In 1965 by Albert Robida

Author:Albert Robida [Robida, Albert]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Black Coat Press
Published: 2019-04-23T00:00:00+00:00

XV. A Field of Social Experimentation.

“What a delightful son-in-law that dear Valette is!” said Monsieur Montgrabel, lighting an excellent synthetic cigar. “Yes, certainly, he truly is the synthesis of all the perfections desirable in a son-in-law! Speeches, toasts, factory visits, explanations on the spot, he takes all the difficulties upon himself, and I no longer have anything to do but relax. I’ve ordered the autos for two o’clock, after lunch. Oh, if all our affairs went as well as this one, what tranquility we’d have! But there’ll still be hindrance, I sense it. Anyway, in the meantime, let’s relax! Come on, Charles, have a cigar; let’s set the black ideas aside. There’ll be time to resume worrying in Paris. Monsieur Larose will leave, taking away that poor Monsieur Blossière, whose face remains disagreeable to us in spite of everything. Let’s relax!”

Charles was about to ply when an employee came in and deposited an enormous stack of papers on the directorial desk.

“What’s all this?” demanded Monsieur Montgrabel.

“Your correspondence, Monsieur—letters, wireless messages, newspaper cuttings, etc.”

“Damn! Still persecuted here!

Monsieur Montgrabel made a start on the mass of persecuting messages. As he scanned the letters and messages or listened on the little apparatus on the desk to the phonograph disks, a crease furrowed his brow, and the back lock of hair above it twisted into several curls.

Twenty-five letters screwed up into balls went into the waste paper baskets under the desk or to the side; twenty-five messages were put to one side, abruptly annotated in pencil, as if by sword-thrusts. Montgrabel bounded to the tele two or three times for rapid communications and then resumed opening envelopes; then he rang again to summon one of his divisional chiefs.

“Well, what can you tell me about the Consumer Societies?”

“The movement is growing, Monsieur; leagues are forming to struggle against the trusts and the cartels...”

“That’s all right, the market will equilibrate...”

“It would appear…it’s said…that they’re ideas highly recommended in a recent book, The House...”

“…hold of the Nation. I know.”

“Now, a syndicate of those leagues has formed, which has voted as honorary president, the author, Monsieur Boissy, and with every passing minute, proposals are arriving here from Committees, telegrams and demands, for Monsieur Boissy...”

“Not known!”

“That’s what I’m tired of repeating—but the syndicate persists; it advises me that tomorrow, a delegation will come to beg Monsieur Camille Boissy to accept that honorable presidency.”

“Send that delegation away, energetically!”

“An exclamation from Charles interrupted him. Monsieur Montgrabel turned round. Charles had risen to his feet, very pale, dropping a heap of files and Monsieur Montgrabel’s briefcase. The latter cut off the communication swiftly.

“Well, what? What is it now?”

“The letters!” said Charles.

“The letters? What letters?”

“The Poste Restante letters! Here they are…in the synthetic factories file.”

“The file…that I brought from Paris. That’s true. The same envelopes. I knew that there was something else in that famous handbag! Where was my head? I remember perfectly. When the object was brought to me, I as settling a few details with Valette with regard to these factories, and I must have inadvertently stuck those in the file.

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