He had just
remembered that he had not received the "Gazette."
The bookseller made his appearance in a very bad humour.
"Well!" Rougon asked him as he took him aside, "what about the article
you promised me? I haven't seen the paper."
"Is that what you disturbed me for?" Vuillet angrily retorted. "The
'Gazette' has not been issued; I've no desire to get myself murdered
to-morrow, should the insurgents come back."
Rougon tried to smile as he declared that, thank heaven, nobody would be
murdered at all. It was precisely because false and disquieting rumours
were running about that the article in question would have rendered
great service to the good cause.
"Possibly," Vuillet resumed; "but the best of causes at the present
time is to keep one's head on one's shoulders." And he added, with
maliciousness, "And I was under the impression you had killed all the
insurgents! You've left too many of them for me to run any risk."
Rougon, when he was alone again, felt amazed at this mutiny on the part
of a man who was usually so meek and mild. Vuillet's conduct seemed
to him suspicious. But he had no time to seek an explanation; he had
scarcely stretched himself out afresh in his arm-chair, when Roudier
entered, with a big sabre, which he had attached to his belt, clattering
noisily against his legs. The sleepers awoke in a fright. Granoux
thought it was a call to arms.
"Eh? what! What's the matter?" he asked, as he hastily put his black
silk cap into his pocket.
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