THE URN

Comedy in two acts Repeated approximately every four years

ACT I (Garden Side)
Colas the gardener was going to great lengths, because his boss, the deputy, had arrived at dawn to reconnect with his voters, before the start of the campaign. “The opening of hostilities! As the peasants said, laughing under their breath. Mr. Bourdin's presence had already spread across the country like wildfire, so the doorbell wouldn't stop.

Let him sleep! Colas responded imperturbably to all the questions. He's resting after not having done anything for four years! murmured the rejected voters.

Soon the deputy, after a brief toilet, arrived at his front, rubbing his hands.

So what are they saying in the country? he asked his gardener.

Not much, replied the other, except that you don't come often enough, since the trips cost you nothing.

He shrugged his shoulders and excused himself, citing commissions and questions. If you only knew, what a life, my poor Colas, not for a minute! Lady, you have to earn your month!.... The conversation was about to continue, when a violent ring of the doorbell interrupted it.
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Another one, declared the gardener, which surely has something to claim.

Good! Leave the door open, I want to receive everyone, ordered the deputy. Colas obeyed and found himself in front of three beggars.

The people are arriving in flocks at this time, he said to himself, it's going to be hot today!
And without becoming any more moved, he returned to his weeds.

It was, until lunch, an endless parade of recriminations, demands, promises. Mr. Bourdin took the names, accumulated notes after notes and the interview always ended with a cordial handshake accompanied by the traditional phrase: Count on me, as I count
on you!

In the afternoon, it was the turn of the companies, the delegations, the distillers; it was necessary to taste all the barrels and caress all the future candidates for the agricultural competition.

This existence of overwork lasted eight days, without peace or respite for the unfortunate honorable man. Didn't most of his voters consider him to be the omnipotent being before whom all barriers were lowered? If he didn't come back, we'd see about talking to someone else later.

“It is only you, my good Colas, who is happy with your lot,” he said, putting on his overcoat, as he was leaving again that evening.
Of course! replied the latter; However, I would have to see about getting my tax relief, otherwise there would be no point in being at your service! The request was recorded like all the others, and with a light heart, the deputy was able to go to the farewell banquet.

It was a great oratorical success; he spoke for three hours at length, tackling all subjects at once: foreign and internal policy; disarmament, cost of living, pensions, birth rate, and slipped slightly on new taxes. He was taken to the station in triumph, the local fanfare gave him an aubade; and when the train set off towards Paris, excited heads took up the chorus in chorus.

Stunned, the travelers started at the doors, and at the level crossing we could still hear singing in the night:
Climb on that... Climb on that... Climb on that... and you will see Montmartre. The future was full of promise.

ACT II (Court side)

It's the big day and Colas got up very agitated, he started by bickering with his wife, furious at having seen his taxes increase. Tempers have been rising since the day before and the outgoing list is fiercely opposed by four other new ones, completely unknown, which promise mountains and wonders. The conferences took place daily, to the great joy of the merchants who would like to see these little festivals repeated every year.

Who are you voting for? Toine the wheelwright asked the gardener, emptying the first round.
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And there you go, the other one!
You! It's none of your business!
And neither!
They went through groups to gain votes from their partners.

The atmosphere was downright hostile. Around noon, Colas returned home with a foggy brain.

You're clean! cried his wife, a virago man, wasn't it the isolated guy who arranged you like that?

Who is passing? You only know...

Leave me alone, otherwise it will get bad! replied Colas, suddenly furious. He quickly swallowed his pittance and returned to the news.

The crowd was compact on the Town Hall Square, and the guys were returning from the voting room casting a look of distrust. Finally, around six o'clock, the counting began, fraud required several tallies, there were soon more ballots than registered.

In the village, the outgoing list was defeated. We applaud wildly. Wait, it's not over, there are the other municipalities, announced the mayor, and around midnight he received the final result from the sub-prefecture. Bourdin returned with a large majority. I said so, cried Colas! He's our man. Long live Bourdin, and everyone shout:
Long live Bourdin! He only has friends. Toine suddenly took him to task and a violent discussion arose between the two of them. They were going to come to blows; they had to be separated.

Come on, you agree, since the voice of the people has spoken, declared the teacher with emphasis. Touched by this reasoning, Colas reconciled with Toine and took him home.

His wife was waiting for him and the marital storm broke out. So, he went back to being useless! she asked threateningly, and in her anger she jostled the men who were shaking on their legs. In their effort to regain their balance, papers fell from their pockets. These were their report cards. You just didn't vote, the shrew screamed in fury.

We didn't think of it, they replied pitifully; and they went out with bowed heads.
Hateful, she closed her door, leaving them outside, and with clenched fists, she sobbed. Just hope that we have the right to the ballot box, you will see if you will be the masters!

ARNAUD DE LAPORTE.