The ministry had fallen. M. le prÉfet Worms-Clavelin felt neither surprise nor regret at this. In the depths of his heart he had always considered it too restless and too disturbing, an object of suspicion, and not without reason, to the agriculturist, the large merchant, and the small investor. Without affecting the fortunate indifference of the masses, this cabinet had exercised, to the prÉfet’s grief, a vexatious influence over freemasonry, the organisation by which, for fifteen years past, the whole political life of the department had been drawn together and held in check. M. le prÉfet Worms-Clavelin had been able to turn the masonic lodges of the department into boards vested with the preliminary choice of candidates for public offices, for electoral functions, and for party favours. Exercising in this way wide and definite prerogatives, the lodges, being as much opportunist as they were radical, combined, acted in concert with one another, and worked together for the republican cause. The prÉfet, rejoicing to see the ambition of some restraining the desires of others, gathered together, on the joint recommendation of the lodges, a band of senators, deputies, municipal councillors and road-surveyors, all equally loyal to the government, yet sufficiently diverse in opinion and sufficiently moderate to satisfy and reassure all republican parties, save the socialists. M. le prÉfet Worms-Clavelin had brought about this unanimity. And now the radical ministry must needs break up so happy a harmony.

Ill-luck decreed that the holder of one of the minor portfolios (either agriculture or commerce) should travel through the department and stop for some hours in the county town. It sufficed for him to deliver a philosophic and moral speech at one assembly to flutter all the assemblies, divide each lodge into two, set brother against brother, and infuriate citizen Mandar, the chemist of the Rue Culture, master of the lodge “New Alliance,” and a radical, against M. Tricoul, vine-grower of Les Tournelles, master of the lodge “Sacred Friendship,” and an opportunist.

Mentally M. Worms-Clavelin made another complaint against the fallen ministry: that of having lavishly distributed academic decorations and given Orders of Merit for agricultural proficiency to radical-socialists only, thus robbing the prÉfet of the advantage of governing with the aid of these decorations, or at least by means of tardily fulfilled promises of them.

M. le prÉfet expressed his thoughts accurately as, alone in his study, he murmured these bitter words:

“If they believed they could play at politics by upsetting my loyal lodges and fastening my useful palms to the tail of every drunken dog in the department, they’ll find themselves finely mistaken!”

Thus it was that he heard of the fall of the ministry without any regret.

Besides, these changes that he had foreseen never surprised him. His administrative policy was always founded on the assumption that minister succeeds minister. He made a point of never serving a Home Secretary with ardent zeal. He refrained from being over-pleasing to any one, and shunned all opportunities of doing too well. This moderation, kept up during the continuance of one ministry, assured him the sympathy of the next one, thus sufficiently predisposed in his favour to acquiesce in its turn in the half-hearted zeal, which became a claim to the favour of a third cabinet. M. le prÉfet Worms-Clavelin reigned without ruling, corresponded briefly with the Place Beauvau,[G] manoeuvred the boards, and stayed in office.

In his study, through the half-open windows of which came the scent of flowering lilacs and the twittering of sparrows, he was meditating, in a gentle and peaceful mood, on the lingering extinction of the scandals which on two occasions had gone near to ruining the leaders of the party. He looked forward to the day, still far distant, on which it would again be possible to resume activity. He reflected that, in spite of passing difficulties, and notwithstanding the discord unluckily communicated to the masonic lodges and the electoral committees, he would have capital municipal elections. The mayors in this agricultural district were excellent. The spirit of the populace was so loyal that the two deputies, who, being compromised in several financial transactions, were threatened with legal proceedings, had yet retained all their influence in their districts. He said to himself that the scrutin de liste[H] would never have produced such favourable results. In his exaltation of mind thoughts that were almost philosophic came to the surface of his mind as to the ease with which men can be governed. He had a confused vision of this human beast allowing itself to be led, and straggling along in tireless gloomy tractableness beneath the eye of the shepherding dog.

M. Lacarelle entered the study with a newspaper in his hand.

“Monsieur le prÉfet, the resignation of the ministers, having been accepted by the President of the Republic, is announced in l’Officiel.”

M. le prÉfet Worms-Clavelin continued his gentle musing, and M. Lacarelle turned up his long Gallic moustaches and rolled his china-blue eyes, as a sign that he was about to give expression to a thought. And, as a matter of fact, he did so.

“Opinions differ as to the fall of the ministry.”

“Really?” asked M. le prÉfet, who was not listening.

“Well! monsieur le prÉfet, it cannot be denied that Mademoiselle Claudine Deniseau predicted that the ministry would fall at an early date.”

M. le prÉfet shrugged his shoulders. He had a mind wise enough to see that there was nothing marvellous in the fulfilment of such a prophecy. But Lacarelle, with a profound knowledge of local affairs, a marvellously contagious stupidity, and an exceptional aptitude for self-delusion, immediately related to him three or four new stories which were running through the town, and especially the story of M. de Gromance, to whom Saint Radegonde had said, in reply to her visitor’s secret thought: “Be at ease, monsieur le comte; the child that your wife will bear is really your son.” Then Lacarelle returned to the disclosure of the hidden treasure. Two Roman coins had been found at the place indicated. The excavations were still going on. There had also been some cures of which the private secretary gave vague and rambling descriptions.

M. le prÉfet Worms-Clavelin listened uncomprehendingly. The mere idea of the Deniseau girl saddened and worried him. The influence of this visionary over the townsfolk at large was beyond his understanding. He was afraid of using his abilities ineffectively in a psychic case such as this. This fear paralysed his reason, although it was strong enough in ordinary circumstances. As he listened to Lacarelle, he experienced a dread of being convinced, and instinctively exclaimed brusquely:

“I don’t believe in such things as these! I don’t believe in them!”

But doubt and anxiety overwhelmed him. He wished to know what AbbÉ Guitrel, whom he regarded as both learned and intelligent, thought on the subject of this prophetess. It was just the time when he would meet the abbÉ at the goldsmith’s house. He went to Rondonneau junior’s, and found him in the inner room, nailing up a case, whilst AbbÉ Guitrel examined a silver-gilt vase set on a long stem and surmounted with a rounded lid.

“That’s a fine chalice, isn’t it, monsieur l’abbÉ?”

“It is a pyx, monsieur le prÉfet, a ciborium, a vessel intended ad ferendos cibos.[I] In fact, the pyx holds the sacred hosts, the food of the soul. Formerly they used to keep the pyx in a silver dove hung over the baptismal font, the altar, or the tomb of a martyr. This one is decorated in the style of the thirteenth century. An austere and magnificent style, very suitable, monsieur le prÉfet, for church furniture, and especially for the sacred vessels.”

M. Worms-Clavelin was not listening to the priest, whose restless, crafty profile he was observing. “Here is the man,” thought he, “who is going to tell me about Saint Radegonde and the prophetess.” And the departmental representative of the Republic was already screwing up his courage, concentrating his energies, lest he should appear weak-minded, superstitious and credulous, before an ecclesiastic.

“Yes, monsieur le prÉfet” said AbbÉ Guitrel, “our worthy M. Rondonneau junior has executed this beautiful specimen of goldsmith’s work after ancient models. I am inclined to think that they could not have done better in the Place Saint-Sulpice, in Paris, where the best goldsmiths are to be found.”

“À propos, monsieur l’abbÉ, what is your opinion of the prophetess whom our town possesses?”

“What prophetess, monsieur le prÉfet? Do you mean that poor girl who pretends to be in communication with Saint Radegonde, queen of France? Alas! monsieur, it cannot possibly be the pious spouse of Clotaire who suggests to that miserable girl sorry nonsense of every kind and rhapsodies which, being irreconcilable with good sense, are still less to be reconciled with theology. Foolery, monsieur le prÉfet, mere foolery!”

M. Worms-Clavelin, who had prepared some subtle jests concerning priestly credulity, remained silent.

“No, indeed,” continued M. Guitrel, with a smile, “it is incredible that Saint Radegonde should suggest this trash, this folly, all these silly, empty, sometimes heterodox, speeches that fall from the lips of this young maiden. The voice of the sainted Radegonde would have another accent, believe me.”

M. LE PRÉFET: “Very little is known, in fact, about this Saint Radegonde.”

M. GUITREL: “You mistake, monsieur le prÉfet, you mistake! Saint Radegonde, reverenced by the whole Catholic Church, is the object of special worship in the diocese of Poitiers, which was formerly witness of her merits.”

M. LE PRÉFET: “Yes, as you say, monsieur l’abbÉ, there is a special…”

M. GUITREL: “Even atheists themselves have regarded this great figure with admiration. What a sublime picture, monsieur le prÉfet! After the murder of her brother by her husband, Clotaire’s noble spouse betakes herself to Bishop MÉdard at Noyon, and urges him to dedicate her to God. Taken by surprise, Saint MÉdard hesitates; he urges the indissolubility of marriage. But Radegonde herself covers her head with the veil of a recluse, and flings herself at the feet of the pontiff, who, overcome by the saintly persistence of the queen, and braving the wrath of the savage monarch, offers this blessed victim to God.”

M. LE PRÉFET: “But, monsieur l’abbÉ, do you approve of a bishop defying the civil powers in that fashion and abetting the wife of his overlord in her revolt? The deuce! if these are your opinions, I shall be grateful to you for telling me so.”

M. GUITREL: “Alas! monsieur le prÉfet, I have not, as the blessed MÉdard had, the illumination of sanctity to enable me to discern the will of God in extraordinary circumstances. Luckily nowadays the rules which a bishop should follow with regard to the civil powers are definitely defined. And monsieur le prÉfet will kindly remember, in speaking of me for the bishopric of Tourcoing to his friends in the ministry, that I recognise all the obligations that follow from the Concordat. But why intrude my humble personality in these great scenes of history? Saint Radegonde, clothed in the veil of a deaconess, founded the monastery of Sainte-Croix in Poitiers, where she lived for more than fifty years in the practice of a rigorous asceticism. She observed fasts and abstinences with such scrupulousness …”

M. LE PRÉFET: “Keep these stories of yours, monsieur l’abbÉ for your seminarists. You don’t believe that Saint Radegonde communicates with Mademoiselle Deniseau. I congratulate you on that. And I could wish that all the priests in the department were as reasonable as you. But it only needs this hysteric patient—for hysteric she is—to attack the government for all the curÉs to come in herds to listen, open-mouthed and applauding, to all the insults she spits out.”

M. GUITREL: “Oh! they make reservations, monsieur le prÉfet, they make reservations. The Church instructs them to be extremely wary in face of every fact that assumes the appearance of a miracle. And I assure you that, for my part, I am very distrustful of modern miracles.”

M. LE PRÉFET: “Tell me, between ourselves: you don’t believe in miracles, my dear abbÉ?”

M. GUITREL: “In miracles that are not duly verified I have, indeed, but little belief.”

M. LE PRÉFET: “We are alone. Confess, now, that there are no miracles, that there never have been any, and that there never can possibly be any.”

M. GUITREL: “Not at all, monsieur le prÉfet. A miracle is possible; it can be unmistakably recognised; it is useful for the confirmation of doctrine; and its utility is proved by the conversion of nations.”

M. LE PRÉFET: “Anyhow, you grant that it is ridiculous to believe that Saint Radegonde, who lived in the Middle Ages…”

M. GUITREL: “In the sixth century, in the sixth century.”

M. LE PRÉFET: “Exactly, in the sixth century.… Should come in 189– to gossip with the daughter of a registry-keeper on the political programme of the ministry and the Chambers.”

M. GUITREL: “Communications between the Church triumphant and the Church militant are possible; history supplies numberless undeniable instances of it. But, yet again, I do not believe that the young person of whom we are speaking is favoured with a communication of this kind. Her sayings, if I may dare to say so, do not bear the hall-mark of a celestial revelation. Everything she says is somehow…”

M. LE PRÉFET: “Humbug.”

M. GUITREL: “If you like.… Though, indeed, it might be quite possible that she is possessed.”

M. LE PRÉFET: “What is this that you are saying? You, an intelligent priest, a future bishop of the Republic, you believe in possession! It is a mediÆval superstition! I have read a book by Michelet on it.”

M. GUITREL: “But, monsieur le prÉfet, possession is a fact recognised not only by theologians, but also by scientists, atheists for the most part. And Michelet himself, whom you quote, believed in the cases of possession at Loudun.”

M. LE PRÉFET: “What notions! You are all the same! And if Claudine Deniseau were possessed, as you say?…”

M. GUITREL: “Then it would be necessary to exorcise her.”

M. LE PRÉFET: “Exorcise her? Don’t you think, monsieur l’abbÉ, that that would be absurd?”

M. GUITREL: “Not at all, monsieur le prÉfet, not at all.”

M. LE PRÉFET: “What does one do?”

M. GUITREL: “There are rules, monsieur le prÉfet, a formulary, a ritual for this kind of operation, which has never ceased to be used. Jeanne d’Arc herself had to undergo it, in the town of Vaucouleurs, unless I mistake. M. Laprune, the curÉ of Saint-ExupÈre, would be the right person to exorcise this Deniseau girl, who is one of his parishioners. He is a very venerable priest. It is true that, as regards the Deniseau family, he is in a position which may react on his character, and, to a certain extent, influence a wise and cautious mind, as yet unenfeebled by age, or which at any rate still seems able to bear the weight of years and the fatigues of a long and onerous ministry. I mean to say that events, regarded by some as miracles, have taken place in the parish of this worthy curÉ; and M. Laprune’s zeal must needs have been led into error by the thought that the parish of Saint-ExupÈre may have been privileged to such a degree that a manifestation of divine power has taken place in it, in preference to all the other parishes in our town. Buoyed up by such a hope, he has perhaps formed illusions which he has unconsciously communicated to his clergy. An error and a mistake which one can excuse, if one considers the circumstances. Indeed, what blessings would not a new miracle shed on the parish church of Saint-ExupÈre! The zeal of the faithful would be revived by it, an outpouring of gifts would bring wealth into the famous, but clean-stripped, walls of the ancient church. And the favour of the Cardinal-Archbishop would solace the last days of M. Laprune, now arrived at the end of his ministry and strength.”

M. LE PRÉFET: “But if I understand you rightly, monsieur l’abbÉ, it is this doddering cure of Saint-ExupÈre, it is M. Laprune, with his vicaires, who has got up the affair of the Prophetess. Undoubtedly the priests are strong. They won’t believe it in Paris, in the bureaux, but it is the truth. The priests are a fine power! Here your old Laprune has been organising these sÉances of clerical spiritualism which all the town attends in order to hear the Parliament, the presidency, and myself insulted—for I am perfectly aware that they don’t spare me in these conventicles of the Place Saint-ExupÈre.” M. GUITREL: “Oh! monsieur le prÉfet, far be it from me to think of suspecting the worthy curÉ of Saint-ExupÈre of having concocted a plot! On the contrary, I sincerely believe that, if he has in any way encouraged this unhappy affair, he will soon recognise his error, and will use all his influence to efface the results of it.… But even in his interest and in that of the diocese, one might forestall him and inform His Eminence of the real facts, of which he is perhaps still ignorant. Once warned of these disorders, he will doubtless put an end to them.”

M. LE PRÉFET: “That’s an idea!… My dear abbÉ, are you willing to undertake the commission? For my part, as prÉfet, I am obliged to ignore the fact that there is an Archbishop, save in cases provided for by the law, such as bells and processions. When one thinks of it, it is an absurd situation, for from the moment that Archbishops have an actual existence… But politics have their necessities. Tell me frankly. Are you in favour at the Archbishop’s palace?”

M. GUITREL: “His Eminence sometimes deigns to listen to me with kindness. The affability of His Eminence is extreme.”

M. LE PRÉFET: “Well! tell him that it is inadmissible for Saint Radegonde to come to life again in order to plague the senators, the deputies, and the prÉfet of the department, and that, in the interests of the Church as well as of the Republic, it is time to bridle the tongue of the fierce Clotaire’s spouse. Just tell His Eminence that.”

M. GUITREL: “Substantially, monsieur le prÉfet; substantially I will tell him that.”

M. LE PRÉFET: “Set about it as you like, monsieur l’abbÉ, but prove to him that he must forbid his priests to enter the Deniseau house, that he must openly reprimand the curÉ Laprune, condemn in la Semaine religieuse the speeches made by this mad woman, and officially request the editors of le LibÉral to cease the campaign they are waging in support of a miracle both unconstitutional and contrary to the Concordat.”

M. GUITREL: “I will try it, monsieur le prÉfet. Certainly, I will try it. But what am I, a poor professor of sacred rhetoric, before His Eminence the Cardinal-Archbishop?”

M. LE PRÉFET: “He is intelligent, is your Archbishop; he will understand that his own interests, and the honour of Saint Radegonde, by the Lord!…”

M. GUITREL: “Doubtless, monsieur le prÉfet, doubtless. But His Eminence, so devoted to the spiritual interests of the diocese, perhaps considers that the prodigious crowd of souls around this poor girl is a token of that yearning after belief which torments the younger generation, a proof that faith is more living than ever among the masses, an example, in fact, which it would be well to present to the consideration of statesmen. And it is possible that, thinking thus, he may be in no hurry to cause the sign to cease, to suppress the proof and the example. It is possible…”

M. LE PRÉFET: “… that he may make fun of everybody. He is quite capable of it.”

M. GUITREL: “Oh! monsieur le prÉfet, there is no foundation for that assumption! But how much easier and more certain would my mission be, if, like the dove from the ark, I were the bearer of an olive branch, if I were authorised to say—oh! just in a whisper!—to Monseigneur, that the salary of the seven poor curÉs of the diocese, suspended by the former Minister of Religion, was restored!”

M. LE PRÉFET: “Give, give, that’s it, isn’t it? I will think it over.… I will telegraph to Paris, and I will bring you the answer at Rondonneau junior’s. Good evening, monsieur le diplomate!”

A week after the day of this secret conference AbbÉ Guitrel had successfully accomplished his mission. The prophetess of the Place Saint-ExupÈre, disowned by the archbishopric, abandoned by the clergy, abjured by le LibÉral, kept on her side none save the two corresponding members of the academy of psychical research, one of whom regarded her as a subject worthy of study and the other as a dangerous charlatan. Freed from this mad woman, and delighted at the municipal elections, which had brought forth neither new measures nor new men, M. le prÉfet Worms-Clavelin rejoiced from the bottom of his heart.