Second Chance.
There exists a theory according to which any man has just one big chance to become... great, in the usual meaning of this abstract word. Yes, any - whether a tramp or a prince. But - and this is the problem - this chance, in the 99% of all cases, comes either too early or too late for the man to use it properly, to become trully great. Only a few can and do make the right choice just in time, just when The Chance of Greatness comes.
Another theory that might be considered heretical by the followers of the previous one says that one gets lots of chances. Just use one - and you might either die in misery and mediocrity, either become "great". Or, more probably, you will go on with your life. Waiting for the next chance, mayhap. And then, the one after that. And like that, until you die, one way or another, whether succesful or not.
Leon Cugnot wasn't feeling succesful. Rather to the contrary, actually. His chance probably came too early for him to use it properly. Or was that just the first chance? Or was there any chance there at all? Regardless... here he was, a former Octave, under control of those who overthrew him... with his own help. Discouraging. But, really, that wasn't too important for Cugnot. No. The worst bit was that, well... France has fallen. France fell to the Committee of National Defense, a vile self-serving oligarchy that only pretended to stand for the people. That Committee was even worse than the old fascist regime, for it had somehow blinded the people, for it had managed to hijack the revolution and to make the people think it DOES stand for them. Oh, the Committee's rule was mild now, but that would change when it grows more confident. That was rather inevitable.
And for now... for now, the Committee was merciful. It even lifted the house arrest, though it felt more like an insult than mercy. It lifted the house arrest... and replaced it with secret agents that were making sure he doesn't try anything. Just in case.
The worst of it was that at first, Cugnot actually believed they would let him go now. He still was... naive, as Jomini, that traitor Georges Jomini, put it. They replaced the strict, overt control with just as strict, but better-hidden control, control that went... unnoticed, most of the times. Cugnot himself only became convinced that they were watching him when he, through careful observation, established that some people - he indentified three of them, two of them women - were following him no matter where he went outside of his house. He was quite sure they also had some way to look after him even in his house. Or would find a way.
Right now, he couldn't see any of the people who were... watching him, but possibly they were hidding better this time - he didn't always notice them, after all, only when they weren't careful enough. Or maybe they sent someone else to spy on him. There were too many versions...
Leon Cugnot was in a bad mood. He was too immersed in his thoughts to notice much of anything around him; thankfully, by now he knew the road to the newspaper's publishing house. Thanks to his old connections - really his father's - he managed to get a temporary (so he planned) job in a liberal newspaper, as a columnist. The newspaper owner - Henri Peiler was initially, like all the other potential employers whom Cugnot approached, wary of hiring such an odious person (though he never explicitly stated that), despite his "pity" for him, but later, "for old times' sake", or maybe out of hope that this might interest people, agreed. Cugnot didn't like his job - not only was it many steps down, but he also was skeptical of his own writing abilities, yet at the same time irritated by the fact that he often had to change lots of things in his column, to avoid offending anybody at all. What's the point of a political newspaper then?
When he finally arrived at the publishing house, a guard informed him there was someone waiting for him inside. Surprised - and wary - Leon Cugnot walked into the house, and almost immediately bumped into a well-dressed, elegant middle-aged man, who asked Cugnot whether he was "a Leon Cugnot". When he admitted that, the man immediately offered his hand to Cugnot.
"Robert Cadenet." - the well-dressed man introduced himself, shaking Cugnot's hand - "Come, mssr. Cugnot. I have a certain offer for you... the newspaper will wait, I talked with mssr. Peiler. We must speak in private - I know a restaraunt half an hour from here, it is quite good and, more importantly, reliable..."
Cugnot's heart begun beating faster as he nodded in assent and listened to Cadenet's explanations about the exact plan of the meeting. Could it be?..