rties, nor to enlist
in that one of them which seemed likely to carry the day. However, he
still occasionally came to spend an evening in the yellow drawing-room.
Granoux interested him like an antediluvian animal.

In the meantime, events were moving. The year 1851 was a year of anxiety
and apprehension for the politicians of Plassans, and the cause which
the Rougons served derived advantage from this circumstance. The most
contradictory news arrived from Paris; sometimes the Republicans were
in the ascendant, sometimes the Conservative party was crushing the
Republic. The echoes of the squabbles which were rending the Legislative
Assembly reached the depths of the provinces, now in an exaggerated, now
in an attenuated form, varying so greatly as to obscure the vision of
the most clear-sighted. The only general feeling was that a denouement
was approaching. The prevailing ignorance as to the nature of this
denouement kept timid middle class people in a terrible state of
anxiety. Everybody wished to see the end. They were sick of uncertainty,
and would have flung themselves into the arms of the Grand Turk, if he
would have deigned to save France from anarchy.

The marquis's smile became more acute. Of an evening, in the yellow
drawing-room, when Granoux's growl was rendered indistinct by fright, he
would draw near to Felicite and whisper in her ear: "Come, little one,
the fruit is ripe--but you must make yourself useful."

Felicite, who continued to read Eugene's letters, and knew that
a decisive crisis might any day occur, had already often felt the
necessity of making herself useful, and reflected as to the manner in
which the Rougons should employ themselves. At last she consulted the
marquis.

"It all depends upon circumstances," the little old man replied. "If the
department remains quiet, if no insurrection occurs to terrify Plassans,
it will be difficult for you to make yourselves conspicuous and render
any services to the new government. I advise you, in that case, to
remain at home, and peacefully await the bounties of your son Eugene.
But if the people rise, and our brave bourgeois think themselves in
danger, there will be a fine part to play. Your husband is somewhat
heavy--"

"Oh!" said Felicite, "I'll undertake to make him supple. Do you think
the department will revolt?"

"To my mind it's a certainty. Plassans, perhaps, will not make a
stir; the reaction has secured too firm a hold here for that. Bu