He well understood the weakness of each one of his colleagues. Lesable could be approached only through his vanity, his professional vanity. He would go to him and demand his protection as one goes to a senator or a deputy—as one goes to a high personage.
Not having had any promotion for five years, Cachelin considered himself as certain to obtain one this year. He would make it appear then that he owed it to Lesable, and would invite him to dinner as a means of thanking him.
As soon as his project was conceived he began to put it into execution. He took off his office jacket, put on his coat, and, gathering up all the registered papers which concerned the services of his colleague, he betook himself to the office which Lesable occupied all alone, by special favour, because of his zeal and the importance of his functions.
The young man was writing at a great table, covered with bundles of documents and loose papers numbered with red or blue figures.
As soon as he saw the chief-clerk enter, he said in a familiar tone, which also betokened consideration: “Well, my dear fellow, do you bring me a lot of business?”
“Yes, a good deal. And then I want to speak to you.”
“Sit down, my friend; I am listening.”
Cachelin seated himself, coughed, put on a troubled look, and finally said in a despondent tone:
“This is what brings me here, Monsieur Lesable. I will not beat about the bush. I will be frank like an old soldier. I have come to demand a service of you.”
“What is it?”
“In few words, I wish very much to be promoted this year. I have nobody to help me, and I have thought of you.”
Lesable reddened somewhat. He was surprised, flattered, and filled with a pleased confusion. However, he replied:
“But I am nobody here, my friend. I am much less than you, who are going to be principal clerk. I can do nothing. Believe me that if—”
Cachelin cut him short with respectful brusqueness: “Oh, nonsense. You have the ear of the chief, and if you speak a word for me I shall get it. Remember that in eighteen months I shall have the right to retire, and I shall be just five hundred francs to the bad if I obtain nothing on the first of January. I know very well that they say: ‘Cachelin is all right; his sister has a million.’ It is true enough that my sister has a million, but she doesn’t give any of it away. It is also true that her fortune is for my daughter, but my daughter and I are two different persons. I shall be in a nice fix if, when my daughter and my son-in-law are rolling in their carriage, I have nothing to eat. You see my position, do you not?”
Lesable agreed. “It is true—what you say is very true. Your son-in-law may not be well disposed toward you. Besides, one is always more at ease when owing nothing to anybody. Well, I promise you I shall do my best; I shall speak to the chief, place the case before him, and shall insist if it be necessary. Count on me!”
Cachelin rose, took the hands of his colleague, and pressing them hard while he shook them in military fashion, stammered: “Thank you, thank you; believe me, if ever I have the opportunity—if I can ever—” He stopped, not being able to finish what he had begun, and went away making the corridor resound with the rhythmical tread of an old trooper.
But he heard from afar the sharp ring of a bell and he began to run. He knew that ring. It was the chief, M. Torchebeuf, who wanted him.
Eight days later Cachelin found one morning on his desk a sealed letter, which contained the following:
My Dear Colleague: I am happy to announce to you that the minister, at the instance of our director and our chief, yesterday signed your nomination to the position of principal clerk. You will receive tomorrow your official notification. Until then you know nothing, you understand?
César ran at once to the office of his young colleague, thanked him, excused himself, offered his everlasting devotion, overwhelmed him with his gratitude.
It was known on the morrow that MM. Lesable and Cachelin had each been promoted. The other employees must wait another year, receiving by way of compensation a gratuity which varied from one hundred and fifty to three hundred francs.
M. Boissel declared that he would lie in wait for Lesable at the corner of the street at midnight some night and give him a drubbing which would leave its mark. The other clerks kept silent.
The following Monday, on his arrival, Cachelin went to the office of his protector, entered with solemnity, and in a ceremonious tone said: “I hope that you
