Bixiou.  “Despised by Fleury!”

Dutocq.  “Not a soul will stand by Rabourdin; the clerks will go in a body and complain of him to the minister,—­not only in our division, but in all the divisions—­”

Bixiou.  “Forward, march! infantry, cavalry, artillery, and marines of the guard!  You rave, my good fellow!  And I, what part am I to take in the business?”

Dutocq.  “You are to make a cutting caricature,—­sharp enough to kill a man.”

Bixiou.  “How much will you pay for it?”

Dutocq.  “A hundred francs.”

Bixiou [to himself].  “Then there is something in it.”

Dutocq [continuing].  “You must represent Rabourdin dressed as a butcher (make it a good likeness), find analogies between a kitchen and a bureau, put a skewer in his hand, draw portraits of the principal clerks and stick their heads on fowls, put them in a monstrous coop labelled ‘Civil Service executions’; make him cutting the throat of one, and supposed to take the others in turn.  You can have geese and ducks with heads like ours,—­you understand!  Baudoyer, for instance, he’ll make an excellent turkey-buzzard.”

Bixiou.  “Ris d’aboyeur d’oie!” [He has watched Dutocq carefully for some time.] “Did you think of that yourself?”

Dutocq.  “Yes, I myself.”

Bixiou [to himself].  “Do evil feelings bring men to the same result as talents?” [Aloud] “Well, I’ll do it” [Dutocq makes a motion of delight] “—­when” [full stop] “—­I know where I am and what I can rely on.  If you don’t succeed I shall lose my place, and I must make a living.  You are a curious kind of innocent still, my dear colleague.”

Dutocq.  “Well, you needn’t make the lithograph till success is proved.”

Bixiou.  “Why don’t you come out and tell me the whole truth?”

Dutocq.  “I must first see how the land lays in the bureau; we will talk about it later” [goes off].

Bixiou [alone in the corridor].  “That fish, for he’s more a fish than a bird, that Dutocq has a good idea in his head—­I’m sure I don’t know where he stole it.  If Baudoyer should succeed La Billardiere it would be fun, more than fun—­profit!” [Returns to the office.] “Gentlemen, I announce glorious changes; papa La Billardiere is dead, really dead, —­no nonsense, word of honor!  Godard is off on business for our excellent chief Baudoyer, successor presumptive to the deceased.” [Minard, Desroys, and Colleville raise their heads in amazement; they all lay down their pens, and Colleville blows his nose.] “Every one of us is to be promoted!  Colleville will be under-head-clerk at the very least.  Minard may have my place as chief clerk—­why not? he is quite as dull as I am.  Hey, Minard, if you should get twenty-five hundred francs a-year your little wife would be uncommonly pleased, and you could buy yourself a pair of boots now and then.”

Colleville.  “But you don’t get twenty-five hundred francs.”