blood on his paw.

New men, that is what they term them. New, in truth! Unlooked-for,
strange, unprecedented, monstrous! Perjury, iniquity, robbery,
assassination, erected into ministerial departments, swindling applied
to universal suffrage, government under false pretences, duty called
crime, crime called duty, cynicism laughing in the midst of
atrocity,--it is of all this that their newness is compounded.

Now, all is well, they have succeeded, they have a fair wind, they enjoy
themselves to the full. They have cheated France, they are dividing the
spoil. France is a bag, and they put their hand in it. Rummage, for
Heaven's sake! Take, while you are there; help yourselves, draw out,
plunder, steal! One wants money, another wants situations, another wants
a decorative collar round his neck, another a plume in his hat, another
embroidery on his sleeve, another women, another power; another news for
the Bourse, another a railway, another wine. I should think, indeed,
that they are well satisfied. Picture to yourself a poor devil who,
three years ago, borrowed ten sous of his porter, and who to-day,
leaning voluptuously on the _Moniteur_, has only to sign a decree to
take a million. To make themselves perfectly happy, to be able to devour
the finances of the State, to live at the expense of the Treasury like a
son of the family, this is what is called their policy. Their ambition
has a true name, it is gluttony.

They ambitious? Nonsense! They are gluttons. To govern is to gamble.
This does not prevent betrayal. On the contrary, they spy upon each
other, they betray each other. The little traitors betray the great
traitors. Pietri looks askance at Maupas, and Maupas at Carlier. They
all lie in the same reeking sewer! They have achieved the _coup d'etat_
in common. That is all. Moreover they feel sure of nothing, neither of
glances, nor of smiles, nor of hidden thoughts, nor of men, nor of
women, nor of the lacquey, nor of the prince, nor of words of honor, nor
of birth certificates. Each feels himself fraudulent, and knows himself
suspected. Each has his secret aims. Each alone knows why he has done
this. Not one utters a word about his crime, and no one bears the name
of his father. Ah! may God grant me life, and may Jesus pardon me, I
will raise a gibbet a hundred yards high, I will take hammer and nails,
and I will crucify this Beauharnais called Bonaparte, between this Leroy
called Saint-Arnoud, and this Fialin cal