He entered the office of the “Independant” like a hurricane, and asked for his article in a choking voice.  The article had already been imposed.  He had the forme unlocked and would not rest until he had himself destroyed the setting, mixing the type in a furious manner, like a set of dominoes.  The bookseller who managed the paper looked at him in amazement.  He was, in reality, rather glad of the incident, as the article had seemed to him somewhat dangerous.  But he was absolutely obliged to have some copy, if the “Independant” was to appear.

“Are you going to give me something else?” he asked.

“Certainly,” replied Aristide.

He sat down at the table and began a warm panegyric on the Coup d’Etat.  At the very first line, he swore that Prince Louis had just saved the Republic; but he had hardly written a page before he stopped and seemed at a loss how to continue.  A troubled look came over his pole-cat face.

“I must go home,” he said at last.  “I will send you this immediately.  Your paper can appear a little later, if necessary.”

He walked slowly on his way home, lost in meditation.  He was again giving way to indecision.  Why should he veer round so quickly?  Eugene was an intelligent fellow, but his mother had perhaps exaggerated the significance of some sentence in his letter.  In any case, it would be better to wait and hold his tongue.

An hour later Angele called at the bookseller’s, feigning deep emotion.

“My husband has just severely injured himself,” she said.  “He jammed his four fingers in a door as he was coming in.  In spite of his sufferings, he has dictated this little note, which he begs you to publish to-morrow.”

On the following day the “Independant,” made up almost entirely of miscellaneous items of news, appeared with these few lines at the head of the first column: 

“A deplorable accident which has occurred to our eminent contributor Monsieur Aristide Rougon will deprive us of his articles for some time.  He will suffer at having to remain silent in the present grave circumstances.  None of our readers will doubt, however, the good wishes which he offers up with patriotic feelings for the welfare of France.”

This burlesque note had been maturely studied.  The last sentence might be interpreted in favour of all parties.  By this expedient, Aristide devised a glorious return for himself on the morrow of battle, in the shape of a laudatory article on the victors.  On the following day he showed himself to the whole town, with his arm in a sling.  His mother, frightened by the notice in the paper, hastily called upon him, but he refused to show her his hand, and spoke with a bitterness which enlightened the old woman.

“It won’t be anything,” she said in a reassuring and somewhat sarcastic tone, as she was leaving.  “You only want a little rest.”

It was no doubt owing to this pretended accident, and the sub-prefect’s departure, that the “Independant” was not interfered with, like most of the democratic papers of the departments.