Some of
them had not even taken time to put on their braces. They were very
impatient, but it was evident that Rougon was waiting for some one else
before speaking out. He constantly turned an anxious look towards
the door. For an hour there was only significant hand-shaking, vague
congratulation, admiring whispering, suppressed joy of uncertain origin,
which only awaited a word of enlightenment to turn to enthusiasm.
At last Granoux appeared. He paused for a moment on the threshold,
with his right hand pressed to his breast between the buttons of his
frock-coat; his broad pale face was beaming; in vain he strove to
conceal his emotion beneath an expression of dignity. All the others
became silent on perceiving him; they felt that something extraordinary
was about to take place. Granoux walked straight up to Rougon, through
two lines of visitors, and held out his hand to him.
"My friend," he said, "I bring you the homage of the Municipal Council.
They call you to their head, until our mayor shall be restored to us.
You have saved Plassans. In the terrible crisis through which we are
passing we want men who, like yourself, unite intelligence with courage.
Come--"
At this point Granoux, who was reciting a little speech which he had
taken great trouble to prepare on his way from the Town Hall to the
Rue de la Banne felt his memory fail him. But Rougon, overwhelmed with
emotion, broke in, shaking his hand and repeating: "Thank you, my dear
Granoux; I thank you very much.
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