"A military commission!" exclaimed d'Aché, with a contemptuous shrug of his wide shoulders. "The War Office! Hark at the insolence of that Corsican upstart!"
The others laughed, too. The Empire of France and its vast military and civil organization were mere objects of derision to these irrefragable Royalists.
"What was this military commission?" queried de Puisaye after a while.
"Ah, my good de Puisaye," exclaimed M. de Courson with a sigh, "you have lived so completely out of the world these past six or seven years, that I suppose you have no notion how absolutely this unfortunate country has come under the sway of military dictatorship. Everything, my good friend, is under military control--the police, of course; the municipality, the hospitals, the schools, the Church--let alone factories and munition foundries. Every man who owns and controls any kind of armament works and who finds it difficult to cope with his men has, it seems, the right to apply to the War Office to send him as many representatives as he may deem expedient to help him keep his workers in order. These representatives are really overseers with military rank and military authority; very convenient for the masters, but none too pleasant for the men!"
"Military tyranny invariably treads on the heels of democratic revolt," said Prigent sententiously. "The English have had their Cromwell, the unfortunate French nation is groaning under its Bonaparte."
"It does very little groaning just now," quoth M. de Courson dryly. "Bonaparte is amazingly popular. The army worships him--_cela va sans dire_--but so does the populace. We have had great difficulty in rallying the proletariat round here to their allegiance."
"Well," interjected d'Aché somewhat impatiently, "what did this military commission do _enfin_? What did it consist of?"
"It consisted of four or five exceedingly vulgar men in uniform, who ruled the Maurel foundries with a rod of iron. Punishments for slackness and disobedience were doled out with a free hand, and the slightest attempt at concerted grumbling was instantly met with handcuffs, arrest, bread and water and other unpleasant manifestations of military discipline. The men openly sighed for the return of 'the General,' as they call Ronnay de Maurel, though he was none too pleasant a taskmaster either, so I've been told."