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diff --git a/1403-h/1403-h.htm b/1403-h/1403-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..0c4f1b0 --- /dev/null +++ b/1403-h/1403-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,8172 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="UTF-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + A Start in Life, by Honore de Balzac + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 1403 ***</div> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h1> + A START IN LIFE + </h1> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h2> + By Honore De Balzac + </h2> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h3> + Translated by Katharine Prescott Wormeley + </h3> + <p> + <br /><br /> <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + DEDICATION + + To Laure. + + Let the brilliant mind that gave me the subject of this Scene + have the honor of it. + + Her brother, + + De Balzac +</pre> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h2> + Contents + </h2> + <h3> + <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> <b>A START IN LIFE</b> </a> + </h3> + <h3> + </h3> + <table summary="" style="margin-right: auto; margin-left: auto"> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I. </a> + </td> + <td> + THAT WHICH WAS LACKING TO PIERROTIN’S HAPPINESS + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II. </a> + </td> + <td> + THE STEWARD IN DANGER + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III. </a> + </td> + <td> + THE TRAVELLERS + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV. </a> + </td> + <td> + THE GRANDSON OF THE FAMOUS CZERNI-GEORGES + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V. </a> + </td> + <td> + THE DRAMA BEGINS + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI. </a> + </td> + <td> + THE MOREAU INTERIOR + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII. </a> + </td> + <td> + A MOTHER’S TRIALS + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII. </a> + </td> + <td> + TRICKS AND FARCES OF THE EMBRYO LONG ROBE + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX. </a> + </td> + <td> + LA MARQUISE DE LAS FLORENTINAS Y CABIROLOS + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X. </a> + </td> + <td> + ANOTHER CATASTROPHE + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XI. </a> + </td> + <td> + OSCAR’S LAST BLUNDER + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <h3> + <a href="#link2H_4_0013"> ADDENDUM </a> + </h3> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h1> + A START IN LIFE + </h1> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER I. THAT WHICH WAS LACKING TO PIERROTIN’S HAPPINESS + </h2> + <p> + Railroads, in a future not far distant, must force certain industries to + disappear forever, and modify several others, more especially those + relating to the different modes of transportation in use around Paris. + Therefore the persons and things which are the elements of this Scene will + soon give to it the character of an archaeological work. Our nephews ought + to be enchanted to learn the social material of an epoch which they will + call the “olden time.” The picturesque “coucous” which stood on the Place + de la Concorde, encumbering the Cours-la-Reine,—coucous which had + flourished for a century, and were still numerous in 1830, scarcely exist + in 1842, unless on the occasion of some attractive suburban solemnity, + like that of the Grandes Eaux of Versailles. In 1820, the various + celebrated places called the “Environs of Paris” did not all possess a + regular stage-coach service. + </p> + <p> + Nevertheless, the Touchards, father and son, had acquired a monopoly of + travel and transportation to all the populous towns within a radius of + forty-five miles; and their enterprise constituted a fine establishment in + the rue du Faubourg-Saint-Denis. In spite of their long-standing rights, + in spite, too, of their efforts, their capital, and all the advantages of + a powerful centralization, the Touchard coaches (“messageries”) found + terrible competition in the coucous for all points with a circumference of + fifteen or twenty miles. The passion of the Parisian for the country is + such that local enterprise could successfully compete with the Lesser + Stage company,—Petites Messageries, the name given to the Touchard + enterprise to distinguish it from that of the Grandes Messageries of the + rue Montmartre. At the time of which we write, the Touchard success was + stimulating speculators. For every small locality in the neighborhood of + Paris there sprang up schemes of beautiful, rapid, and commodious + vehicles, departing and arriving in Paris at fixed hours, which produced, + naturally, a fierce competition. Beaten on the long distances of twelve to + eighteen miles, the coucou came down to shorter trips, and so lived on for + several years. At last, however, it succumbed to omnibuses, which + demonstrated the possibility of carrying eighteen persons in a vehicle + drawn by two horses. To-day the coucous—if by chance any of those + birds of ponderous flight still linger in the second-hand carriage-shops—might + be made, as to its structure and arrangement, the subject of learned + researches comparable to those of Cuvier on the animals discovered in the + chalk pits of Montmartre. + </p> + <p> + These petty enterprises, which had struggled since 1822 against the + Touchards, usually found a strong foothold in the good-will and sympathy + of the inhabitants of the districts which they served. The person + undertaking the business as proprietor and conductor was nearly always an + inn-keeper along the route, to whom the beings, things, and interests with + which he had to do were all familiar. He could execute commissions + intelligently; he never asked as much for his little stages, and therefore + obtained more custom than the Touchard coaches. He managed to elude the + necessity of a custom-house permit. If need were, he was willing to + infringe the law as to the number of passengers he might carry. In short, + he possessed the affection of the masses; and thus it happened that + whenever a rival came upon the same route, if his days for running were + not the same as those of the coucou, travellers would put off their + journey to make it with their long-tried coachman, although his vehicle + and his horses might be in a far from reassuring condition. + </p> + <p> + One of the lines which the Touchards, father and son, endeavored to + monopolize, and the one most stoutly disputed (as indeed it still is), is + that of Paris to Beaumont-sur-Oise,—a line extremely profitable, for + three rival enterprises worked it in 1822. In vain the Touchards lowered + their price; in vain they constructed better coaches and started oftener. + Competition still continued, so productive is a line on which are little + towns like Saint-Denis and Saint-Brice, and villages like Pierrefitte, + Groslay, Ecouen, Poncelles, Moisselles, Monsoult, Maffliers, Franconville, + Presles, Nointel, Nerville, etc. The Touchard coaches finally extended + their route to Chambly; but competition followed. To-day the Toulouse, a + rival enterprise, goes as far as Beauvais. + </p> + <p> + Along this route, which is that toward England, there lies a road which + turns off at a place well-named, in view of its topography, The Cave, and + leads through a most delightful valley in the basin of the Oise to the + little town of Isle-Adam, doubly celebrated as the cradle of the family, + now extinct, of Isle-Adam, and also as the former residence of the + Bourbon-Contis. Isle-Adam is a little town flanked by two large villages, + Nogent and Parmain, both remarkable for splendid quarries, which have + furnished material for many of the finest buildings in modern Paris and in + foreign lands,—for the base and capital of the columns of the + Brussels theatre are of Nogent stone. Though remarkable for its beautiful + sites, for the famous chateaux which princes, monks, and designers have + built, such as Cassan, Stors, Le Val, Nointel, Persan, etc., this region + had escaped competition in 1822, and was reached by two coaches only, + working more or less in harmony. + </p> + <p> + This exception to the rule of rivalry was founded on reasons that are easy + to understand. From the Cave, the point on the route to England where a + paved road (due to the luxury of the Princes of Conti) turned off to + Isle-Adam, the distance is six miles. No speculating enterprise would make + such a detour, for Isle-Adam was the terminus of the road, which did not + go beyond it. Of late years, another road has been made between the valley + of Montmorency and the valley of the Oise; but in 1822 the only road which + led to Isle-Adam was the paved highway of the Princes of Conti. Pierrotin + and his colleague reigned, therefore, from Paris to Isle-Adam, beloved by + every one along the way. Pierrotin’s vehicle, together with that of his + comrade, and Pierrotin himself, were so well known that even the + inhabitants on the main road as far as the Cave were in the habit of using + them; for there was always better chance of a seat to be had than in the + Beaumont coaches, which were almost always full. Pierrotin and his + competitor were on the best of terms. When the former started from + Isle-Adam, the latter was returning from Paris, and vice versa. + </p> + <p> + It is unnecessary to speak of the rival. Pierrotin possessed the + sympathies of his region; besides, he is the only one of the two who + appears in this veracious narrative. Let it suffice you to know that the + two coach proprietors lived under a good understanding, rivalled each + other loyally, and obtained customers by honorable proceedings. In Paris + they used, for economy’s sake, the same yard, hotel, and stable, the same + coach-house, office, and clerk. This detail is alone sufficient to show + that Pierrotin and his competitor were, as the popular saying is, “good + dough.” The hotel at which they put up in Paris, at the corner of the rue + d’Enghien, is still there, and is called the “Lion d’Argent.” The + proprietor of the establishment, which from time immemorial had lodged + coachmen and coaches, drove himself for the great company of Daumartin, + which was so firmly established that its neighbors, the Touchards, whose + place of business was directly opposite, never dreamed of starting a rival + coach on the Daumartin line. + </p> + <p> + Though the departures for Isle-Adam professed to take place at a fixed + hour, Pierrotin and his co-rival practised an indulgence in that respect + which won for them the grateful affection of the country-people, and also + violent remonstrances on the part of strangers accustomed to the + regularity of the great lines of public conveyances. But the two + conductors of these vehicles, which were half diligence, half coucou, were + invariably defended by their regular customers. The afternoon departure at + four o’clock usually lagged on till half-past, while that of the morning, + fixed for eight o’clock, was seldom known to take place before nine. In + this respect, however, the system was elastic. In summer, that golden + period for the coaching business, the rule of departure, rigorous toward + strangers, was often relaxed for country customers. This method not + infrequently enabled Pierrotin to pocket two fares for one place, if a + countryman came early and wanted a seat already booked and paid for by + some “bird of passage” who was, unluckily for himself, a little late. Such + elasticity will certainly not commend itself to purists in morality; but + Pierrotin and his colleague justified it on the varied grounds of “hard + times,” of their losses during the winter months, of the necessity of soon + getting better coaches, and of the duty of keeping exactly to the rules + written on the tariff, copies of which were, however, never shown, unless + some chance traveller was obstinate enough to demand it. + </p> + <p> + Pierrotin, a man about forty years of age, was already the father of a + family. Released from the cavalry on the great disbandment of 1815, the + worthy fellow had succeeded his father, who for many years had driven a + coucou of capricious flight between Paris and Isle-Adam. Having married + the daughter of a small inn-keeper, he enlarged his business, made it a + regular service, and became noted for his intelligence and a certain + military precision. Active and decided in his ways, Pierrotin (the name + seems to have been a sobriquet) contrived to give, by the vivacity of his + countenance, an expression of sly shrewdness to his ruddy and + weather-stained visage which suggested wit. He was not without that + facility of speech which is acquired chiefly through “seeing life” and + other countries. His voice, by dint of talking to his horses and shouting + “Gare!” was rough; but he managed to tone it down with the bourgeois. His + clothing, like that of all coachmen of the second class, consisted of + stout boots, heavy with nails, made at Isle-Adam, trousers of bottle-green + velveteen, waistcoat of the same, over which he wore, while exercising his + functions, a blue blouse, ornamented on the collar, shoulder-straps and + cuffs, with many-colored embroidery. A cap with a visor covered his head. + His military career had left in Pierrotin’s manners and customs a great + respect for all social superiority, and a habit of obedience to persons of + the upper classes; and though he never willingly mingled with the lesser + bourgeoisie, he always respected women in whatever station of life they + belonged. Nevertheless, by dint of “trundling the world,”—one of his + own expressions,—he had come to look upon those he conveyed as so + many walking parcels, who required less care than the inanimate ones,—the + essential object of a coaching business. + </p> + <p> + Warned by the general movement which, since the Peace, was revolutionizing + his calling, Pierrotin would not allow himself to be outdone by the + progress of new lights. Since the beginning of the summer season he had + talked much of a certain large coach, ordered from Farry, Breilmann, and + Company, the best makers of diligences,—a purchase necessitated by + an increasing influx of travellers. Pierrotin’s present establishment + consisted of two vehicles. One, which served in winter, and the only one + he reported to the tax-gatherer, was the coucou which he inherited from + his father. The rounded flanks of this vehicle allowed him to put six + travellers on two seats, of metallic hardness in spite of the yellow + Utrecht velvet with which they were covered. These seats were separated by + a wooden bar inserted in the sides of the carriage at the height of the + travellers’ shoulders, which could be placed or removed at will. This bar, + specially covered with velvet (Pierrotin called it “a back”), was the + despair of the passengers, from the great difficulty they found in placing + and removing it. If the “back” was difficult and even painful to handle, + that was nothing to the suffering caused to the omoplates when the bar was + in place. But when it was left to lie loose across the coach, it made both + ingress and egress extremely perilous, especially to women. + </p> + <p> + Though each seat of this vehicle, with rounded sides like those of a + pregnant woman, could rightfully carry only three passengers, it was not + uncommon to see eight persons on the two seats jammed together like + herrings in a barrel. Pierrotin declared that the travellers were far more + comfortable in a solid, immovable mass; whereas when only three were on a + seat they banged each other perpetually, and ran much risk of injuring + their hats against the roof by the violent jolting of the roads. In front + of the vehicle was a wooden bench where Pierrotin sat, on which three + travellers could perch; when there, they went, as everybody knows, by the + name of “rabbits.” On certain trips Pierrotin placed four rabbits on the + bench, and sat himself at the side, on a sort of box placed below the body + of the coach as a foot-rest for the rabbits, which was always full of + straw, or of packages that feared no damage. The body of this particular + coucou was painted yellow, embellished along the top with a band of + barber’s blue, on which could be read, on the sides, in silvery white + letters, “Isle-Adam, Paris,” and across the back, “Line to Isle-Adam.” + </p> + <p> + Our descendants will be mightily mistaken if they fancy that thirteen + persons including Pierrotin were all that this vehicle could carry. On + great occasions it could take three more in a square compartment covered + with an awning, where the trunks, cases, and packages were piled; but the + prudent Pierrotin only allowed his regular customers to sit there, and + even they were not allowed to get in until at some distance beyond the + “barriere.” The occupants of the “hen-roost” (the name given by conductors + to this section of their vehicles) were made to get down outside of every + village or town where there was a post of gendarmerie; the overloading + forbidden by law, “for the safety of passengers,” being too obvious to + allow the gendarme on duty—always a friend to Pierrotin—to + avoid the necessity of reporting this flagrant violation of the + ordinances. Thus on certain Saturday nights and Monday mornings, + Pierrotin’s coucou “trundled” fifteen travellers; but on such occasions, + in order to drag it along, he gave his stout old horse, called Rougeot, a + mate in the person of a little beast no bigger than a pony, about whose + merits he had much to say. This little horse was a mare named Bichette; + she ate little, she was spirited, she was indefatigable, she was worth her + weight in gold. + </p> + <p> + “My wife wouldn’t give her for that fat lazybones of a Rougeot!” cried + Pierrotin, when some traveller would joke him about his epitome of a + horse. + </p> + <p> + The difference between this vehicle and the other consisted chiefly in the + fact that the other was on four wheels. This coach, of comical + construction, called the “four-wheel-coach,” held seventeen travellers, + though it was bound not to carry more than fourteen. It rumbled so noisily + that the inhabitants of Isle-Adam frequently said, “Here comes Pierrotin!” + when he was scarcely out of the forest which crowns the slope of the + valley. It was divided into two lobes, so to speak: one, called the + “interior,” contained six passengers on two seats; the other, a sort of + cabriolet constructed in front, was called the “coupe.” This coupe was + closed in with very inconvenient and fantastic glass sashes, a description + of which would take too much space to allow of its being given here. The + four-wheeled coach was surmounted by a hooded “imperial,” into which + Pierrotin managed to poke six passengers; this space was inclosed by + leather curtains. Pierrotin himself sat on an almost invisible seat + perched just below the sashes of the coupe. + </p> + <p> + The master of the establishment paid the tax which was levied upon all + public conveyances on his coucou only, which was rated to carry six + persons; and he took out a special permit each time that he drove the + four-wheeler. This may seem extraordinary in these days, but when the tax + on vehicles was first imposed, it was done very timidly, and such + deceptions were easily practised by the coach proprietors, always pleased + to “faire la queue” (cheat of their dues) the government officials, to use + the argot of their vocabulary. Gradually the greedy Treasury became + severe; it forced all public conveyances not to roll unless they carried + two certificates,—one showing that they had been weighed, the other + that their taxes were duly paid. All things have their salad days, even + the Treasury; and in 1822 those days still lasted. Often in summer, the + “four-wheel-coach,” and the coucou journeyed together, carrying between + them thirty-two passengers, though Pierrotin was only paying a tax on six. + On these specially lucky days the convoy started from the faubourg + Saint-Denis at half-past four o’clock in the afternoon, and arrived + gallantly at Isle-Adam by ten at night. Proud of this service, which + necessitated the hire of an extra horse, Pierrotin was wont to say:— + </p> + <p> + “We went at a fine pace!” + </p> + <p> + But in order to do the twenty-seven miles in five hours with his caravan, + he was forced to omit certain stoppages along the road,—at + Saint-Brice, Moisselles, and La Cave. + </p> + <p> + The hotel du Lion d’Argent occupies a piece of land which is very deep for + its width. Though its frontage has only three or four windows on the + faubourg Saint-Denis, the building extends back through a long court-yard, + at the end of which are the stables, forming a large house standing close + against the division wall of the adjoining property. The entrance is + through a sort of passage-way beneath the floor of the second story, in + which two or three coaches had room to stand. In 1822 the offices of all + the lines of coaches which started from the Lion d’Argent were kept by the + wife of the inn-keeper, who had as many books as there were lines. She + received the fares, booked the passengers, and stowed away, + good-naturedly, in her vast kitchen the various packages and parcels to be + transported. Travellers were satisfied with this easy-going, patriarchal + system. If they arrived too soon, they seated themselves beneath the hood + of the huge kitchen chimney, or stood within the passage-way, or crossed + to the Cafe de l’Echiquier, which forms the corner of the street so named. + </p> + <p> + In the early days of the autumn of 1822, on a Saturday morning, Pierrotin + was standing, with his hands thrust into his pockets through the apertures + of his blouse, beneath the porte-cochere of the Lion d’Argent, whence he + could see, diagonally, the kitchen of the inn, and through the long + court-yard to the stables, which were defined in black at the end of it. + Daumartin’s diligence had just started, plunging heavily after those of + the Touchards. It was past eight o’clock. Under the enormous porch or + passage, above which could be read on a long sign, “Hotel du Lion + d’Argent,” stood the stablemen and porters of the coaching-lines watching + the lively start of the vehicles which deceives so many travellers, making + them believe that the horses will be kept to that vigorous gait. + </p> + <p> + “Shall I harness up, master?” asked Pierrotin’s hostler, when there was + nothing more to be seen along the road. + </p> + <p> + “It is a quarter-past eight, and I don’t see any travellers,” replied + Pierrotin. “Where have they poked themselves? Yes, harness up all the + same. And there are no parcels either! Twenty good Gods! a fine day like + this, and I’ve only four booked! A pretty state of things for a Saturday! + It is always the same when you want money! A dog’s life, and a dog’s + business!” + </p> + <p> + “If you had more, where would you put them? There’s nothing left but the + cabriolet,” said the hostler, intending to soothe Pierrotin. + </p> + <p> + “You forget the new coach!” cried Pierrotin. + </p> + <p> + “Have you really got it?” asked the man, laughing, and showing a set of + teeth as white and broad as almonds. + </p> + <p> + “You old good-for-nothing! It starts to-morrow, I tell you; and I want at + least eighteen passengers for it.” + </p> + <p> + “Ha, ha! a fine affair; it’ll warm up the road,” said the hostler. + </p> + <p> + “A coach like that which runs to Beaumont, hey? Flaming! painted red and + gold to make Touchard burst with envy! It takes three horses! I have + bought a mate for Rougeot, and Bichette will go finely in unicorn. Come, + harness up!” added Pierrotin, glancing out towards the street, and + stuffing the tobacco into his clay pipe. “I see a lady and lad over there + with packages under their arms; they are coming to the Lion d’Argent, for + they’ve turned a deaf ear to the coucous. Tiens, tiens! seems to me I know + that lady for an old customer.” + </p> + <p> + “You’ve often started empty, and arrived full,” said his porter, still by + way of consolation. + </p> + <p> + “But no parcels! Twenty good Gods! What a fate!” + </p> + <p> + And Pierrotin sat down on one of the huge stone posts which protected the + walls of the building from the wheels of the coaches; but he did so with + an anxious, reflective air that was not habitual with him. + </p> + <p> + This conversation, apparently insignificant, had stirred up cruel + anxieties which were slumbering in his breast. What could there be to + trouble the heart of Pierrotin in a fine new coach? To shine upon “the + road,” to rival the Touchards, to magnify his own line, to carry + passengers who would compliment him on the conveniences due to the + progress of coach-building, instead of having to listen to perpetual + complaints of his “sabots” (tires of enormous width),—such was + Pierrotin’s laudable ambition; but, carried away with the desire to + outstrip his comrade on the line, hoping that the latter might some day + retire and leave to him alone the transportation to Isle-Adam, he had gone + too far. The coach was indeed ordered from Barry, Breilmann, and Company, + coach-builders, who had just substituted square English springs for those + called “swan-necks,” and other old-fashioned French contrivances. But + these hard and distrustful manufacturers would only deliver over the + diligence in return for coin. Not particularly pleased to build a vehicle + which would be difficult to sell if it remained upon their hands, these + long-headed dealers declined to undertake it at all until Pierrotin had + made a preliminary payment of two thousand francs. To satisfy this + precautionary demand, Pierrotin had exhausted all his resources and all + his credit. His wife, his father-in-law, and his friends had bled. This + superb diligence he had been to see the evening before at the painter’s; + all it needed now was to be set a-rolling, but to make it roll, payment in + full must, alas! be made. + </p> + <p> + Now, a thousand francs were lacking to Pierrotin, and where to get them he + did not know. He was in debt to the master of the Lion d’Argent; he was in + danger of his losing his two thousand francs already paid to the + coach-builder, not counting five hundred for the mate to Rougeot, and + three hundred for new harnesses, on which he had a three-months’ credit. + Driven by the fury of despair and the madness of vanity, he had just + openly declared that the new coach was to start on the morrow. By offering + fifteen hundred francs, instead of the two thousand five hundred still + due, he was in hopes that the softened carriage-builders would give him + his coach. But after a few moments’ meditation, his feelings led him to + cry out aloud:— + </p> + <p> + “No! they’re dogs! harpies! Suppose I appeal to Monsieur Moreau, the + steward at Presles? he is such a kind man,” thought Pierrotin, struck with + a new idea. “Perhaps he would take my note for six months.” + </p> + <p> + At this moment a footman in livery, carrying a leather portmanteau and + coming from the Touchard establishment, where he had gone too late to + secure places as far as Chambly, came up and said:— + </p> + <p> + “Are you Pierrotin?” + </p> + <p> + “Say on,” replied Pierrotin. + </p> + <p> + “If you would wait a quarter of an hour, you could take my master. If not, + I’ll carry back the portmanteau and try to find some other conveyance.” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll wait two, three quarters, and throw a little in besides, my lad,” + said Pierrotin, eyeing the pretty leather trunk, well buckled, and bearing + a brass plate with a coat of arms. + </p> + <p> + “Very good; then take this,” said the valet, ridding his shoulder of the + trunk, which Pierrotin lifted, weighed, and examined. + </p> + <p> + “Here,” he said to his porter, “wrap it up carefully in soft hay and put + it in the boot. There’s no name upon it,” he added. + </p> + <p> + “Monseigneur’s arms are there,” replied the valet. + </p> + <p> + “Monseigneur! Come and take a glass,” said Pierrotin, nodding toward the + Cafe de l’Echiquier, whither he conducted the valet. “Waiter, two + absinthes!” he said, as he entered. “Who is your master? and where is he + going? I have never seen you before,” said Pierrotin to the valet as they + touched glasses. + </p> + <p> + “There’s a good reason for that,” said the footman. “My master only goes + into your parts about once a year, and then in his own carriage. He + prefers the valley d’Orge, where he has the most beautiful park in the + neighborhood of Paris, a perfect Versailles, a family estate of which he + bears the name. Don’t you know Monsieur Moreau?” + </p> + <p> + “The steward of Presles?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Monsieur le Comte is going down to spend a couple of days with him.” + </p> + <p> + “Ha! then I’m to carry Monsieur le Comte de Serizy!” cried the + coach-proprietor. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, my land, neither more nor less. But listen! here’s a special order. + If you have any of the country neighbors in your coach you are not to call + him Monsieur le comte; he wants to travel ‘en cognito,’ and told me to be + sure to say he would pay a handsome pourboire if he was not recognized.” + </p> + <p> + “So! Has this secret journey anything to do with the affair which Pere + Leger, the farmer at the Moulineaux, came to Paris the other day to + settle?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know,” replied the valet, “but the fat’s in the fire. Last night + I was sent to the stable to order the Daumont carriage to be ready to go + to Presles at seven this morning. But when seven o’clock came, Monsieur le + comte countermanded it. Augustin, his valet de chambre, attributes the + change to the visit of a lady who called last night, and again this + morning,—he thought she came from the country.” + </p> + <p> + “Could she have told him anything against Monsieur Moreau?—the best + of men, the most honest of men, a king of men, hey! He might have made a + deal more than he has out of his position, if he’d chosen; I can tell you + that.” + </p> + <p> + “Then he was foolish,” answered the valet, sententiously. + </p> + <p> + “Is Monsieur le Serizy going to live at Presles at last?” asked Pierrotin; + “for you know they have just repaired and refurnished the chateau. Do you + think it is true he has already spent two hundred thousand francs upon + it?” + </p> + <p> + “If you or I had half what he has spent upon it, you and I would be rich + bourgeois. If Madame la comtesse goes there—ha! I tell you what! no + more ease and comfort for the Moreaus,” said the valet, with an air of + mystery. + </p> + <p> + “He’s a worthy man, Monsieur Moreau,” remarked Pierrotin, thinking of the + thousand francs he wanted to get from the steward. “He is a man who makes + others work, but he doesn’t cheapen what they do; and he gets all he can + out of the land—for his master. Honest man! He often comes to Paris + and gives me a good fee: he has lots of errands for me to do in Paris; + sometimes three or four packages a day,—either from monsieur or + madame. My bill for cartage alone comes to fifty francs a month, more or + less. If madame does set up to be somebody, she’s fond of her children; + and it is I who fetch them from school and take them back; and each time + she gives me five francs,—a real great lady couldn’t do better than + that. And every time I have any one in the coach belonging to them or + going to see them, I’m allowed to drive up to the chateau,—that’s + all right, isn’t it?” + </p> + <p> + “They say Monsieur Moreau wasn’t worth three thousand francs when Monsieur + le comte made him steward of Presles,” said the valet. + </p> + <p> + “Well, since 1806, there’s seventeen years, and the man ought to have made + something at any rate.” + </p> + <p> + “True,” said the valet, nodding. “Anyway, masters are very annoying; and I + hope, for Moreau’s sake, that he has made butter for his bread.” + </p> + <p> + “I have often been to your house in the rue de la Chaussee d’Antin to + carry baskets of game,” said Pierrotin, “but I’ve never had the advantage, + so far of seeing either monsieur or madame.” + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur le comte is a good man,” said the footman, confidentially. “But + if he insists on your helping to keep up his cognito there’s something in + the wind. At any rate, so we think at the house; or else, why should he + countermand the Daumont,—why travel in a coucou? A peer of France + might afford to hire a cabriolet to himself, one would think.” + </p> + <p> + “A cabriolet would cost him forty francs to go there and back; for let me + tell you, if you don’t know it, that road was only made for squirrels,—up-hill + and down, down-hill and up!” said Pierrotin. “Peer of France or bourgeois, + they are all looking after the main chance, and saving their money. If + this journey concerns Monsieur Moreau, faith, I’d be sorry any harm should + come to him! Twenty good Gods! hadn’t I better find some way of warning + him?—for he’s a truly good man, a kind man, a king of men, hey!” + </p> + <p> + “Pooh! Monsieur le comte thinks everything of Monsieur Moreau,” replied + the valet. “But let me give you a bit of good advice. Every man for + himself in this world. We have enough to do to take care of ourselves. Do + what Monsieur le comte asks you to do, and all the more because there’s no + trifling with him. Besides, to tell the truth, the count is generous. If + you oblige him so far,” said the valet, pointing half-way down his little + finger, “he’ll send you on as far as that,” stretching out his arm to its + full length. + </p> + <p> + This wise reflection, and the action that enforced it, had the effect, + coming from a man who stood as high as second valet to the Comte de + Serizy, of cooling the ardor of Pierrotin for the steward of Presles. + </p> + <p> + “Well, adieu, Monsieur Pierrotin,” said the valet. + </p> + <p> + A glance rapidly cast on the life of the Comte de Serizy, and on that of + his steward, is here necessary in order to fully understand the little + drama now about to take place in Pierrotin’s vehicle. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER II. THE STEWARD IN DANGER + </h2> + <p> + Monsieur Huguet de Serisy descends in a direct line from the famous + president Huguet, ennobled under Francois I. + </p> + <p> + This family bears: party per pale or and sable, an orle counterchanged and + two lozenges counterchanged, with: “i, semper melius eris,”—a motto + which, together with the two distaffs taken as supporters, proves the + modesty of the burgher families in the days when the Orders held their + allotted places in the State; and the naivete of our ancient customs by + the pun on “eris,” which word, combined with the “i” at the beginning and + the final “s” in “melius,” forms the name (Serisy) of the estate from + which the family take their title. + </p> + <p> + The father of the present count was president of a parliament before the + Revolution. He himself a councillor of State at the Grand Council of 1787, + when he was only twenty-two years of age, was even then distinguished for + his admirable memoranda on delicate diplomatic matters. He did not + emigrate during the Revolution, and spent that period on his estate of + Serizy near Arpajon, where the respect in which his father was held + protected him from all danger. After spending several years in taking care + of the old president, who died in 1794, he was elected about that time to + the Council of the Five Hundred, and accepted those legislative functions + to divert his mind from his grief. After the 18th Brumaire, Monsieur de + Serizy became, like so many other of the old parliamentary families, an + object of the First Consul’s blandishment. He was appointed to the Council + of State, and received one of the most disorganized departments of the + government to reconstruct. This scion of an old historical family proved + to be a very active wheel in the grand and magnificent organization which + we owe to Napoleon. + </p> + <p> + The councillor of State was soon called from his particular administration + to a ministry. Created count and senator by the Emperor, he was made + proconsul to two kingdoms in succession. In 1806, when forty years of age, + he married the sister of the ci-devant Marquis de Ronquerolles, the widow + at twenty of Gaubert, one of the most illustrious of the Republican + generals, who left her his whole property. This marriage, a suitable one + in point of rank, doubled the already considerable fortune of the Comte de + Serizy, who became through his wife the brother-in-law of the ci-devant + Marquis de Rouvre, made count and chamberlain by the Emperor. + </p> + <p> + In 1814, weary with constant toil, the Comte de Serizy, whose shattered + health required rest, resigned all his posts, left the department at the + head of which the Emperor had placed him, and came to Paris, where + Napoleon was compelled by the evidence of his eyes to admit that the + count’s illness was a valid excuse, though at first that <i>unfatiguable</i> + master, who gave no heed to the fatigue of others, was disposed to + consider Monsieur de Serizy’s action as a defection. Though the senator + was never in disgrace, he was supposed to have reason to complain of + Napoleon. Consequently, when the Bourbons returned, Louis XVIII., whom + Monsieur de Serizy held to be his legitimate sovereign, treated the + senator, now a peer of France, with the utmost confidence, placed him in + charge of his private affairs, and appointed him one of his cabinet + ministers. On the 20th of March, Monsieur de Serizy did not go to Ghent. + He informed Napoleon that he remained faithful to the house of Bourbon; + would not accept his peerage during the Hundred Days, and passed that + period on his estate at Serizy. + </p> + <p> + After the second fall of the Emperor, he became once more a + privy-councillor, was appointed vice-president of the Council of State, + and liquidator, on behalf of France, of claims and indemnities demanded by + foreign powers. Without personal assumption, without ambition even, he + possessed great influence in public affairs. Nothing of importance was + done without consulting him; but he never went to court, and was seldom + seen in his own salons. This noble life, devoting itself from its very + beginning to work, had ended by becoming a life of incessant toil. The + count rose at all seasons by four o’clock in the morning, and worked till + mid-day, attended to his functions as peer of France and vice-president of + the Council of State in the afternoons, and went to bed at nine o’clock. + In recognition of such labor, the King had made him a knight of his + various Orders. Monsieur de Serizy had long worn the grand cross of the + Legion of honor; he also had the orders of the Golden Fleece, of + Saint-Andrew of Russia, that of the Prussian Eagle, and nearly all the + lesser Orders of the courts of Europe. No man was less obvious, or more + useful in the political world than he. It is easy to understand that the + world’s honor, the fuss and feathers of public favor, the glories of + success were indifferent to a man of this stamp; but no one, unless a + priest, ever comes to life of this kind without some serious underlying + reason. His conduct had its cause, and a cruel one. + </p> + <p> + In love with his wife before he married her, this passion had lasted + through all the secret unhappiness of his marriage with a widow,—a + woman mistress of herself before as well as after her second marriage, and + who used her liberty all the more freely because her husband treated her + with the indulgence of a mother for a spoilt child. His constant toil + served him as shield and buckler against pangs of heart which he silenced + with the care that diplomatists give to the keeping of secrets. He knew, + moreover, how ridiculous was jealousy in the eyes of a society that would + never have believed in the conjugal passion of an old statesman. How + happened it that from the earliest days of his marriage his wife so + fascinated him? Why did he suffer without resistance? How was it that he + dared not resist? Why did he let the years go by and still hope on? By + what means did this young and pretty and clever woman hold him in bondage? + </p> + <p> + The answer to all these questions would require a long history, which + would injure our present tale. Let us only remark here that the constant + toil and grief of the count had unfortunately contributed not a little to + deprive him of personal advantages very necessary to a man who attempts to + struggle against dangerous comparisons. In fact, the most cruel of the + count’s secret sorrows was that of causing repugnance to his wife by a + malady of the skin resulting solely from excessive labor. Kind, and always + considerate of the countess, he allowed her to be mistress of herself and + her home. She received all Paris; she went into the country; she returned + from it precisely as though she were still a widow. He took care of her + fortune and supplied her luxury as a steward might have done. The countess + had the utmost respect for her husband. She even admired his turn of mind; + she knew how to make him happy by approbation; she could do what she + pleased with him by simply going to his study and talking for an hour with + him. Like the great seigneurs of the olden time, the count protected his + wife so loyally that a single word of disrespect said of her would have + been to him an unpardonable injury. The world admired him for this; and + Madame de Serizy owed much to it. Any other woman, even though she came of + a family as distinguished as the Ronquerolles, might have found herself + degraded in public opinion. The countess was ungrateful, but she mingled a + charm with her ingratitude. From time to time she shed a balm upon the + wounds of her husband’s heart. + </p> + <p> + Let us now explain the meaning of this sudden journey, and the incognito + maintained by a minister of State. + </p> + <p> + A rich farmer of Beaumont-sur-Oise, named Leger, leased and cultivated a + farm, the fields of which projected into and greatly injured the + magnificent estate of the Comte de Serizy, called Presles. This farm + belonged to a burgher of Beaumont-sur-Oise, named Margueron. The lease + made to Leger in 1799, at a time when the great advance of agriculture was + not foreseen, was about to expire, and the owner of the farm refused all + offers from Leger to renew the lease. For some time past, Monsieur de + Serizy, wishing to rid himself of the annoyances and petty disputes caused + by the inclosure of these fields within his land, had desired to buy the + farm, having heard that Monsieur Margueron’s chief ambition was to have + his only son, then a mere tax-gatherer, made special collector of finances + at Beaumont. The farmer, who knew he could sell the fields piecemeal to + the count at a high price, was ready to pay Margueron even more than he + expected from the count. + </p> + <p> + Thus matters stood when, two days earlier than that of which we write, + Monsieur de Serizy, anxious to end the matter, sent for his notary, + Alexandre Crottat, and his lawyer, Derville, to examine into all the + circumstances of the affair. Though Derville and Crottat threw some doubt + on the zeal of the count’s steward (a disturbing letter from whom had led + to the consultation), Monsieur de Serizy defended Moreau, who, he said, + had served him faithfully for seventeen years. + </p> + <p> + “Very well!” said Derville, “then I advise your Excellency to go to + Presles yourself, and invite this Margueron to dinner. Crottat will send + his head-clerk with a deed of sale drawn up, leaving only the necessary + lines for description of property and titles in blank. Your Excellency + should take with you part of the purchase money in a check on the Bank of + France, not forgetting the appointment of the son to the collectorship. If + you don’t settle the thing at once that farm will slip through your + fingers. You don’t know, Monsieur le comte, the trickery of these + peasants. Peasants against diplomat, and the diplomat succumbs.” + </p> + <p> + Crottat agreed in this advice, which the count, if we may judge by the + valet’s statements to Pierrotin, had adopted. The preceding evening he had + sent Moreau a line by the diligence to Beaumont, telling him to invite + Margueron to dinner in order that they might then and there close the + purchase of the farm of Moulineaux. + </p> + <p> + Before this matter came up, the count had already ordered the chateau of + Presles to be restored and refurnished, and for the last year, Grindot, an + architect then in fashion, was in the habit of making a weekly visit. So, + while concluding his purchase of the farm, Monsieur de Serizy also + intended to examine the work of restoration and the effect of the new + furniture. He intended all this to be a surprise to his wife when he + brought her to Presles, and with this idea in his mind, he had put some + personal pride and self-love into the work. How came it therefore that the + count, who intended in the evening to drive to Presles openly in his own + carriage, should be starting early the next morning incognito in + Pierrotin’s coucou? + </p> + <p> + Here a few words on the life of the steward Moreau become indispensable. + </p> + <p> + Moreau, steward of the state of Presles, was the son of a provincial + attorney who became during the Revolution syndic-attorney at Versailles. + In that position, Moreau the father had been the means of almost saving + both the lives and property of the Serizys, father and son. Citizen Moreau + belonged to the Danton party; Robespierre, implacable in his hatreds, + pursued him, discovered him, and finally had him executed at Versailles. + Moreau the son, heir to the doctrines and friendships of his father, was + concerned in one of the conspiracies which assailed the First Consul on + his accession to power. At this crisis, Monsieur de Serizy, anxious to pay + his debt of gratitude, enabled Moreau, lying under sentence of death, to + make his escape; in 1804 he asked for his pardon, obtained it, offered him + first a place in his government office, and finally took him as private + secretary for his own affairs. + </p> + <p> + Some time after the marriage of his patron Moreau fell in love with the + countess’s waiting-woman and married her. To avoid the annoyances of the + false position in which this marriage placed him (more than one example of + which could be seen at the imperial court), Moreau asked the count to give + him the management of the Presles estate, where his wife could play the + lady in a country region, and neither of them would be made to suffer from + wounded self-love. The count wanted a trustworthy man at Presles, for his + wife preferred Serizy, an estate only fifteen miles from Paris. For three + or four years Moreau had held the key of the count’s affairs; he was + intelligent, and before the Revolution he had studied law in his father’s + office; so Monsieur de Serizy granted his request. + </p> + <p> + “You can never advance in life,” he said to Moreau, “for you have broken + your neck; but you can be happy, and I will take care that you are so.” + </p> + <p> + He gave Moreau a salary of three thousand francs and his residence in a + charming lodge near the chateau, all the wood he needed from the timber + that was cut on the estate, oats, hay, and straw for two horses, and a + right to whatever he wanted of the produce of the gardens. A sub-prefect + is not as well provided for. + </p> + <p> + During the first eight years of his stewardship, Moreau managed the estate + conscientiously; he took an interest in it. The count, coming down now and + then to examine the property, pass judgment on what had been done, and + decide on new purchases, was struck with Moreau’s evident loyalty, and + showed his satisfaction by liberal gifts. + </p> + <p> + But after the birth of Moreau’s third child, a daughter, he felt himself + so securely settled in all his comforts at Presles that he ceased to + attribute to Monsieur de Serizy those enormous advantages. About the year + 1816, the steward, who until then had only taken what he needed for his + own use from the estate, accepted a sum of twenty-five thousand francs + from a wood-merchant as an inducement to lease to the latter, for twelve + years, the cutting of all the timber. Moreau argued this: he could have no + pension; he was the father of a family; the count really owed him that sum + as a gift after ten years’ management; already the legitimate possessor of + sixty thousand francs in savings, if he added this sum to that, he could + buy a farm worth a hundred and twenty-five thousand francs in Champagne, a + township just above Isle-Adam, on the right bank of the Oise. Political + events prevented both the count and the neighboring country-people from + becoming aware of this investment, which was made in the name of Madame + Moreau, who was understood to have inherited property from an aunt of her + father. + </p> + <p> + As soon as the steward had tasted the delightful fruit of the possession + of the property, he began, all the while maintaining toward the world an + appearance of the utmost integrity, to lose no occasion of increasing his + fortune clandestinely; the interests of his three children served as a + poultice to the wounds of his honor. Nevertheless, we ought in justice to + say that while he accepted casks of wine, and took care of himself in all + the purchases that he made for the count, yet according to the terms of + the Code he remained an honest man, and no proof could have been found to + justify an accusation against him. According to the jurisprudence of the + least thieving cook in Paris, he shared with the count in the profits due + to his own capable management. This manner of swelling his fortune was + simply a case of conscience, that was all. Alert, and thoroughly + understanding the count’s interests, Moreau watched for opportunities to + make good purchases all the more eagerly, because he gained a larger + percentage on them. Presles returned a revenue of seventy thousand francs + net. It was a saying of the country-side for a circuit of thirty miles:— + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur de Serizy has a second self in Moreau.” + </p> + <p> + Being a prudent man, Moreau invested yearly, after 1817, both his profits + and his salary on the Grand Livre, piling up his heap with the utmost + secrecy. He often refused proposals on the plea of want of money; and he + played the poor man so successfully with the count that the latter gave + him the means to send both his sons to the school Henri IV. At the present + moment Moreau was worth one hundred and twenty thousand francs of capital + invested in the Consolidated thirds, now paying five per cent, and quoted + at eighty francs. These carefully hidden one hundred and twenty thousand + francs, and his farm at Champagne, enlarged by subsequent purchases, + amounted to a fortune of about two hundred and eighty thousand francs, + giving him an income of some sixteen thousand. + </p> + <p> + Such was the position of the steward at the time when the Comte de Serizy + desired to purchase the farm of Moulineaux,—the ownership of which + was indispensable to his comfort. This farm consisted of ninety-six + parcels of land bordering the estate of Presles, and frequently running + into it, producing the most annoying discussions as to the trimming of + hedges and ditches and the cutting of trees. Any other than a cabinet + minister would probably have had scores of lawsuits on his hands. Pere + Leger only wished to buy the property in order to sell to the count at a + handsome advance. In order to secure the exorbitant sum on which his mind + was set, the farmer had long endeavored to come to an understanding with + Moreau. Impelled by circumstances, he had, only three days before this + critical Sunday, had a talk with the steward in the open field, and proved + to him clearly that he (Moreau) could make the count invest his money at + two and a half per cent, and thus appear to serve his patron’s interests, + while he himself pocketed forty thousand francs which Leger offered him to + bring about the transaction. + </p> + <p> + “I tell you what,” said the steward to his wife, as he went to bed that + night, “if I make fifty thousand francs out of the Moulineaux affair,—and + I certainly shall, for the count will give me ten thousand as a fee,—we’ll + retire to Isle-Adam and live in the Pavillon de Nogent.” + </p> + <p> + This “pavillon” was a charming place, originally built by the Prince de + Conti for a mistress, and in it every convenience and luxury had been + placed. + </p> + <p> + “That will suit me,” said his wife. “The Dutchman who lives there has put + it in good order, and now that he is obliged to return to India, he would + probably let us have it for thirty thousand francs.” + </p> + <p> + “We shall be close to Champagne,” said Moreau. “I am in hopes of buying + the farm and mill of Mours for a hundred thousand francs. That would give + us ten thousand a year in rentals. Nogent is one of the most delightful + residences in the valley; and we should still have an income of ten + thousand from the Grand-Livre.” + </p> + <p> + “But why don’t you ask for the post of juge-de-paix at Isle-Adam? That + would give us influence, and fifteen hundred a year salary.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I did think of it.” + </p> + <p> + With these plans in mind, Moreau, as soon as he heard from the count that + he was coming to Presles, and wished him to invite Margueron to dinner on + Saturday, sent off an express to the count’s head-valet, inclosing a + letter to his master, which the messenger failed to deliver before + Monsieur de Serizy retired at his usually early hour. Augustin, however, + placed it, according to custom in such cases, on his master’s desk. In + this letter Moreau begged the count not to trouble himself to come down, + but to trust entirely to him. He added that Margueron was no longer + willing to sell the whole in one block, and talked of cutting the farm up + into a number of smaller lots. It was necessary to circumvent this plan, + and perhaps, added Moreau, it might be best to employ a third party to + make the purchase. + </p> + <p> + Everybody has enemies in this life. Now the steward and his wife had + wounded the feelings of a retired army officer, Monsieur de Reybert, and + his wife, who were living near Presles. From speeches like pin-pricks, + matters had advanced to dagger-thrusts. Monsieur de Reybert breathed + vengeance. He was determined to make Moreau lose his situation and gain it + himself. The two ideas were twins. Thus the proceedings of the steward, + spied upon for two years, were no secret to Reybert. The same conveyance + that took Moreau’s letter to the count conveyed Madame de Reybert, whom + her husband despatched to Paris. There she asked with such earnestness to + see the count that although she was sent away at nine o’clock, he having + then gone to bed, she was ushered into his study the next morning at + seven. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur,” she said to the cabinet-minister, “we are incapable, my + husband and I, of writing anonymous letters, therefore I have come to see + you in person. I am Madame de Reybert, nee de Corroy. My husband is a + retired officer, with a pension of six hundred francs, and we live at + Presles, where your steward has offered us insult after insult, although + we are persons of good station. Monsieur de Reybert, who is not an + intriguing man, far from it, is a captain of artillery, retired in 1816, + having served twenty years,—always at a distance from the Emperor, + Monsieur le comte. You know of course how difficult it is for soldiers who + are not under the eye of their master to obtain promotion,—not + counting that the integrity and frankness of Monsieur de Reybert were + displeasing to his superiors. My husband has watched your steward for the + last three years, being aware of his dishonesty and intending to have him + lose his place. We are, as you see, quite frank with you. Moreau has made + us his enemies, and we have watched him. I have come to tell you that you + are being tricked in the purchase of the Moulineaux farm. They mean to get + an extra hundred thousand francs out of you, which are to be divided + between the notary, the farmer Leger, and Moreau. You have written Moreau + to invite Margueron, and you are going to Presles to-day; but Margueron + will be ill, and Leger is so certain of buying the farm that he is now in + Paris to draw the money. If we have enlightened you as to what is going + on, and if you want an upright steward you will take my husband; though + noble, he will serve you as he has served the State. Your steward has made + a fortune of two hundred and fifty thousand francs out of his place; he is + not to be pitied therefore.” + </p> + <p> + The count thanked Madame de Reybert coldly, bestowing upon her the + holy-water of courts, for he despised backbiting; but for all that, he + remembered Derville’s doubts, and felt inwardly shaken. Just then he saw + his steward’s letter and read it. In its assurances of devotion and its + respectful reproaches for the distrust implied in wishing to negotiate the + purchase for himself, he read the truth. + </p> + <p> + “Corruption has come to him with fortune,—as it always does!” he + said to himself. + </p> + <p> + The count then made several inquiries of Madame de Reybert, less to obtain + information than to gain time to observe her; and he wrote a short note to + his notary telling him not to send his head-clerk to Presles as requested, + but to come there himself in time for dinner. + </p> + <p> + “Though Monsieur le comte,” said Madame de Reybert in conclusion, “may + have judged me unfavorably for the step I have taken unknown to my + husband, he ought to be convinced that we have obtained this information + about his steward in a natural and honorable manner; the most sensitive + conscience cannot take exception to it.” + </p> + <p> + So saying, Madame de Reybert, nee de Corroy, stood erect as a pike-staff. + She presented to the rapid investigation of the count a face seamed with + the small-pox like a colander with holes, a flat, spare figure, two light + and eager eyes, fair hair plastered down upon an anxious forehead, a small + drawn-bonnet of faded green taffetas lined with pink, a white gown with + violet spots, and leather shoes. The count recognized the wife of some + poor, half-pay captain, a puritan, subscribing no doubt to the “Courrier + Francais,” earnest in virtue, but aware of the comfort of a good situation + and eagerly coveting it. + </p> + <p> + “You say your husband has a pension of six hundred francs,” he said, + replying to his own thoughts, and not to the remark Madame de Reybert had + just made. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, monsieur.” + </p> + <p> + “You were born a Corroy?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, monsieur,—a noble family of Metz, where my husband belongs.” + </p> + <p> + “In what regiment did Monsieur de Reybert serve?” + </p> + <p> + “The 7th artillery.” + </p> + <p> + “Good!” said the count, writing down the number. + </p> + <p> + He had thought at one time of giving the management of the estate to some + retired army officer, about whom he could obtain exact information from + the minister of war. + </p> + <p> + “Madame,” he resumed, ringing for his valet, “return to Presles, this + afternoon with my notary, who is going down there for dinner, and to whom + I have recommended you. Here is his address. I am going myself secretly to + Presles, and will send for Monsieur de Reybert to come and speak to me.” + </p> + <p> + It will thus be seen that Monsieur de Serizy’s journey by a public + conveyance, and the injunction conveyed by the valet to conceal his name + and rank had not unnecessarily alarmed Pierrotin. That worthy had just + forebodings of a danger which was about to swoop down upon one of his best + customers. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER III. THE TRAVELLERS + </h2> + <p> + As Pierrotin issued from the Cafe de l’Echiquier, after treating the + valet, he saw in the gate-way of the Lion d’Argent the lady and the young + man in whom his perspicacity at once detected customers, for the lady with + outstretched neck and anxious face was evidently looking for him. She was + dressed in a black-silk gown that was dyed, a brown bonnet, an old French + cashmere shawl, raw-silk stockings, and low shoes; and in her hand she + carried a straw bag and a blue umbrella. This woman, who had once been + beautiful, seemed to be about forty years of age; but her blue eyes, + deprived of the fire which happiness puts there, told plainly that she had + long renounced the world. Her dress, as well as her whole air and + demeanor, indicated a mother wholly devoted to her household and her son. + If the strings of her bonnet were faded, the shape betrayed that it was + several years old. The shawl was fastened by a broken needle converted + into a pin by a bead of sealing-wax. She was waiting impatiently for + Pierrotin, wishing to recommend to his special care her son, who was + doubtless travelling for the first time, and with whom she had come to the + coach-office as much from doubt of his ability as from maternal affection. + </p> + <p> + This mother was in every way completed by the son, so that the son would + not be understood without the mother. If the mother condemned herself to + mended gloves, the son wore an olive-green coat with sleeves too short for + him, proving that he had grown, and might grow still more, like other + adults of eighteen or nineteen years of age. The blue trousers, mended by + his mother, presented to the eye a brighter patch of color when the + coat-tails maliciously parted behind him. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t rub your gloves that way, you’ll spoil them,” she was saying as + Pierrotin appeared. “Is this the conductor? Ah! Pierrotin, is it you?” she + exclaimed, leaving her son and taking the coachman apart a few steps. + </p> + <p> + “I hope you’re well, Madame Clapart,” he replied, with an air that + expressed both respect and familiarity. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Pierrotin, very well. Please take good care of my Oscar; he is + travelling alone for the first time.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! so he is going alone to Monsieur Moreau!” cried Pierrotin, for the + purpose of finding out whether he were really going there. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said the mother. + </p> + <p> + “Then Madame Moreau is willing?” returned Pierrotin, with a sly look. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” said the mother, “it will not be all roses for him, poor child! But + his future absolutely requires that I should send him.” + </p> + <p> + This answer struck Pierrotin, who hesitated to confide his fears for the + steward to Madame Clapart, while she, on her part, was afraid of injuring + her boy if she asked Pierrotin for a care which might have transformed him + into a mentor. During this short deliberation, which was ostensibly + covered by a few phrases as to the weather, the journey, and the + stopping-places along the road, we will ourselves explain what were the + ties that united Madame Clapart with Pierrotin, and authorized the two + confidential remarks which they have just exchanged. + </p> + <p> + Often—that is to say, three or four times a month—Pierrotin, + on his way to Paris, would find the steward on the road near La Cave. As + soon as the vehicle came up, Moreau would sign to a gardener, who, with + Pierrotin’s help, would put upon the coach either one or two baskets + containing the fruits and vegetables of the season, chickens, eggs, + butter, and game. The steward always paid the carriage and Pierrotin’s + fee, adding the money necessary to pay the toll at the barriere, if the + baskets contained anything dutiable. These baskets, hampers, or packages, + were never directed to any one. On the first occasion, which served for + all others, the steward had given Madame Clapart’s address by word of + mouth to the discreet Pierrotin, requesting him never to deliver to others + the precious packages. Pierrotin, impressed with the idea of an intrigue + between the steward and some pretty girl, had gone as directed to number 7 + rue de la Cerisaie, in the Arsenal quarter, and had there found the Madame + Clapart just portrayed, instead of the young and beautiful creature he + expected to find. + </p> + <p> + The drivers of public conveyances and carriers are called by their + business to enter many homes, and to be cognizant of many secrets; but + social accident, that sub-providence, having willed that they be without + education and devoid of the talent of observation, it follows that they + are not dangerous. Nevertheless, at the end of a few months, Pierrotin was + puzzled to explain the exact relations of Monsieur Moreau and Madame + Clapart from what he saw of the household in the rue de la Cerisaie. + Though lodgings were not dear at that time in the Arsenal quarter, Madame + Clapart lived on a third floor at the end of a court-yard, in a house + which was formerly that of a great family, in the days when the higher + nobility of the kingdom lived on the ancient site of the Palais des + Tournelles and the hotel Saint-Paul. Toward the end of the sixteenth + century, the great seigneurs divided among themselves these vast spaces, + once occupied by the gardens of the kings of France, as indicated by the + present names of the streets,—Cerisaie, Beautreillis, des Lions, + etc. Madame Clapart’s apartment, which was panelled throughout with + ancient carvings, consisted of three connecting rooms, a dining-room, + salon, and bedroom. Above it was the kitchen, and a bedroom for Oscar. + Opposite to the entrance, on what is called in Paris “le carre,”—that + is, the square landing,—was the door of a back room, opening, on + every floor, into a sort of tower built of rough stone, in which was also + the well for the staircase. This was the room in which Moreau slept + whenever he went to Paris. + </p> + <p> + Pierrotin had seen in the first room, where he deposited the hampers, six + wooden chairs with straw seats, a table, and a sideboard; at the windows, + discolored curtains. Later, when he entered the salon, he noticed some old + Empire furniture, now shabby; but only as much as all proprietors exact to + secure their rent. Pierrotin judged of the bedroom by the salon and + dining-room. The wood-work, painted coarsely of a reddish white, which + thickened and blurred the mouldings and figurines, far from being + ornamental, was distressing to the eye. The floors, never waxed, were of + that gray tone we see in boarding-schools. When Pierrotin came upon + Monsieur and Madame Clapart at their meals he saw that their china, glass, + and all other little articles betrayed the utmost poverty; and yet, though + the chipped and mended dishes and tureens were those of the poorest + families and provoked pity, the forks and spoons were of silver. + </p> + <p> + Monsieur Clapart, clothed in a shabby surtout, his feet in broken + slippers, always wore green spectacles, and exhibited, whenever he removed + his shabby cap of a bygone period, a pointed skull, from the top of which + trailed a few dirty filaments which even a poet could scarcely call hair. + This man, of wan complexion, seemed timorous, but withal tyrannical. + </p> + <p> + In this dreary apartment, which faced the north and had no other outlook + than to a vine on the opposite wall and a well in the corner of the yard, + Madame Clapart bore herself with the airs of a queen, and moved like a + woman unaccustomed to go anywhere on foot. Often, while thanking + Pierrotin, she gave him glances which would have touched to pity an + intelligent observer; from time to time she would slip a twelve-sous piece + into his hand, and then her voice was charming. Pierrotin had never seen + Oscar, for the reason that the boy was always in school at the time his + business took him to the house. + </p> + <p> + Here is the sad story which Pierrotin could never have discovered, even by + asking for information, as he sometimes did, from the portress of the + house; for that individual knew nothing beyond the fact that the Claparts + paid a rent of two hundred and fifty francs a year, had no servant but a + charwoman who came daily for a few hours in the morning, that Madame + Clapart did some of her smaller washing herself, and paid the postage on + her letters daily, being apparently unable to let the sum accumulate. + </p> + <p> + There does not exist, or rather, there seldom exists, a criminal who is + wholly criminal. Neither do we ever meet with a dishonest nature which is + completely dishonest. It is possible for a man to cheat his master to his + own advantage, or rake in for himself alone all the hay in the manger, + but, even while laying up capital by actions more or less illicit, there + are few men who never do good ones. If only from self-love, curiosity, or + by way of variety, or by chance, every man has his moment of beneficence; + he may call it his error, he may never do it again, but he sacrifices to + Goodness, as the most surly man sacrifices to the Graces once or twice in + his life. If Moreau’s faults can ever be excused, it might be on the score + of his persistent kindness in succoring a woman of whose favors he had + once been proud, and in whose house he was hidden when in peril of his + life. + </p> + <p> + This woman, celebrated under the Directory for her liaison with one of the + five kings of that reign, married, through that all-powerful protection, a + purveyor who was making his millions out of the government, and whom + Napoleon ruined in 1802. This man, named Husson, became insane through his + sudden fall from opulence to poverty; he flung himself into the Seine, + leaving the beautiful Madame Husson pregnant. Moreau, very intimately + allied with Madame Husson, was at that time condemned to death; he was + unable therefore to marry the widow, being forced to leave France. Madame + Husson, then twenty-two years old, married in her deep distress a + government clerk named Clapart, aged twenty-seven, who was said to be a + rising man. At that period of our history, government clerks were apt to + become persons of importance; for Napoleon was ever on the lookout for + capacity. But Clapart, though endowed by nature with a certain coarse + beauty, proved to have no intelligence. Thinking Madame Husson very rich, + he feigned a great passion for her, and was simply saddled with the + impossibility of satisfying either then or in the future the wants she had + acquired in a life of opulence. He filled, very poorly, a place in the + Treasury that gave him a salary of eighteen hundred francs; which was all + the new household had to live on. When Moreau returned to France as the + secretary of the Comte de Serizy he heard of Madame Husson’s pitiable + condition, and he was able, before his own marriage, to get her an + appointment as head-waiting-woman to Madame Mere, the Emperor’s mother. + But in spite of that powerful protection Clapart was never promoted; his + incapacity was too apparent. + </p> + <p> + Ruined in 1815 by the fall of the Empire, the brilliant Aspasia of the + Directory had no other resources than Clapart’s salary of twelve hundred + francs from a clerkship obtained for him through the Comte de Serizy. + Moreau, the only protector of a woman whom he had known in possession of + millions, obtained a half-scholarship for her son, Oscar Husson, at the + school of Henri IV.; and he sent her regularly, by Pierrotin, such + supplies from the estate at Presles as he could decently offer to a + household in distress. + </p> + <p> + Oscar was the whole life and all the future of his mother. The poor woman + could now be reproached with no other fault than her exaggerated + tenderness for her boy,—the bete-noire of his step-father. Oscar + was, unfortunately, endowed by nature with a foolishness his mother did + not perceive, in spite of the step-father’s sarcasms. This foolishness—or, + to speak more specifically, this overweening conceit—so troubled + Monsieur Moreau that he begged Madame Clapart to send the boy down to him + for a month that he might study his character, and find out what career he + was fit for. Moreau was really thinking of some day proposing Oscar to the + count as his successor. + </p> + <p> + But to give to the devil and to God what respectively belongs to them, + perhaps it would be well to show the causes of Oscar Husson’s silly + self-conceit, premising that he was born in the household of Madame Mere. + During his early childhood his eyes were dazzled by imperial splendors. + His pliant imagination retained the impression of those gorgeous scenes, + and nursed the images of a golden time of pleasure in hopes of recovering + them. The natural boastfulness of school-boys (possessed of a desire to + outshine their mates) resting on these memories of his childhood was + developed in him beyond all measure. It may also have been that his mother + at home dwelt too fondly on the days when she herself was a queen in + Directorial Paris. At any rate, Oscar, who was now leaving school, had + been made to bear many humiliations which the paying pupils put upon those + who hold scholarships, unless the scholars are able to impose respect by + superior physical ability. + </p> + <p> + This mixture of former splendor now departed, of beauty gone, of blind + maternal love, of sufferings heroically borne, made the mother one of + those pathetic figures which catch the eye of many an observer in Paris. + </p> + <p> + Incapable, naturally, of understanding the real attachment of Moreau to + this woman, or that of the woman for the man she had saved in 1797, now + her only friend, Pierrotin did not think it best to communicate the + suspicion that had entered his head as to some danger which was + threatening Moreau. The valet’s speech, “We have enough to do in this + world to look after ourselves,” returned to his mind, and with it came + that sentiment of obedience to what he called the “chefs de file,”—the + front-rank men in war, and men of rank in peace. Besides, just now + Pierrotin’s head was as full of his own stings as there are five-franc + pieces in a thousand francs. So that the “Very good, madame,” “Certainly, + madame,” with which he replied to the poor mother, to whom a trip of + twenty miles appeared a journey, showed plainly that he desired to get + away from her useless and prolix instructions. + </p> + <p> + “You will be sure to place the packages so that they cannot get wet if the + weather should happen to change.” + </p> + <p> + “I’ve a hood,” replied Pierrotin. “Besides, see, madame, with what care + they are being placed.” + </p> + <p> + “Oscar, don’t stay more than two weeks, no matter how much they may ask + you,” continued Madame Clapart, returning to her son. “You can’t please + Madame Moreau, whatever you do; besides, you must be home by the end of + September. We are to go to Belleville, you know, to your uncle Cardot.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, mamma.” + </p> + <p> + “Above all,” she said, in a low voice, “be sure never to speak about + servants; keep thinking all the time that Madame Moreau was once a + waiting-maid.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, mamma.” + </p> + <p> + Oscar, like all youths whose vanity is excessively ticklish, seemed + annoyed at being lectured on the threshold of the Lion d’Argent. + </p> + <p> + “Well, now good-bye, mamma. We shall start soon; there’s the horse all + harnessed.” + </p> + <p> + The mother, forgetting that she was in the open street, embraced her + Oscar, and said, smiling, as she took a little roll from her basket:— + </p> + <p> + “Tiens! you were forgetting your roll and the chocolate! My child, once + more, I repeat, don’t take anything at the inns; they’d make you pay for + the slightest thing ten times what it is worth.” + </p> + <p> + Oscar would fain have seen his mother farther off as she stuffed the bread + and chocolate into his pocket. The scene had two witnesses,—two + young men a few years older than Oscar, better dressed than he, without a + mother hanging on to them, whose actions, dress, and ways all betokened + that complete independence which is the one desire of a lad still tied to + his mother’s apron-strings. + </p> + <p> + “He said <i>mamma</i>!” cried one of the new-comers, laughing. + </p> + <p> + The words reached Oscar’s ears and drove him to say, “Good-bye, mother!” + in a tone of terrible impatience. + </p> + <p> + Let us admit that Madame Clapart spoke too loudly, and seemed to wish to + show to those around them her tenderness for the boy. + </p> + <p> + “What is the matter with you, Oscar?” asked the poor hurt woman. “I don’t + know what to make of you,” she added in a severe tone, fancying herself + able to inspire him with respect,—a great mistake made by those who + spoil their children. “Listen, my Oscar,” she said, resuming at once her + tender voice, “you have a propensity to talk, and to tell all you know, + and all that you don’t know; and you do it to show off, with the foolish + vanity of a mere lad. Now, I repeat, endeavor to keep your tongue in + check. You are not sufficiently advanced in life, my treasure, to be able + to judge of the persons with whom you may be thrown; and there is nothing + more dangerous than to talk in public conveyances. Besides, in a diligence + well-bred persons always keep silence.” + </p> + <p> + The two young men, who seemed to have walked to the farther end of the + establishment, here returned, making their boot-heels tap upon the paved + passage of the porte-cochere. They might have heard the whole of this + maternal homily. So, in order to rid himself of his mother, Oscar had + recourse to an heroic measure, which proved how vanity stimulates the + intellect. + </p> + <p> + “Mamma,” he said, “you are standing in a draught, and you may take cold. + Besides, I am going to get into the coach.” + </p> + <p> + The lad must have touched some tender spot, for his mother caught him to + her bosom, kissed him as if he were starting upon a long journey, and went + with him to the vehicle with tears in her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t forget to give five francs to the servants when you come away,” she + said; “write me three times at least during the fifteen days; behave + properly, and remember all that I have told you. You have linen enough; + don’t send any to the wash. And above all, remember Monsieur Moreau’s + kindness; mind him as you would a father, and follow his advice.” + </p> + <p> + As he got into the coach, Oscar’s blue woollen stockings became visible, + through the action of his trousers which drew up suddenly, also the new + patch in the said trousers was seen, through the parting of his + coat-tails. The smiles of the two young men, on whom these signs of an + honorable indigence were not lost, were so many fresh wounds to the lad’s + vanity. + </p> + <p> + “The first place was engaged for Oscar,” said the mother to Pierrotin. + “Take the back seat,” she said to the boy, looking fondly at him with a + loving smile. + </p> + <p> + Oh! how Oscar regretted that trouble and sorrow had destroyed his mother’s + beauty, and that poverty and self-sacrifice prevented her from being + better dressed! One of the young men, the one who wore top-boots and + spurs, nudged the other to make him take notice of Oscar’s mother, and the + other twirled his moustache with a gesture which signified,— + </p> + <p> + “Rather pretty figure!” + </p> + <p> + “How shall I ever get rid of mamma?” thought Oscar. + </p> + <p> + “What’s the matter?” asked Madame Clapart. + </p> + <p> + Oscar pretended not to hear, the monster! Perhaps Madame Clapart was + lacking in tact under the circumstances; but all absorbing sentiments have + so much egotism! + </p> + <p> + “Georges, do you like children when travelling?” asked one young man of + the other. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, my good Amaury, if they are weaned, and are named Oscar, and have + chocolate.” + </p> + <p> + These speeches were uttered in half-tones to allow Oscar to hear them or + not hear them as he chose; his countenance was to be the weather-gauge by + which the other young traveller could judge how much fun he might be able + to get out of the lad during the journey. Oscar chose not to hear. He + looked to see if his mother, who weighed upon him like a nightmare, was + still there, for he felt that she loved him too well to leave him so + quickly. Not only did he involuntarily compare the dress of his travelling + companion with his own, but he felt that his mother’s toilet counted for + much in the smiles of the two young men. + </p> + <p> + “If they would only take themselves off!” he said to himself. + </p> + <p> + Instead of that, Amaury remarked to Georges, giving a tap with his cane to + the heavy wheel of the coucou: + </p> + <p> + “And so, my friend, you are really going to trust your future to this + fragile bark?” + </p> + <p> + “I must,” replied Georges, in a tone of fatalism. + </p> + <p> + Oscar gave a sigh as he remarked the jaunty manner in which his + companion’s hat was stuck on one ear for the purpose of showing a + magnificent head of blond hair beautifully brushed and curled; while he, + by order of his step-father, had his black hair cut like a clothes-brush + across the forehead, and clipped, like a soldier’s, close to the head. The + face of the vain lad was round and chubby and bright with the hues of + health, while that of his fellow-traveller was long, and delicate, and + pale. The forehead of the latter was broad, and his chest filled out a + waistcoat of cashmere pattern. As Oscar admired the tight-fitting + iron-gray trousers and the overcoat with its frogs and olives clasping the + waist, it seemed to him that this romantic-looking stranger, gifted with + such advantages, insulted him by his superiority, just as an ugly woman + feels injured by the mere sight of a pretty one. The click of the + stranger’s boot-heels offended his taste and echoed in his heart. He felt + as hampered by his own clothes (made no doubt at home out of those of his + step-father) as that envied young man seemed at ease in his. + </p> + <p> + “That fellow must have heaps of francs in his trousers pocket,” thought + Oscar. + </p> + <p> + The young man turned round. What were Oscar’s feelings on beholding a gold + chain round his neck, at the end of which no doubt was a gold watch! From + that moment the young man assumed, in Oscar’s eyes, the proportions of a + personage. + </p> + <p> + Living in the rue de la Cerisaie since 1815, taken to and from school by + his step-father, Oscar had no other points of comparison since his + adolescence than the poverty-stricken household of his mother. Brought up + strictly, by Moreau’s advice, he seldom went to the theatre, and then to + nothing better than the Ambigu-Comique, where his eyes could see little + elegance, if indeed the eyes of a child riveted on a melodrama were likely + to examine the audience. His step-father still wore, after the fashion of + the Empire, his watch in the fob of his trousers, from which there + depended over his abdomen a heavy gold chain, ending in a bunch of + heterogeneous ornaments, seals, and a watch-key with a round top and flat + sides, on which was a landscape in mosaic. Oscar, who considered that + old-fashioned finery as the “ne plus ultra” of adornment, was bewildered + by the present revelation of superior and negligent elegance. The young + man exhibited, offensively, a pair of spotless gloves, and seemed to wish + to dazzle Oscar by twirling with much grace a gold-headed switch cane. + </p> + <p> + Oscar had reached that last quarter of adolescence when little things + cause immense joys and immense miseries,—a period when youth prefers + misfortune to a ridiculous suit of clothes, and caring nothing for the + real interests of life, torments itself about frivolities, about + neckcloths, and the passionate desire to appear a man. Then the young + fellow swells himself out; his swagger is all the more portentous because + it is exercised on nothings. Yet if he envies a fool who is elegantly + dressed, he is also capable of enthusiasm over talent, and of genuine + admiration for genius. Such defects as these, when they have no root in + the heart, prove only the exuberance of sap,—the richness of the + youthful imagination. That a lad of nineteen, an only child, kept severely + at home by poverty, adored by a mother who put upon herself all privations + for his sake, should be moved to envy by a young man of twenty-two in a + frogged surtout-coat silk-lined, a waist-coat of fancy cashmere, and a + cravat slipped through a ring of the worse taste, is nothing more than a + peccadillo committed in all ranks of social life by inferiors who envy + those that seem beyond them. Men of genius themselves succumb to this + primitive passion. Did not Rousseau admire Ventura and Bacle? + </p> + <p> + But Oscar passed from peccadillo to evil feelings. He felt humiliated; he + was angry with the youth he envied, and there rose in his heart a secret + desire to show openly that he himself was as good as the object of his + envy. + </p> + <p> + The two young fellows continued to walk up and own from the gate to the + stables, and from the stables to the gate. Each time they turned they + looked at Oscar curled up in his corner of the coucou. Oscar, persuaded + that their jokes and laughter concerned himself, affected the utmost + indifference. He began to hum the chorus of a song lately brought into + vogue by the liberals, which ended with the words, “‘Tis Voltaire’s fault, + ‘tis Rousseau’s fault.” + </p> + <p> + “Tiens! perhaps he is one of the chorus at the Opera,” said Amaury. + </p> + <p> + This exasperated Oscar, who bounded up, pulled out the wooden “back,” and + called to Pierrotin:— + </p> + <p> + “When do we start?” + </p> + <p> + “Presently,” said that functionary, who was standing, whip in hand, and + gazing toward the rue d’Enghien. + </p> + <p> + At this moment the scene was enlivened by the arrival of a young man + accompanied by a true “gamin,” who was followed by a porter dragging a + hand-cart. The young man came up to Pierrotin and spoke to him + confidentially, on which the latter nodded his head, and called to his own + porter. The man ran out and helped to unload the little hand-cart, which + contained, besides two trunks, buckets, brushes, boxes of singular shape, + and an infinity of packages and utensils which the youngest of the + new-comers, who had climbed into the imperial, stowed away with such + celerity that Oscar, who happened to be smiling at his mother, now + standing on the other side of the street, saw none of the paraphernalia + which might have revealed to him the profession of his new travelling + companion. + </p> + <p> + The gamin, who must have been sixteen years of age, wore a gray blouse + buckled round his waist by a polished leather belt. His cap, jauntily + perched on the side of his head, seemed the sign of a merry nature, and so + did the picturesque disorder of the curly brown hair which fell upon his + shoulders. A black-silk cravat drew a line round his very white neck, and + added to the vivacity of his bright gray eyes. The animation of his brown + and rosy face, the moulding of his rather large lips, the ears detached + from his head, his slightly turned-up nose,—in fact, all the details + of his face proclaimed the lively spirit of a Figaro, and the careless + gayety of youth, while the vivacity of his gesture and his mocking eye + revealed an intellect already developed by the practice of a profession + adopted very early in life. As he had already some claims to personal + value, this child, made man by Art or by vocation, seemed indifferent to + the question of costume; for he looked at his boots, which had not been + polished, with a quizzical air, and searched for the spots on his brown + Holland trousers less to remove them than to see their effect. + </p> + <p> + “I’m in style,” he said, giving himself a shake and addressing his + companion. + </p> + <p> + The glance of the latter, showed authority over his adept, in whom a + practised eye would at once have recognized the joyous pupil of a painter, + called in the argot of the studios a “rapin.” + </p> + <p> + “Behave yourself, Mistigris,” said his master, giving him the nickname + which the studio had no doubt bestowed upon him. + </p> + <p> + The master was a slight and pale young man, with extremely thick black + hair, worn in a disorder that was actually fantastic. But this abundant + mass of hair seemed necessary to an enormous head, whose vast forehead + proclaimed a precocious intellect. A strained and harassed face, too + original to be ugly, was hollowed as if this noticeable young man suffered + from some chronic malady, or from privations caused by poverty (the most + terrible of all chronic maladies), or from griefs too recent to be + forgotten. His clothing, analogous, with due allowance, to that of + Mistigris, consisted of a shabby surtout coat, American-green in color, + much worn, but clean and well-brushed; a black waistcoat buttoned to the + throat, which almost concealed a scarlet neckerchief; and trousers, also + black and even more worn than the coat, flapping his thin legs. In + addition, a pair of very muddy boots indicated that he had come on foot + and from some distance to the coach office. With a rapid look this artist + seized the whole scene of the Lion d’Argent, the stables, the courtyard, + the various lights and shades, and the details; then he looked at + Mistigris, whose satirical glance had followed his own. + </p> + <p> + “Charming!” said Mistigris. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, very,” replied the other. + </p> + <p> + “We seem to have got here too early,” pursued Mistigris. “Couldn’t we get + a mouthful somewhere? My stomach, like Nature, abhors a vacuum.” + </p> + <p> + “Have we time to get a cup of coffee?” said the artist, in a gentle voice, + to Pierrotin. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but don’t be long,” answered the latter. + </p> + <p> + “Good; that means we have a quarter of an hour,” remarked Mistigris, with + the innate genius for observation of the Paris rapin. + </p> + <p> + The pair disappeared. Nine o’clock was striking in the hotel kitchen. + Georges thought it just and reasonable to remonstrate with Pierrotin. + </p> + <p> + “Hey! my friend; when a man is blessed with such wheels as these (striking + the clumsy tires with his cane) he ought at least to have the merit of + punctuality. The deuce! one doesn’t get into that thing for pleasure; I + have business that is devilishly pressing or I wouldn’t trust my bones to + it. And that horse, which you call Rougeot, he doesn’t look likely to make + up for lost time.” + </p> + <p> + “We are going to harness Bichette while those gentlemen take their + coffee,” replied Pierrotin. “Go and ask, you,” he said to his porter, “if + Pere Leger is coming with us—” + </p> + <p> + “Where is your Pere Leger?” asked Georges. + </p> + <p> + “Over the way, at number 50. He couldn’t get a place in the Beaumont + diligence,” said Pierrotin, still speaking to his porter and apparently + making no answer to his customer; then he disappeared himself in search of + Bichette. + </p> + <p> + Georges, after shaking hands with his friend, got into the coach, handling + with an air of great importance a portfolio which he placed beneath the + cushion of the seat. He took the opposite corner to that of Oscar, on the + same seat. + </p> + <p> + “This Pere Leger troubles me,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “They can’t take away our places,” replied Oscar. “I have number one.” + </p> + <p> + “And I number two,” said Georges. + </p> + <p> + Just as Pierrotin reappeared, having harnessed Bichette, the porter + returned with a stout man in tow, whose weight could not have been less + than two hundred and fifty pounds at the very least. Pere Leger belonged + to the species of farmer which has a square back, a protuberant stomach, a + powdered pigtail, and wears a little coat of blue linen. His white + gaiters, coming above the knee, were fastened round the ends of his + velveteen breeches and secured by silver buckles. His hob-nailed shoes + weighed two pounds each. In his hand, he held a small reddish stick, much + polished, with a large knob, which was fastened round his wrist by a thong + of leather. + </p> + <p> + “And you are called Pere Leger?” asked Georges, very seriously, as the + farmer attempted to put a foot on the step. + </p> + <p> + “At your service,” replied the farmer, looking in and showing a face like + that of Louis XVIII., with fat, rubicund cheeks, from between which issued + a nose that in any other face would have seemed enormous. His smiling eyes + were sunken in rolls of fat. “Come, a helping hand, my lad!” he said to + Pierrotin. + </p> + <p> + The farmer was hoisted in by the united efforts of Pierrotin and the + porter, to cries of “Houp la! hi! ha! hoist!” uttered by Georges. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! I’m not going far; only to La Cave,” said the farmer, good-humoredly. + </p> + <p> + In France everybody takes a joke. + </p> + <p> + “Take the back seat,” said Pierrotin, “there’ll be six of you.” + </p> + <p> + “Where’s your other horse?” demanded Georges. “Is it as mythical as the + third post-horse.” + </p> + <p> + “There she is,” said Pierrotin, pointing to the little mare, who was + coming along alone. + </p> + <p> + “He calls that insect a horse!” exclaimed Georges. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! she’s good, that little mare,” said the farmer, who by this time was + seated. “Your servant, gentlemen. Well, Pierrotin, how soon do you start?” + </p> + <p> + “I have two travellers in there after a cup of coffee,” replied Pierrotin. + </p> + <p> + The hollow-cheeked young man and his page reappeared. + </p> + <p> + “Come, let’s start!” was the general cry. + </p> + <p> + “We are going to start,” replied Pierrotin. “Now, then, make ready,” he + said to the porter, who began thereupon to take away the stones which + stopped the wheels. + </p> + <p> + Pierrotin took Rougeot by the bridle and gave that guttural cry, “Ket, + ket!” to tell the two animals to collect their energy; on which, though + evidently stiff, they pulled the coach to the door of the Lion d’Argent. + After which manoeuvre, which was purely preparatory, Pierrotin gazed up + the rue d’Enghien and then disappeared, leaving the coach in charge of the + porter. + </p> + <p> + “Ah ca! is he subject to such attacks,—that master of yours?” said + Mistigris, addressing the porter. + </p> + <p> + “He has gone to fetch his feed from the stable,” replied the porter, well + versed in all the usual tricks to keep passengers quiet. + </p> + <p> + “Well, after all,” said Mistigris, “‘art is long, but life is short’—to + Bichette.” + </p> + <p> + At this particular epoch, a fancy for mutilating or transposing proverbs + reigned in the studios. It was thought a triumph to find changes of + letters, and sometimes of words, which still kept the semblance of the + proverb while giving it a fantastic or ridiculous meaning.[*] + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [*] It is plainly impossible to translate many of these proverbs + and put any fun or meaning into them.—Tr. +</pre> + <p> + “Patience, Mistigris!” said his master; “‘come wheel, come whoa.’” + </p> + <p> + Pierrotin here returned, bringing with him the Comte de Serizy, who had + come through the rue de l’Echiquier, and with whom he had doubtless had a + short conversation. + </p> + <p> + “Pere Leger,” said Pierrotin, looking into the coach, “will you give your + place to Monsieur le comte? That will balance the carriage better.” + </p> + <p> + “We sha’n’t be off for an hour if you go on this way,” cried Georges. “We + shall have to take down this infernal bar, which cost such trouble to put + up. Why should everybody be made to move for the man who comes last? We + all have a right to the places we took. What place has monsieur engaged? + Come, find that out! Haven’t you a way-book, a register, or something? + What place has Monsieur Lecomte engaged?—count of what, I’d like to + know.” + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur le comte,” said Pierrotin, visibly troubled, “I am afraid you + will be uncomfortable.” + </p> + <p> + “Why didn’t you keep better count of us?” said Mistigris. “‘Short counts + make good ends.’” + </p> + <p> + “Mistigris, behave yourself,” said his master. + </p> + <p> + Monsieur de Serizy was evidently taken by all the persons in the coach for + a bourgeois of the name of Lecomte. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t disturb any one,” he said to Pierrotin. “I will sit with you in + front.” + </p> + <p> + “Come, Mistigris,” said the master to his rapin, “remember the respect you + owe to age; you don’t know how shockingly old you may be yourself some + day. ‘Travel deforms youth.’ Give your place to monsieur.” + </p> + <p> + Mistigris opened the leathern curtain and jumped out with the agility of a + frog leaping into the water. + </p> + <p> + “You mustn’t be a rabbit, august old man,” he said to the count. + </p> + <p> + “Mistigris, ‘ars est celare bonum,’” said his master. + </p> + <p> + “I thank you very much, monsieur,” said the count to Mistigris’s master, + next to whom he now sat. + </p> + <p> + The minister of State cast a sagacious glance round the interior of the + coach, which greatly affronted both Oscar and Georges. + </p> + <p> + “When persons want to be master of a coach, they should engage all the + places,” remarked Georges. + </p> + <p> + Certain now of his incognito, the Comte de Serizy made no reply to this + observation, but assumed the air of a good-natured bourgeois. + </p> + <p> + “Suppose you were late, wouldn’t you be glad that the coach waited for + you?” said the farmer to the two young men. + </p> + <p> + Pierrotin still looked up and down the street, whip in hand, apparently + reluctant to mount to the hard seat where Mistigris was fidgeting. + </p> + <p> + “If you expect some one else, I am not the last,” said the count. + </p> + <p> + “I agree to that reasoning,” said Mistigris. + </p> + <p> + Georges and Oscar began to laugh impertinently. + </p> + <p> + “The old fellow doesn’t know much,” whispered Georges to Oscar, who was + delighted at this apparent union between himself and the object of his + envy. + </p> + <p> + “Parbleu!” cried Pierrotin, “I shouldn’t be sorry for two more + passengers.” + </p> + <p> + “I haven’t paid; I’ll get out,” said Georges, alarmed. + </p> + <p> + “What are you waiting for, Pierrotin?” asked Pere Leger. + </p> + <p> + Whereupon Pierrotin shouted a certain “Hi!” in which Bichette and Rougeot + recognized a definitive resolution, and they both sprang toward the rise + of the faubourg at a pace which was soon to slacken. + </p> + <p> + The count had a red face, of a burning red all over, on which were certain + inflamed portions which his snow-white hair brought out into full relief. + To any but heedless youths, this complexion would have revealed a constant + inflammation of the blood, produced by incessant labor. These blotches and + pimples so injured the naturally noble air of the count that careful + examination was needed to find in his green-gray eyes the shrewdness of + the magistrate, the wisdom of a statesman, and the knowledge of a + legislator. His face was flat, and the nose seemed to have been depressed + into it. The hat hid the grace and beauty of his forehead. In short, there + was enough to amuse those thoughtless youths in the odd contrasts of the + silvery hair, the burning face, and the thick, tufted eye-brows which were + still jet-black. + </p> + <p> + The count wore a long blue overcoat, buttoned in military fashion to the + throat, a white cravat around his neck, cotton wool in his ears, and a + shirt-collar high enough to make a large square patch of white on each + cheek. His black trousers covered his boots, the toes of which were barely + seen. He wore no decoration in his button-hole, and doeskin gloves + concealed his hands. Nothing about him betrayed to the eyes of youth a + peer of France, and one of the most useful statesmen in the kingdom. + </p> + <p> + Pere Leger had never seen the count, who, on his side, knew the former + only by name. When the count, as he got into the carriage, cast the glance + about him which affronted Georges and Oscar, he was, in reality, looking + for the head-clerk of his notary (in case he had been forced, like + himself, to take Pierrotin’s vehicle), intending to caution him instantly + about his own incognito. But feeling reassured by the appearance of Oscar, + and that of Pere Leger, and, above all, by the quasi-military air, the + waxed moustaches, and the general look of an adventurer that distinguished + Georges, he concluded that his note had reached his notary, Alexandre + Crottat, in time to prevent the departure of the clerk. + </p> + <p> + “Pere Leger,” said Pierrotin, when they reached the steep hill of the + faubourg Saint-Denis by the rue de la Fidelite, “suppose we get out, hey?” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll get out, too,” said the count, hearing Leger’s name. + </p> + <p> + “Goodness! if this is how we are going, we shall do fourteen miles in + fifteen days!” cried Georges. + </p> + <p> + “It isn’t my fault,” said Pierrotin, “if a passenger wishes to get out.” + </p> + <p> + “Ten louis for you if you keep the secret of my being here as I told you + before,” said the count in a low voice, taking Pierrotin by the arm. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my thousand francs!” thought Pierrotin as he winked an eye at + Monsieur de Serizy, which meant, “Rely on me.” + </p> + <p> + Oscar and Georges stayed in the coach. + </p> + <p> + “Look here, Pierrotin, since Pierrotin you are,” cried Georges, when the + passengers were once more stowed away in the vehicle, “if you don’t mean + to go faster than this, say so! I’ll pay my fare and take a post-horse at + Saint-Denis, for I have important business on hand which can’t be + delayed.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! he’ll go well enough,” said Pere Leger. “Besides, the distance isn’t + great.” + </p> + <p> + “I am never more than half an hour late,” asserted Pierrotin. + </p> + <p> + “Well, you are not wheeling the Pope in this old barrow of yours,” said + Georges, “so, get on.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps he’s afraid of shaking monsieur,” said Mistigris looking round at + the count. “But you shouldn’t have preferences, Pierrotin, it isn’t + right.” + </p> + <p> + “Coucous and the Charter make all Frenchmen equals,” said Georges. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! be easy,” said Pere Leger; “we are sure to get to La Chapelle by + mid-day,”—La Chapelle being the village next beyond the Barriere of + Saint-Denis. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IV. THE GRANDSON OF THE FAMOUS CZERNI-GEORGES + </h2> + <p> + Those who travel in public conveyances know that the persons thus united + by chance do not immediately have anything to say to one another; unless + under special circumstances, conversation rarely begins until they have + gone some distance. This period of silence is employed as much in mutual + examination as in settling into their places. Minds need to get their + equilibrium as much as bodies. When each person thinks he has discovered + the age, profession, and character of his companions, the most talkative + member of the company begins, and the conversation gets under way with all + the more vivacity because those present feel a need of enlivening the + journey and forgetting its tedium. + </p> + <p> + That is how things happen in French stage-coaches. In other countries + customs are very different. Englishmen pique themselves on never opening + their lips; Germans are melancholy in a vehicle; Italians too wary to + talk; Spaniards have no public conveyances; and Russians no roads. There + is no amusement except in the lumbering diligences of France, that + gabbling and indiscreet country, where every one is in a hurry to laugh + and show his wit, and where jest and epigram enliven all things, even the + poverty of the lower classes and the weightier cares of the solid + bourgeois. In a coach there is no police to check tongues, and legislative + assemblies have set the fashion of public discussion. When a young man of + twenty-two, like the one named Georges, is clever and lively, he is much + tempted, especially under circumstances like the present, to abuse those + qualities. + </p> + <p> + In the first place, Georges had soon decided that he was the superior + human being of the party there assembled. He saw in the count a + manufacturer of the second-class, whom he took, for some unknown reason, + to be a chandler; in the shabby young man accompanied by Mistigris, a + fellow of no account; in Oscar a ninny, and in Pere Leger, the fat farmer, + an excellent subject to hoax. Having thus looked over the ground, he + resolved to amuse himself at the expense of such companions. + </p> + <p> + “Let me see,” he thought to himself, as the coucou went down the hill from + La Chapelle to the plain of Saint-Denis, “shall I pass myself off for + Etienne or Beranger? No, these idiots don’t know who they are. Carbonaro? + the deuce! I might get myself arrested. Suppose I say I’m the son of + Marshal Ney? Pooh! what could I tell them?—about the execution of my + father? It wouldn’t be funny. Better be a disguised Russian prince and + make them swallow a lot of stuff about the Emperor Alexander. Or I might + be Cousin, and talk philosophy; oh, couldn’t I perplex ‘em! But no, that + shabby fellow with the tousled head looks to me as if he had jogged his + way through the Sorbonne. What a pity! I can mimic an Englishman so + perfectly I might have pretended to be Lord Byron, travelling incognito. + Sapristi! I’ll command the troops of Ali, pacha of Janina!” + </p> + <p> + During this mental monologue, the coucou rolled through clouds of dust + rising on either side of it from that much travelled road. + </p> + <p> + “What dust!” cried Mistigris. + </p> + <p> + “Henry IV. is dead!” retorted his master. “If you’d say it was scented + with vanilla that would be emitting a new opinion.” + </p> + <p> + “You think you’re witty,” replied Mistigris. “Well, it <i>is</i> like + vanilla at times.” + </p> + <p> + “In the Levant—” said Georges, with the air of beginning a story. + </p> + <p> + “‘Ex Oriente flux,’” remarked Mistigris’s master, interrupting the + speaker. + </p> + <p> + “I said in the Levant, from which I have just returned,” continued + Georges, “the dust smells very good; but here it smells of nothing, except + in some old dust-barrel like this.” + </p> + <p> + “Has monsieur lately returned from the Levant?” said Mistigris, + maliciously. “He isn’t much tanned by the sun.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! I’ve just left my bed after an illness of three months, from the + germ, so the doctors said, of suppressed plague.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you had the plague?” cried the count, with a gesture of alarm. + “Pierrotin, stop!” + </p> + <p> + “Go on, Pierrotin,” said Mistigris. “Didn’t you hear him say it was + inward, his plague?” added the rapin, talking back to Monsieur de Serizy. + “It isn’t catching; it only comes out in conversation.” + </p> + <p> + “Mistigris! if you interfere again I’ll have you put off into the road,” + said his master. “And so,” he added, turning to Georges, “monsieur has + been to the East?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, monsieur; first to Egypt, then to Greece, where I served under Ali, + pacha of Janina, with whom I had a terrible quarrel. There’s no enduring + those climates long; besides, the emotions of all kinds in Oriental life + have disorganized my liver.” + </p> + <p> + “What, have you served as a soldier?” asked the fat farmer. “How old are + you?” + </p> + <p> + “Twenty-nine,” replied Georges, whereupon all the passengers looked at + him. “At eighteen I enlisted as a private for the famous campaign of 1813; + but I was present at only one battle, that of Hanau, where I was promoted + sergeant-major. In France, at Montereau, I won the rank of sub-lieutenant, + and was decorated by,—there are no informers here, I’m sure,—by + the Emperor.” + </p> + <p> + “What! are you decorated?” cried Oscar. “Why don’t you wear your cross?” + </p> + <p> + “The cross of ‘ceux-ci’? No, thank you! Besides, what man of any breeding + would wear his decorations in travelling? There’s monsieur,” he said, + motioning to the Comte de Serizy. “I’ll bet whatever you like—” + </p> + <p> + “Betting whatever you like means, in France, betting nothing at all,” said + Mistigris’s master. + </p> + <p> + “I’ll bet whatever you like,” repeated Georges, incisively, “that monsieur + here is covered with stars.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said the count, laughing, “I have the grand cross of the Legion of + honor, that of Saint Andrew of Russia, that of the Prussian Eagle, that of + the Annunciation of Sardinia, and the Golden Fleece.” + </p> + <p> + “Beg pardon,” said Mistigris, “are they all in the coucou?” + </p> + <p> + “Hey! that brick-colored old fellow goes it strong!” whispered Georges to + Oscar. “What was I saying?—oh! I know. I don’t deny that I adore the + Emperor—” + </p> + <p> + “I served under him,” said the count. + </p> + <p> + “What a man he was, wasn’t he?” cried Georges. + </p> + <p> + “A man to whom I owe many obligations,” replied the count, with a silly + expression that was admirably assumed. + </p> + <p> + “For all those crosses?” inquired Mistigris. + </p> + <p> + “And what quantities of snuff he took!” continued Monsieur de Serizy. + </p> + <p> + “He carried it loose in his pockets,” said Georges. + </p> + <p> + “So I’ve been told,” remarked Pere Leger with an incredulous look. + </p> + <p> + “Worse than that; he chewed and smoked,” continued Georges. “I saw him + smoking, in a queer way, too, at Waterloo, when Marshal Soult took him + round the waist and flung him into his carriage, just as he had seized a + musket and was going to charge the English—” + </p> + <p> + “You were at Waterloo!” cried Oscar, his eyes stretching wide open. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, young man, I did the campaign of 1815. I was a captain at + Mont-Saint-Jean, and I retired to the Loire, after we were all disbanded. + Faith! I was disgusted with France; I couldn’t stand it. In fact, I should + certainly have got myself arrested; so off I went, with two or three + dashing fellows,—Selves, Besson, and others, who are now in Egypt,—and + we entered the service of pacha Mohammed; a queer sort of fellow he was, + too! Once a tobacco merchant in the bazaars, he is now on the high-road to + be a sovereign prince. You’ve all seen him in that picture by Horace + Vernet,—‘The Massacre of the Mameluks.’ What a handsome fellow he + was! But I wouldn’t give up the religion of my fathers and embrace + Islamism; all the more because the abjuration required a surgical + operation which I hadn’t any fancy for. Besides, nobody respects a + renegade. Now if they had offered me a hundred thousand francs a year, + perhaps—and yet, no! The pacha did give me a thousand talari as a + present.” + </p> + <p> + “How much is that?” asked Oscar, who was listening to Georges with all his + ears. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! not much. A talaro is, as you might say, a five-franc piece. But + faith! I got no compensation for the vices I contracted in that + God-forsaken country, if country it is. I can’t live now without smoking a + narghile twice a-day, and that’s very costly.” + </p> + <p> + “How did you find Egypt?” asked the count. + </p> + <p> + “Egypt? Oh! Egypt is all sand,” replied Georges, by no means taken aback. + “There’s nothing green but the valley of the Nile. Draw a green line down + a sheet of yellow paper, and you have Egypt. But those Egyptians—fellahs + they are called—have an immense advantage over us. There are no + gendarmes in that country. You may go from end to end of Egypt, and you + won’t see one.” + </p> + <p> + “But I suppose there are a good many Egyptians,” said Mistigris. + </p> + <p> + “Not as many as you think for,” replied Georges. “There are many more + Abyssinians, and Giaours, and Vechabites, Bedouins, and Cophs. But all + that kind of animal is very uninteresting, and I was glad enough to embark + on a Genoese polacca which was loading for the Ionian Islands with + gunpowder and munitions for Ali de Tebelen. You know, don’t you, that the + British sell powder and munitions of war to all the world,—Turks, + Greeks, and the devil, too, if the devil has money? From Zante we were to + skirt the coasts of Greece and tack about, on and off. Now it happens that + my name of Georges is famous in that country. I am, such as you see me, + the grandson of the famous Czerni-Georges who made war upon the Porte, + and, instead of crushing it, as he meant to do, got crushed himself. His + son took refuge in the house of the French consul at Smyrna, and he + afterwards died in Paris, leaving my mother pregnant with me, his seventh + child. Our property was all stolen by friends of my grandfather; in fact, + we were ruined. My mother, who lived on her diamonds, which she sold one + by one, married, in 1799, my step-father, Monsieur Yung, a purveyor. But + my mother is dead, and I have quarrelled with my step-father, who, between + ourselves, is a blackguard; he is still alive, but I never see him. That’s + why, in despair, left all to myself, I went off to the wars as a private + in 1813. Well, to go back to the time I returned to Greece; you wouldn’t + believe with what joy old Ali Tebelen received the grandson of + Czerni-Georges. Here, of course, I call myself simply Georges. The pacha + gave me a harem—” + </p> + <p> + “You have had a harem?” said Oscar. + </p> + <p> + “Were you a pacha with <i>many</i> tails?” asked Mistigris. + </p> + <p> + “How is it that you don’t know,” replied Georges, “that only the Sultan + makes pachas, and that my friend Tebelen (for we were as friendly as + Bourbons) was in rebellion against the Padishah! You know, or you don’t + know, that the true title of the Grand Seignior is Padishah, and not + Sultan or Grand Turk. You needn’t think that a harem is much of a thing; + you might as well have a herd of goats. The women are horribly stupid down + there; I much prefer the grisettes of the Chaumieres at Mont-Parnasse.” + </p> + <p> + “They are nearer, at any rate,” said the count. + </p> + <p> + “The women of the harem couldn’t speak a word of French, and that language + is indispensable for talking. Ali gave me five legitimate wives and ten + slaves; that’s equivalent to having none at all at Janina. In the East, + you must know, it is thought very bad style to have wives and women. They + have them, just as we have Voltaire and Rousseau; but who ever opens his + Voltaire or his Rousseau? Nobody. But, for all that, the highest style is + to be jealous. They sew a woman up in a sack and fling her into the water + on the slightest suspicion,—that’s according to their Code.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you fling any in?” asked the farmer. + </p> + <p> + “I, a Frenchman! for shame! I loved them.” + </p> + <p> + Whereupon Georges twirled and twisted his moustache with a dreamy air. + </p> + <p> + They were now entering Saint-Denis, and Pierrotin presently drew up before + the door of a tavern where were sold the famous cheese-cakes of that + place. All the travellers got out. Puzzled by the apparent truth mingled + with Georges’ inventions, the count returned to the coucou when the others + had entered the house, and looked beneath the cushion for the portfolio + which Pierrotin told him that enigmatical youth had placed there. On it he + read the words in gilt letters: “Maitre Crottat, notary.” The count at + once opened it, and fearing, with some reason, that Pere Leger might be + seized with the same curiosity, he took out the deed of sale for the farm + at Moulineaux, put it into his coat pocket, and entered the inn to keep an + eye on the travellers. + </p> + <p> + “This Georges is neither more nor less than Crottat’s second clerk,” + thought he. “I shall pay my compliments to his master, whose business it + was to send me his head-clerk.” + </p> + <p> + From the respectful glances of Pere Leger and Oscar, Georges perceived + that he had made for himself two fervent admirers. Accordingly, he now + posed as a great personage; paid for their cheese-cakes, and ordered for + each a glass of Alicante. He offered the same to Mistigris and his master, + who refused with smiles; but the friend of Ali Tebelen profited by the + occasion to ask the pair their names. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! monsieur,” said Mistigris’ master, “I am not blessed, like you, with + an illustrious name; and I have not returned from Asia—” + </p> + <p> + At this moment the count, hastening into the huge inn-kitchen lest his + absence should excite inquiry, entered the place in time to hear the + conclusion of the young man’s speech. + </p> + <p> + “—I am only a poor painter lately returned from Rome, where I went + at the cost of the government, after winning the ‘grand prix’ five years + ago. My name is Schinner.” + </p> + <p> + “Hey! bourgeois, may I offer you a glass of Alicante and some + cheese-cakes?” said Georges to the count. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you,” replied the latter. “I never leave home without taking my cup + of coffee and cream.” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t you eat anything between meals? How bourgeois, Marais, Place + Royale, that is!” cried Georges. “When he ‘blagued’ just now about his + crosses, I thought there was something in him,” whispered the Eastern hero + to the painter. “However, we’ll set him going on his decorations, the old + tallow-chandler! Come, my lad,” he added, calling to Oscar, “drink me down + the glass poured out for the chandler; that will start your moustache.” + </p> + <p> + Oscar, anxious to play the man, swallowed the second glass of wine, and + ate three more cheese-cakes. + </p> + <p> + “Good wine, that!” said Pere Leger, smacking his lips. + </p> + <p> + “It is all the better,” said Georges, “because it comes from Bercy. I’ve + been to Alicante myself, and I know that this wine no more resembles what + is made there than my arm is like a windmill. Our made-up wines are a + great deal better than the natural ones in their own country. Come, + Pierrotin, take a glass! It is a great pity your horses can’t take one, + too; we might go faster.” + </p> + <p> + “Forward, march!” cried Pierrotin, amid a mighty cracking of whips, after + the travellers were again boxed up. + </p> + <p> + It was now eleven o’clock. The weather, which had been cloudy, cleared; + the breeze swept off the mists, and the blue of the sky appeared in spots; + so that when the coucou trundled along the narrow strip of road from + Saint-Denis to Pierrefitte, the sun had fairly drunk up the last floating + vapors of the diaphanous veil which swathed the scenery of that famous + region. + </p> + <p> + “Well, now, tell us why you left your friend the pacha,” said Pere Leger, + addressing Georges. + </p> + <p> + “He was a very singular scamp,” replied Georges, with an air that hid a + multitude of mysteries. “He put me in command of his cavalry,—so + far, so good—” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! that’s why he wears spurs,” thought poor Oscar. + </p> + <p> + “At that time Ali Tebelen wanted to rid himself of Chosrew pacha, another + queer chap! You call him, here, Chaureff; but the name is pronounced, in + Turkish, Cosserew. You must have read in the newspapers how old Ali + drubbed Chosrew, and soundly, too, faith! Well, if it hadn’t been for me, + Ali Tebelen himself would have bit the dust two days earlier. I was at the + right wing, and I saw Chosrew, an old sly-boots, thinking to force our + centre,—ranks closed, stiff, swift, fine movement a la Murat. Good! + I take my time; then I charge, double-quick, and cut his line in two,—you + understand? Ha! ha! after the affair was over, Ali kissed me—” + </p> + <p> + “Do they do that in the East?” asked the count, in a joking way. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, monsieur,” said the painter, “that’s done all the world over.” + </p> + <p> + “After that,” continued Georges, “Ali gave me yataghans, and carbines, and + scimetars, and what-not. But when we got back to his capital he made me + propositions, wanted me to drown a wife, and make a slave of myself,—Orientals + are so queer! But I thought I’d had enough of it; for, after all, you + know, Ali was a rebel against the Porte. So I concluded I had better get + off while I could. But I’ll do Monsieur Tebelen the justice to say that he + loaded me with presents,—diamonds, ten thousand talari, one thousand + gold coins, a beautiful Greek girl for groom, a little Circassian for a + mistress, and an Arab horse! Yes, Ali Tebelen, pacha of Janina, is too + little known; he needs an historian. It is only in the East one meets with + such iron souls, who can nurse a vengeance twenty years and accomplish it + some fine morning. He had the most magnificent white beard that was ever + seen, and a hard, stern face—” + </p> + <p> + “But what did you do with your treasures?” asked farmer Leger. + </p> + <p> + “Ha! that’s it! you may well ask that! Those fellows down there haven’t + any Grand Livre nor any Bank of France. So I was forced to carry off my + windfalls in a felucca, which was captured by the Turkish High-Admiral + himself. Such as you see me here to-day, I came very near being impaled at + Smyrna. Indeed, if it hadn’t been for Monsieur de Riviere, our ambassador, + who was there, they’d have taken me for an accomplice of Ali pacha. I + saved my head, but, to tell the honest truth, all the rest, the ten + thousand talari, the thousand gold pieces, and the fine weapons, were all, + yes all, drunk up by the thirsty treasury of the Turkish admiral. My + position was the more perilous because that very admiral happened to be + Chosrew pacha. After I routed him, the fellow had managed to obtain a + position which is equal to that of our Admiral of the Fleet—” + </p> + <p> + “But I thought he was in the cavalry?” said Pere Leger, who had followed + the narrative with the deepest attention. + </p> + <p> + “Dear me! how little the East is understood in the French provinces!” + cried Georges. “Monsieur, I’ll explain the Turks to you. You are a farmer; + the Padishah (that’s the Sultan) makes you a marshal; if you don’t fulfil + your functions to his satisfaction, so much the worse for you, he cuts + your head off; that’s his way of dismissing his functionaries. A gardener + is made a prefect; and the prime minister comes down to be a foot-boy. The + Ottomans have no system of promotion and no hierarchy. From a cavalry + officer Chosrew simply became a naval officer. Sultan Mahmoud ordered him + to capture Ali by sea; and he did get hold of him, assisted by those + beggarly English—who put their paw on most of the treasure. This + Chosrew, who had not forgotten the riding-lesson I gave him, recognized + me. You understand, my goose was cooked, oh, brown! when it suddenly came + into my head to claim protection as a Frenchman and a troubadour from + Monsieur de Riviere. The ambassador, enchanted to find something to show + him off, demanded that I should be set at liberty. The Turks have one good + trait in their nature; they are as willing to let you go as they are to + cut your head off; they are indifferent to everything. The French consul, + charming fellow, friend of Chosrew, made him give back two thousand of the + talari, and, consequently, his name is, as I may say, graven on my heart—” + </p> + <p> + “What was his name?” asked Monsieur de Serizy; and a look of some surprise + passed over his face as Georges named, correctly, one of our most + distinguished consul-generals who happened at that time to be stationed at + Smyrna. + </p> + <p> + “I assisted,” added Georges, “at the execution of the Governor of Smyrna, + whom the Sultan had ordered Chosrew to put to death. It was one of the + most curious things I ever saw, though I’ve seen many,—I’ll tell you + about it when we stop for breakfast. From Smyrna I crossed to Spain, + hearing there was a revolution there. I went straight to Mina, who + appointed me as his aide-de-camp with the rank of colonel. I fought for + the constitutional cause, which will certainly be defeated when we enter + Spain—as we undoubtedly shall, some of these days—” + </p> + <p> + “You, a French soldier!” said the count, sternly. “You show extraordinary + confidence in the discretion of those who are listening to you.” + </p> + <p> + “But there are no spies here,” said Georges. + </p> + <p> + “Are you aware, Colonel Georges,” continued the count, “that the Court of + Peers is at this very time inquiring into a conspiracy which has made the + government extremely severe in its treatment of French soldiers who bear + arms against France, and who deal in foreign intrigues for the purpose of + overthrowing our legitimate sovereigns.” + </p> + <p> + On hearing this stern admonition the painter turned red to his ears and + looked at Mistigris, who seemed dumfounded. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Pere Leger, “what next?” + </p> + <p> + “If,” continued the count, “I were a magistrate, it would be my duty to + order the gendarmes at Pierrefitte to arrest the aide-de-camp of Mina, and + to summon all present in this vehicle to testify to his words.” + </p> + <p> + This speech stopped Georges’ narrative all the more surely, because at + this moment the coucou reached the guard-house of a brigade of + gendarmerie,—the white flag floating, as the orthodox saying is, + upon the breeze. + </p> + <p> + “You have too many decorations to do such a dastardly thing,” said Oscar. + </p> + <p> + “Never mind; we’ll catch up with him soon,” whispered Georges in the lad’s + ear. + </p> + <p> + “Colonel,” cried Leger, who was a good deal disturbed by the count’s + outburst, and wanted to change the conversation, “in all these countries + where you have been, what sort of farming do they do? How do they vary the + crops?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, in the first place, my good fellow, you must understand, they are + too busy cropping off each others’ heads to think much of cropping the + ground.” + </p> + <p> + The count couldn’t help smiling; and that smile reassured the narrator. + </p> + <p> + “They have a way of cultivating which you will think very queer. They + don’t cultivate at all; that’s their style of farming. The Turks and the + Greeks, they eat onions or rise. They get opium from poppies, and it gives + them a fine revenue. Then they have tobacco, which grows of itself, famous + latakiah! and dates! and all kinds of sweet things that don’t need + cultivation. It is a country full of resources and commerce. They make + fine rugs at Smyrna, and not dear.” + </p> + <p> + “But,” persisted Leger, “if the rugs are made of wool they must come from + sheep; and to have sheep you must have fields, farms, culture—” + </p> + <p> + “Well, there may be something of that sort,” replied Georges. “But their + chief crop, rice, grows in the water. As for me, I have only been along + the coasts and seen the parts that are devastated by war. Besides, I have + the deepest aversion to statistics.” + </p> + <p> + “How about the taxes?” asked the farmer. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! the taxes are heavy; they take all a man has, and leave him the rest. + The pacha of Egypt was so struck with the advantages of that system, that, + when I came away he was on the point of organizing his own administration + on that footing—” + </p> + <p> + “But,” said Leger, who no longer understood a single word, “how?” + </p> + <p> + “How?” said Georges. “Why, agents go round and take all the harvests, and + leave the fellahs just enough to live on. That’s a system that does away + with stamped papers and bureaucracy, the curse of France, hein?” + </p> + <p> + “By virtue of what right?” said Leger. + </p> + <p> + “Right? why it is a land of despotism. They haven’t any rights. Don’t you + know the fine definition Montesquieu gives of despotism. ‘Like the savage, + it cuts down the tree to gather the fruits.’ They don’t tax, they take + everything.” + </p> + <p> + “And that’s what our rulers are trying to bring us to. ‘Tax vobiscum,’—no, + thank you!” said Mistigris. + </p> + <p> + “But that is what we <i>are</i> coming to,” said the count. “Therefore, + those who own land will do well to sell it. Monsieur Schinner must have + seen how things are tending in Italy, where the taxes are enormous.” + </p> + <p> + “Corpo di Bacco! the Pope is laying it on heavily,” replied Schinner. “But + the people are used to it. Besides, Italians are so good-natured that if + you let ‘em murder a few travellers along the highways they’re contented.” + </p> + <p> + “I see, Monsieur Schinner,” said the count, “that you are not wearing the + decoration you obtained in 1819; it seems the fashion nowadays not to wear + orders.” + </p> + <p> + Mistigris and the pretended Schinner blushed to their ears. + </p> + <p> + “Well, with me,” said the artist, “the case is different. It isn’t on + account of fashion; but I don’t want to be recognized. Have the goodness + not to betray me, monsieur; I am supposed to be a little painter of no + consequence,—a mere decorator. I’m on may way to a chateau where I + mustn’t rouse the slightest suspicion.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! I see,” said the count, “some intrigue,—a love affair! Youth is + happy!” + </p> + <p> + Oscar, who was writhing in his skin at being a nobody and having nothing + to say, gazed at Colonel Czerni-Georges and at the famous painter + Schinner, and wondered how he could transform himself into somebody. But a + youth of nineteen, kept at home all his life, and going for two weeks only + into the country, what could he be, or do, or say? However, the Alicante + had got into his head, and his vanity was boiling in his veins; so when + the famous Schinner allowed a romantic adventure to be guessed at in which + the danger seemed as great as the pleasure, he fastened his eyes, + sparkling with wrath and envy, upon that hero. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said the count, with a credulous air, “a man must love a woman well + to make such sacrifices.” + </p> + <p> + “What sacrifices?” demanded Mistigris. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t you know, my little friend, that a ceiling painted by so great a + master as yours is worth its weight in gold?” replied the count. “If the + civil list paid you, as it did, thirty thousand francs for each of those + rooms in the Louvre,” he continued, addressing Schinner, “a bourgeois,—as + you call us in the studios—ought certainly to pay you twenty + thousand. Whereas, if you go to this chateau as a humble decorator, you + will not get two thousand.” + </p> + <p> + “The money is not the greatest loss,” said Mistigris. “The work is sure to + be a masterpiece, but he can’t sign it, you know, for fear of compromising + <i>her</i>.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! I’d return all my crosses to the sovereigns who gave them to me for + the devotion that youth can win,” said the count. + </p> + <p> + “That’s just it!” said Mistigris, “when one’s young, one’s loved; plenty + of love, plenty of women; but they do say: ‘Where there’s wife, there’s + mope.’” + </p> + <p> + “What does Madame Schinner say to all this?” pursued the count; “for I + believe you married, out of love, the beautiful Adelaide de Rouville, the + protegee of old Admiral de Kergarouet; who, by the bye, obtained for you + the order for the Louvre ceilings through his nephew, the Comte de + Fontaine.” + </p> + <p> + “A great painter is never married when he travels,” said Mistigris. + </p> + <p> + “So that’s the morality of studios, is it?” cried the count, with an air + of great simplicity. + </p> + <p> + “Is the morality of courts where you got those decorations of yours any + better?” said Schinner, recovering his self-possession, upset for the + moment by finding out how much the count knew of Schinner’s life as an + artist. + </p> + <p> + “I never asked for any of my orders,” said the count. “I believe I have + loyally earned them.” + </p> + <p> + “‘A fair yield and no flavor,’” said Mistigris. + </p> + <p> + The count was resolved not to betray himself; he assumed an air of + good-humored interest in the country, and looked up the valley of Groslay + as the coucou took the road to Saint-Brice, leaving that to Chantilly on + the right. + </p> + <p> + “Is Rome as fine as they say it is?” said Georges, addressing the great + painter. + </p> + <p> + “Rome is fine only to those who love it; a man must have a passion for it + to enjoy it. As a city, I prefer Venice,—though I just missed being + murdered there.” + </p> + <p> + “Faith, yes!” cried Mistigris; “if it hadn’t been for me you’d have been + gobbled up. It was that mischief-making tom-fool, Lord Byron, who got you + into the scrape. Oh! wasn’t he raging, that buffoon of an Englishman?” + </p> + <p> + “Hush!” said Schinner. “I don’t want my affair with Lord Byron talked + about.” + </p> + <p> + “But you must own, all the same, that you were glad enough I knew how to + box,” said Mistigris. + </p> + <p> + From time to time, Pierrotin exchanged sly glances with the count, which + might have made less inexperienced persons than the five other travellers + uneasy. + </p> + <p> + “Lords, pachas, and thirty-thousand-franc ceilings!” he cried. “I seem to + be driving sovereigns. What pourboires I’ll get!” + </p> + <p> + “And all the places paid for!” said Mistigris, slyly. + </p> + <p> + “It is a lucky day for me,” continued Pierrotin; “for you know, Pere + Leger, about my beautiful new coach on which I have paid an advance of two + thousand francs? Well, those dogs of carriage-builders, to whom I have to + pay two thousand five hundred francs more, won’t take fifteen hundred + down, and my note for a thousand for two months! Those vultures want it + all. Who ever heard of being so stiff with a man in business these eight + years, and the father of a family?—making me run the risk of losing + everything, carriage and money too, if I can’t find before to-morrow night + that miserable last thousand! Hue, Bichette! They won’t play that trick on + the great coach offices, I’ll warrant you.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, that’s it,” said the rapin; “‘your money or your strife.’” + </p> + <p> + “Well, you have only eight hundred now to get,” remarked the count, who + considered this moan, addressed to Pere Leger, a sort of letter of credit + drawn upon himself. + </p> + <p> + “True,” said Pierrotin. “Xi! xi! Rougeot!” + </p> + <p> + “You must have seen many fine ceilings in Venice,” resumed the count, + addressing Schinner. + </p> + <p> + “I was too much in love to take any notice of what seemed to me then mere + trifles,” replied Schinner. “But I was soon cured of that folly, for it + was in the Venetian states—in Dalmatia—that I received a cruel + lesson.” + </p> + <p> + “Can it be told?” asked Georges. “I know Dalmatia very well.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, if you have been there, you know that all the people at that end of + the Adriatic are pirates, rovers, corsairs retired from business, as they + haven’t been hanged—” + </p> + <p> + “Uscoques,” said Georges. + </p> + <p> + Hearing the right name given, the count, who had been sent by Napoleon on + one occasion to the Illyrian provinces, turned his head and looked at + Georges, so surprised was he. + </p> + <p> + “The affair happened in that town where they make maraschino,” continued + Schinner, seeming to search for a name. + </p> + <p> + “Zara,” said Georges. “I’ve been there; it is on the coast.” + </p> + <p> + “You are right,” said the painter. “I had gone there to look at the + country, for I adore scenery. I’ve longed a score of times to paint + landscape, which no one, as I think, understands but Mistigris, who will + some day reproduce Hobbema, Ruysdael, Claude Lorrain, Poussin, and + others.” + </p> + <p> + “But,” exclaimed the count, “if he reproduces one of them won’t that be + enough?” + </p> + <p> + “If you persist in interrupting, monsieur,” said Oscar, “we shall never + get on.” + </p> + <p> + “And Monsieur Schinner was not addressing himself to you in particular,” + added Georges. + </p> + <p> + “‘Tisn’t polite to interrupt,” said Mistigris, sententiously, “but we all + do it, and conversation would lose a great deal if we didn’t scatter + little condiments while exchanging our reflections. Therefore, continue, + agreeable old gentleman, to lecture us, if you like. It is done in the + best society, and you know the proverb: ‘we must ‘owl with the wolves.’” + </p> + <p> + “I had heard marvellous things of Dalmatia,” resumed Schinner, “so I went + there, leaving Mistigris in Venice at an inn—” + </p> + <p> + “‘Locanda,’” interposed Mistigris; “keep to the local color.” + </p> + <p> + “Zara is what is called a country town—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Georges; “but it is fortified.” + </p> + <p> + “Parbleu!” said Schinner; “the fortifications count for much in my + adventure. At Zara there are a great many apothecaries. I lodged with one. + In foreign countries everybody makes a principal business of letting + lodgings; all other trades are accessory. In the evening, linen changed, I + sat in my balcony. In the opposite balcony I saw a woman; oh! such a + woman! Greek,—<i>that tells all</i>! The most beautiful creature in + the town; almond eyes, lids that dropped like curtains, lashes like a + paint-brush, a face with an oval to drive Raffaelle mad, a skin of the + most delicious coloring, tints well-blended, velvety! and hands, oh!—” + </p> + <p> + “They weren’t made of butter like those of the David school,” put in + Mistigris. + </p> + <p> + “You are always lugging in your painting,” cried Georges. + </p> + <p> + “La, la!” retorted Mistigris; “‘an ounce o’ paint is worth a pound of + swagger.’” + </p> + <p> + “And such a costume! pure Greek!” continued Schinner. “Conflagration of + soul! you understand? Well, I questioned my Diafoirus; and he told me that + my neighbor was named Zena. Changed my linen. The husband, an old villain, + in order to marry Zena, paid three hundred thousand francs to her father + and mother, so celebrated was the beauty of that beautiful creature, who + was truly the most beautiful girl in all Dalmatia, Illyria, Adriatica, and + other places. In those parts they buy their wives without seeing them—” + </p> + <p> + “I shall not go <i>there</i>,” said Pere Leger. + </p> + <p> + “There are nights when my sleep is still illuminated by the eyes of Zena,” + continued Schinner. “The husband was sixty-nine years of age, and jealous! + not as a tiger, for they say of a tiger, ‘jealous as a Dalmatian’; and my + man was worse than A Dalmatian, one Dalmatian,—he was three and a + half Dalmatians at the very least; he was an Uscoque, tricoque, archicoque + in a bicoque of a paltry little place like Zara—” + </p> + <p> + “Horrid fellow, and ‘horrider bellow,’” put in Mistigris. + </p> + <p> + “Ha! good,” said Georges, laughing. + </p> + <p> + “After being a corsair, and probably a pirate, he thought no more of + spitting a Christian on his dagger than I did of spitting on the ground,” + continued Schinner. “So that was how the land lay. The old wretch had + millions, and was hideous with the loss of an ear some pacha had cut off, + and the want of an eye left I don’t know where. ‘Never,’ said the little + Diafoirus, ‘never does he leave his wife, never for a second.’ ‘Perhaps + she’ll want your services, and I could go in your clothes; that’s a trick + that has great success in our theatres,’ I told him. Well, it would take + too long to tell you all the delicious moments of that lifetime—to + wit, three days—which I passed exchanging looks with Zena, and + changing linen every day. It was all the more violently titillating + because the slightest motion was significant and dangerous. At last it + must have dawned upon Zena’s mind that none but a Frenchman and an artist + was daring enough to make eyes at her in the midst of the perils by which + she was surrounded; and as she hated her hideous pirate, she answered my + glances with delightful ogles fit to raise a man to the summit of Paradise + without pulleys. I attained to the height of Don Quixote; I rose to + exaltation! and I cried: ‘The monster may kill me, but I’ll go, I’ll go!’ + I gave up landscape and studied the ignoble dwelling of the Uscoque. That + night, changed linen, and put on the most perfumed shirt I had; then I + crossed the street, and entered—” + </p> + <p> + “The house?” cried Oscar. + </p> + <p> + “The house?” echoed Georges. + </p> + <p> + “The house,” said Schinner. + </p> + <p> + “Well, you’re a bold dog,” cried farmer Leger. “I should have kept out of + it myself.” + </p> + <p> + “Especially as you could never have got through the doorway,” replied + Schinner. “So in I went,” he resumed, “and I found two hands stretched out + to meet mine. I said nothing, for those hands, soft as the peel of an + onion, enjoined me to silence. A whisper breathed into my ear, ‘He + sleeps!’ Then, as we were sure that nobody would see us, we went to walk, + Zena and I, upon the ramparts, but accompanied, if you please, by a + duenna, as hideous as an old portress, who didn’t leave us any more than + our shadow; and I couldn’t persuade Madame Pirate to send her away. The + next night we did the same thing, and again I wanted to get rid of the old + woman, but Zena resisted. As my sweet love spoke only Greek, and I + Venetian, we couldn’t understand each other, and so we quarrelled. I said + to myself, in changing linen, ‘As sure as fate, the next time there’ll be + no old woman, and we can make it all up with the language of love.’ + Instead of which, fate willed that that old woman should save my life! + You’ll hear how. The weather was fine, and, not to create suspicion, I + took a turn at landscape,—this was after our quarrel was made up, + you understand. After walking along the ramparts for some time, I was + coming tranquilly home with my hands in my pockets, when I saw the street + crowded with people. Such a crowd! like that for an execution. It fell + upon me; I was seized, garroted, gagged, and guarded by the police. Ah! + you don’t know—and I hope you never may know—what it is to be + taken for a murderer by a maddened populace which stones you and howls + after you from end to end of the principal street of a town, shouting for + your death! Ah! those eyes were so many flames, all mouths were a single + curse, while from the volume of that burning hatred rose the fearful cry: + ‘To death! to death! down with the murderer!’” + </p> + <p> + “So those Dalmatians spoke our language, did they?” said the count. “I + observe you relate the scene as if it happened yesterday.” + </p> + <p> + Schinner was nonplussed. + </p> + <p> + “Riot has but one language,” said the astute statesman Mistigris. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” continued Schinner, “when I was brought into court in presence of + the magistrates, I learned that the cursed corsair was dead, poisoned by + Zena. I’d liked to have changed linen then. Give you my word, I knew + nothing of <i>that</i> melodrama. It seems the Greek girl put opium (a + great many poppies, as monsieur told us, grow about there) in the pirate’s + grog, just to make him sleep soundly and leave her free for a little walk + with me, and the old duenna, unfortunate creature, made a mistake and + trebled the dose. The immense fortune of that cursed pirate was really the + cause of all my Zena’s troubles. But she explained matters so ingenuously + that I, for one, was released with an injunction from the mayor and the + Austrian commissary of police to go back to Rome. Zena, who let the heirs + of the Uscoque and the judges get most of the old villain’s wealth, was + let off with two years’ seclusion in a convent, where she still is. I am + going back there some day to paint her portrait; for in a few years, you + know, all this will be forgotten. Such are the follies one commits at + eighteen!” + </p> + <p> + “And you left me without a sou in the locanda at Venice,” said Mistigris. + “And I had to get from Venice to Rome by painting portraits for five + francs apiece, which they didn’t pay me. However, that was my halcyon + time. I don’t regret it.” + </p> + <p> + “You can imagine the reflections that came to me in that Dalmatian prison, + thrown there without protection, having to answer to Austrians and + Dalmatians, and in danger of losing my head because I went twice to walk + with a woman. There’s ill-luck, with a vengeance!” + </p> + <p> + “Did all that really happen to you?” said Oscar, naively. + </p> + <p> + “Why shouldn’t it happen to him, inasmuch as it had already happened + during the French occupation of Illyria to one of our most gallant + officers of artillery?” said the count, slyly. + </p> + <p> + “And you believed that artillery officer?” said Mistigris, as slyly to the + count. + </p> + <p> + “Is that all?” asked Oscar. + </p> + <p> + “Of course he can’t tell you that they cut his head off,—how could + he?” said Mistigris. “‘Dead schinners tell no tales.’” + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur, are there farms in that country?” asked Pere Leger. “What do + they cultivate?” + </p> + <p> + “Maraschino,” replied Mistigris,—“a plant that grows to the height + of the lips, and produces a liqueur which goes by that name.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” said Pere Leger. + </p> + <p> + “I only stayed three days in the town and fifteen in prison,” said + Schinner, “so I saw nothing; not even the fields where they grow the + maraschino.” + </p> + <p> + “They are fooling you,” said Georges to the farmer. “Maraschino comes in + cases.” + </p> + <p> + “‘Romances alter cases,’” remarked Mistigris. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER V. THE DRAMA BEGINS + </h2> + <p> + Pierrotin’s vehicle was now going down the steep incline of the valley of + Saint-Brice to the inn which stands in the middle of the large village of + that name, where Pierrotin was in the habit of stopping an hour to breathe + his horses, give them their oats, and water them. It was now about + half-past one o’clock. + </p> + <p> + “Ha! here’s Pere Leger,” cried the inn-keeper, when the coach pulled up + before the door. “Do you breakfast?” + </p> + <p> + “Always once a day,” said the fat farmer; “and I’ll break a crust here and + now.” + </p> + <p> + “Give us a good breakfast,” cried Georges, twirling his cane in a cavalier + manner which excited the admiration of poor Oscar. + </p> + <p> + But that admiration was turned to jealousy when he saw the gay adventurer + pull out from a side-pocket a small straw case, from which he selected a + light-colored cigar, which he proceeded to smoke on the threshold of the + inn door while waiting for breakfast. + </p> + <p> + “Do you smoke?” he asked of Oscar. + </p> + <p> + “Sometimes,” replied the ex-schoolboy, swelling out his little chest and + assuming a jaunty air. + </p> + <p> + Georges presented the open case to Oscar and Schinner. + </p> + <p> + “Phew!” said the great painter; “ten-sous cigars!” + </p> + <p> + “The remains of those I brought back from Spain,” said the adventurer. “Do + you breakfast here?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said the artist. “I am expected at the chateau. Besides, I took + something at the Lion d’Argent just before starting.” + </p> + <p> + “And you?” said Georges to Oscar. + </p> + <p> + “I have breakfasted,” replied Oscar. + </p> + <p> + Oscar would have given ten years of his life for boots and straps to his + trousers. He sneezed, he coughed, he spat, and swallowed the smoke with + ill-disguised grimaces. + </p> + <p> + “You don’t know how to smoke,” said Schinner; “look at me!” + </p> + <p> + With a motionless face Schinner breathed in the smoke of his cigar and let + it out through his nose without the slightest contraction of feature. Then + he took another whiff, kept the smoke in his throat, removed the cigar + from his lips, and allowed the smoke slowly and gracefully to escape them. + </p> + <p> + “There, young man,” said the great painter. + </p> + <p> + “Here, young man, here’s another way; watch this,” said Georges, imitating + Schinner, but swallowing the smoke and exhaling none. + </p> + <p> + “And my parents believed they had educated me!” thought Oscar, endeavoring + to smoke with better grace. + </p> + <p> + But his nausea was so strong that he was thankful when Mistigris filched + his cigar, remarking, as he smoked it with evident satisfaction, “You + haven’t any contagious diseases, I hope.” + </p> + <p> + Oscar in reply would fain have punched his head. + </p> + <p> + “How he does spend money!” he said, looking at Colonel Georges. “Eight + francs for Alicante and the cheese-cakes; forty sous for cigars; and his + breakfast will cost him—” + </p> + <p> + “Ten francs at least,” replied Mistigris; “but that’s how things are. + ‘Sharp stomachs make short purses.’” + </p> + <p> + “Come, Pere Leger, let us drink a bottle of Bordeaux together,” said + Georges to the farmer. + </p> + <p> + “Twenty francs for his breakfast!” cried Oscar; “in all, more than + thirty-odd francs since we started!” + </p> + <p> + Killed by a sense of his inferiority, Oscar sat down on a stone post, lost + in a revery which did not allow him to perceive that his trousers, drawn + up by the effect of his position, showed the point of junction between the + old top of his stocking and the new “footing,”—his mother’s + handiwork. + </p> + <p> + “We are brothers in socks,” said Mistigris, pulling up his own trousers + sufficiently to show an effect of the same kind,—“‘By the footing, + Hercules.’” + </p> + <p> + The count, who overheard this, laughed as he stood with folded arms under + the porte-cochere, a little behind the other travellers. However + nonsensical these lads might be, the grave statesman envied their very + follies; he liked their bragging and enjoyed the fun of their lively + chatter. + </p> + <p> + “Well, are you to have Les Moulineaux? for I know you went to Paris to get + the money for the purchase,” said the inn-keeper to Pere Leger, whom he + had just taken to the stables to see a horse he wanted to sell to him. “It + will be queer if you manage to fleece a peer of France and a minister of + State like the Comte de Serizy.” + </p> + <p> + The person thus alluded to showed no sign upon his face as he turned to + look at the farmer. + </p> + <p> + “I’ve done for him,” replied Pere Leger, in a low voice. + </p> + <p> + “Good! I like to see those nobles fooled. If you should want twenty + thousand francs or so, I’ll lend them to you—But Francois, the + conductor of Touchard’s six o’clock coach, told me that Monsieur Margueron + was invited by the Comte de Serizy to dine with him to-day at Presles.” + </p> + <p> + “That was the plan of his Excellency, but we had our own little ways of + thwarting it,” said the farmer, laughing. + </p> + <p> + “The count could appoint Monsieur Margueron’s son, and you haven’t any + place to give,—remember that,” said the inn-keeper. + </p> + <p> + “Of course I do; but if the count has the ministry on his side, I have + King Louis XVIII.,” said Pere Leger, in a low voice. “Forty thousand of + his pictures on coin of the realm given to Moreau will enable me to buy + Les Moulineaux for two hundred and sixty thousand, money down, before + Monsieur de Serizy can do so. When he finds the sale is made, he’ll be + glad enough to buy the farm for three hundred and sixty thousand, instead + of letting me cut it up in small lots right in the heart of his property.” + </p> + <p> + “Well done, bourgeois!” cried the inn-keeper. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t you think that’s good play?” said Leger. + </p> + <p> + “Besides,” said the inn-keeper, “the farm is really worth that to him.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; Les Moulineaux brings in to-day six thousand francs in rental. I’ll + take another lease of it at seven thousand five hundred for eighteen + years. Therefore it is really an investment at more than two and a half + per cent. The count can’t complain of that. In order not to involve + Moreau, he is himself to propose me as tenant and farmer; it gives him a + look of acting for his master’s interests by finding him nearly three per + cent for his money, and a tenant who will pay well.” + </p> + <p> + “How much will Moreau make, in all?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, if the count gives him ten thousand francs for the transaction the + matter will bring him fifty thousand,—and well-earned, too.” + </p> + <p> + “After all, the count, so they tell me, doesn’t like Presles. And then he + is so rich, what does it matter what it costs him?” said the inn-keeper. + “I have never seen him, myself.” + </p> + <p> + “Nor I,” said Pere Leger. “But he must be intending to live there, or why + should he spend two hundred thousand francs in restoring the chateau? It + is as fine now as the King’s own palace.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, well,” said the inn-keeper, “it was high time for Moreau to feather + his nest.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, for if the masters come there,” replied Leger, “they won’t keep + their eyes in their pockets.” + </p> + <p> + The count lost not a word of this conversation, which was held in a low + voice, but not in a whisper. + </p> + <p> + “Here I have actually found the proofs I was going down there to seek,” he + thought, looking at the fat farmer as he entered the kitchen. “But + perhaps,” he added, “it is only a scheme; Moreau may not have listened to + it.” + </p> + <p> + So unwilling was he to believe that his steward could lend himself to such + a conspiracy. + </p> + <p> + Pierrotin here came out to water his horses. The count, thinking that the + driver would probably breakfast with the farmer and the inn-keeper, feared + some thoughtless indiscretion. + </p> + <p> + “All these people combine against us,” he thought; “it is allowable to + baffle them—Pierrotin,” he said in a low voice as the man passed + him, “I promised you ten louis to keep my secret; but if you continue to + conceal my name (and remember, I shall know if you pronounce it, or make + the slightest sign that reveals it to any one, no matter who, here or at + Isle-Adam, before to-night), I will give you to-morrow morning, on your + return trip, the thousand francs you need to pay for your new coach. + Therefore, by way of precaution,” added the count, striking Pierrotin, who + was pale with happiness, on the shoulder, “don’t go in there to breakfast; + stay with your horses.” + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur le comte, I understand you; don’t be afraid! it relates to Pere + Leger, of course.” + </p> + <p> + “It relates to every one,” replied the count. + </p> + <p> + “Make yourself easy.—Come, hurry,” said Pierrotin, a few moments + later, putting his head into the kitchen. “We are late. Pere Leger, you + know there’s a hill to climb; I’m not hungry, and I’ll drive on slowly; + you can soon overtake me,—it will do you good to walk a bit.” + </p> + <p> + “What a hurry you are in, Pierrotin!” said the inn-keeper. “Can’t you stay + and breakfast? The colonel here pays for the wine at fifty sous, and has + ordered a bottle of champagne.” + </p> + <p> + “I can’t. I’ve got a fish I must deliver by three o’clock for a great + dinner at Stors; there’s no fooling with customers, or fishes, either.” + </p> + <p> + “Very good,” said Pere Leger to the inn-keeper. “You can harness that + horse you want to sell me into the cabriolet; we’ll breakfast in peace and + overtake Pierrotin, and I can judge of the beast as we go along. We can go + three in your jolter.” + </p> + <p> + To the count’s surprise, Pierrotin himself rebridled the horses. Schinner + and Mistigris had walked on. Scarcely had Pierrotin overtaken the two + artists and was mounting the hill from which Ecouen, the steeple of + Mesnil, and the forests that surround that most beautiful region, came in + sight, when the gallop of a horse and the jingling of a vehicle announced + the coming of Pere Leger and the grandson of Czerni-Georges, who were soon + restored to their places in the coucou. + </p> + <p> + As Pierrotin drove down the narrow road to Moisselles, Georges, who had so + far not ceased to talk with the farmer of the beauty of the hostess at + Saint-Brice, suddenly exclaimed: “Upon my word, this landscape is not so + bad, great painter, is it?” + </p> + <p> + “Pooh! you who have seen the East and Spain can’t really admire it.” + </p> + <p> + “I’ve two cigars left! If no one objects, will you help me finish them, + Schinner? the little young man there seems to have found a whiff or two + enough for him.” + </p> + <p> + Pere Leger and the count kept silence, which passed for consent. + </p> + <p> + Oscar, furious at being called a “little young man,” remarked, as the + other two were lighting their cigars: + </p> + <p> + “I am not the aide-de-camp of Mina, monsieur, and I have not yet been to + the East, but I shall probably go there. The career to which my family + destine me will spare me, I trust, the annoyances of travelling in a + coucou before I reach your present age. When I once become a personage I + shall know how to maintain my station.” + </p> + <p> + “‘Et caetera punctum!’” crowed Mistigris, imitating the hoarse voice of a + young cock; which made Oscar’s deliverance all the more absurd, because he + had just reached the age when the beard sprouts and the voice breaks. + “‘What a chit for chat!’” added the rapin. + </p> + <p> + “Your family, young man, destine you to some career, do they?” said + Georges. “Might I ask what it is?” + </p> + <p> + “Diplomacy,” replied Oscar. + </p> + <p> + Three bursts of laughter came from Mistigris, the great painter, and the + farmer. The count himself could not help smiling. Georges was perfectly + grave. + </p> + <p> + “By Allah!” he exclaimed, “I see nothing to laugh at in that. Though it + seems to me, young man, that your respectable mother is, at the present + moment, not exactly in the social sphere of an ambassadress. She carried a + handbag worthy of the utmost respect, and wore shoe-strings which—” + </p> + <p> + “My mother, monsieur!” exclaimed Oscar, in a tone of indignation. “That + was the person in charge of our household.” + </p> + <p> + “‘Our household’ is a very aristocratic term,” remarked the count. + </p> + <p> + “Kings have households,” replied Oscar, proudly. + </p> + <p> + A look from Georges repressed the desire to laugh which took possession of + everybody; he contrived to make Mistigris and the painter understand that + it was necessary to manage Oscar cleverly in order to work this new mine + of amusement. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur is right,” said the great Schinner to the count, motioning + towards Oscar. “Well-bred people always talk of their ‘households’; it is + only common persons like ourselves who say ‘home.’ For a man so covered + with decorations—” + </p> + <p> + “‘Nunc my eye, nunc alii,’” whispered Mistigris. + </p> + <p> + “—you seem to know little of the language of the courts. I ask your + future protection, Excellency,” added Schinner, turning to Oscar. + </p> + <p> + “I congratulate myself on having travelled with three such distinguished + men,” said the count,—“a painter already famous, a future general, + and a young diplomatist who may some day recover Belgium for France.” + </p> + <p> + Having committed the odious crime of repudiating his mother, Oscar, + furious from a sense that his companions were laughing at him, now + resolved, at any cost, to make them pay attention to him. + </p> + <p> + “‘All is not gold that glitters,’” he began, his eyes flaming. + </p> + <p> + “That’s not it,” said Mistigris. “‘All is not old that titters.’ You’ll + never get on in diplomacy if you don’t know your proverbs better than + that.” + </p> + <p> + “I may not know proverbs, but I know my way—” + </p> + <p> + “It must be far,” said Georges, “for I saw that person in charge of your + household give you provisions enough for an ocean voyage: rolls, chocolate—” + </p> + <p> + “A special kind of bread and chocolate, yes, monsieur,” returned Oscar; + “my stomach is much too delicate to digest the victuals of a tavern.” + </p> + <p> + “‘Victuals’ is a word as delicate and refined as your stomach,” said + Georges. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! I like that word ‘victuals,’” cried the great painter. + </p> + <p> + “The word is all the fashion in the best society,” said Mistigris. “I use + it myself at the cafe of the Black Hen.” + </p> + <p> + “Your tutor is, doubtless, some celebrated professor, isn’t he?—Monsieur + Andrieux of the Academie Francaise, or Monsieur Royer-Collard?” asked + Schinner. + </p> + <p> + “My tutor is or was the Abbe Loraux, now vicar of Saint-Sulpice,” replied + Oscar, recollecting the name of the confessor at his school. + </p> + <p> + “Well, you were right to take a private tutor,” said Mistigris. “‘Tuto, + tutor, celeritus, and jocund.’ Of course, you will reward him well, your + abbe?” + </p> + <p> + “Undoubtedly he will be made a bishop some day,” said Oscar. + </p> + <p> + “By your family influence?” inquired Georges gravely. + </p> + <p> + “We shall probably contribute to his rise, for the Abbe Frayssinous is + constantly at our house.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! you know the Abbe Frayssinous?” asked the count. + </p> + <p> + “He is under obligations to my father,” answered Oscar. + </p> + <p> + “Are you on your way to your estate?” asked Georges. + </p> + <p> + “No, monsieur; but I am able to say where I am going, if others are not. I + am going to the Chateau de Presles, to the Comte de Serizy.” + </p> + <p> + “The devil! are you going to Presles?” cried Schinner, turning as red as a + cherry. + </p> + <p> + “So you know his Excellency the Comte de Serizy?” said Georges. + </p> + <p> + Pere Leger turned round to look at Oscar with a stupefied air. + </p> + <p> + “Is Monsieur de Serizy at Presles?” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Apparently, as I am going there,” replied Oscar. + </p> + <p> + “Do you often see the count,” asked Monsieur de Serizy. + </p> + <p> + “Often,” replied Oscar. “I am a comrade of his son, who is about my age, + nineteen; we ride together on horseback nearly every day.” + </p> + <p> + “‘Aut Caesar, aut Serizy,’” said Mistigris, sententiously. + </p> + <p> + Pierrotin and Pere Leger exchanged winks on hearing this statement. + </p> + <p> + “Really,” said the count to Oscar, “I am delighted to meet with a young + man who can tell me about that personage. I want his influence on a rather + serious matter, although it would cost him nothing to oblige me. It + concerns a claim I wish to press on the American government. I should be + glad to obtain information about Monsieur de Serizy.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! if you want to succeed,” replied Oscar, with a knowing look, “don’t + go to him, but go to his wife; he is madly in love with her; no one knows + more than I do about that; but she can’t endure him.” + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” said Georges. + </p> + <p> + “The count has a skin disease which makes him hideous. Doctor Albert has + tried in vain to cure it. The count would give half his fortune if he had + a chest like mine,” said Oscar, swelling himself out. “He lives a lonely + life in his own house; gets up very early in the morning and works from + three to eight o’clock; after eight he takes his remedies,—sulphur-baths, + steam-baths, and such things. His valet bakes him in a sort of iron box—for + he is always in hopes of getting cured.” + </p> + <p> + “If he is such a friend of the King as they say he is, why doesn’t he get + his Majesty to touch him?” asked Georges. + </p> + <p> + “The count has lately promised thirty thousand francs to a celebrated + Scotch doctor who is coming over to treat him,” continued Oscar. + </p> + <p> + “Then his wife can’t be blamed if she finds better—” said Schinner, + but he did not finish his sentence. + </p> + <p> + “I should say so!” resumed Oscar. “The poor man is so shrivelled and old + you would take him for eighty! He’s as dry as parchment, and, unluckily + for him, he feels his position.” + </p> + <p> + “Most men would,” said Pere Leger. + </p> + <p> + “He adores his wife and dares not find fault with her,” pursued Oscar, + rejoicing to have found a topic to which they listened. “He plays scenes + with her which would make you die of laughing,—exactly like Arnolphe + in Moliere’s comedy.” + </p> + <p> + The count, horror-stricken, looked at Pierrotin, who, finding that the + count said nothing, concluded that Madame Clapart’s son was telling + falsehoods. + </p> + <p> + “So, monsieur,” continued Oscar, “if you want the count’s influence, I + advise you to apply to the Marquis d’Aiglemont. If you get that former + adorer of Madame de Serizy on your side, you will win husband and wife at + one stroke.” + </p> + <p> + “Look here!” said the painter, “you seem to have seen the count without + his clothes; are you his valet?” + </p> + <p> + “His valet!” cried Oscar. + </p> + <p> + “Hang it! people don’t tell such things about their friends in public + conveyances,” exclaimed Mistigris. “As for me, I’m not listening to you; + I’m deaf: ‘discretion plays the better part of adder.’” + </p> + <p> + “‘A poet is nasty and not fit,’ and so is a tale-bearer,” cried Schinner. + </p> + <p> + “Great painter,” said Georges, sententiously, “learn this: you can’t say + harm of people you don’t know. Now the little one here has proved, + indubitably, that he knows his Serizy by heart. If he had told us about + the countess, perhaps—?” + </p> + <p> + “Stop! not a word about the Comtesse de Serizy, young men,” cried the + count. “I am a friend of her brother, the Marquis de Ronquerolles, and + whoever attempts to speak disparagingly of the countess must answer to + me.” + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur is right,” cried the painter; “no man should blaguer women.” + </p> + <p> + “God, Honor, and the Ladies! I believe in that melodrama,” said Mistigris. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know the guerrilla chieftain, Mina, but I know the Keeper of the + Seals,” continued the count, looking at Georges; “and though I don’t wear + my decorations,” he added, looking at the painter, “I prevent those who do + not deserve them from obtaining any. And finally, let me say that I know + so many persons that I even know Monsieur Grindot, the architect of + Presles. Pierrotin, stop at the next inn; I want to get out a moment.” + </p> + <p> + Pierrotin hurried his horses through the village street of Moisselles, at + the end of which was the inn where all travellers stopped. This short + distance was done in silence. + </p> + <p> + “Where is that young fool going?” asked the count, drawing Pierrotin into + the inn-yard. + </p> + <p> + “To your steward. He is the son of a poor lady who lives in the rue de la + Cerisaie, to whom I often carry fruit, and game, and poultry from Presles. + She is a Madame Husson.” + </p> + <p> + “Who is that man?” inquired Pere Leger of Pierrotin when the count had + left him. + </p> + <p> + “Faith, I don’t know,” replied Pierrotin; “this is the first time I have + driven him. I shouldn’t be surprised if he was that prince who owns + Maffliers. He has just told me to leave him on the road near there; he + doesn’t want to go on to Isle-Adam.” + </p> + <p> + “Pierrotin thinks he is the master of Maffliers,” said Pere Leger, + addressing Georges when he got back into the coach. + </p> + <p> + The three young fellows were now as dull as thieves caught in the act; + they dared not look at each other, and were evidently considering the + consequences of their fibs. + </p> + <p> + “This is what is called ‘suffering for license sake,’” said Mistigris. + </p> + <p> + “You see I did know the count,” said Oscar. + </p> + <p> + “Possibly. But you’ll never be an ambassador,” replied Georges. “When + people want to talk in public conveyances, they ought to be careful, like + me, to talk without saying anything.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s what speech is for,” remarked Mistigris, by way of conclusion. + </p> + <p> + The count returned to his seat and the coucou rolled on amid the deepest + silence. + </p> + <p> + “Well, my friends,” said the count, when they reached the Carreau woods, + “here we all are, as silent as if we were going to the scaffold.” + </p> + <p> + “‘Silence gives content,’” muttered Mistigris. + </p> + <p> + “The weather is fine,” said Georges. + </p> + <p> + “What place is that?” said Oscar, pointing to the chateau de Franconville, + which produces a fine effect at that particular spot, backed, as it is, by + the noble forest of Saint-Martin. + </p> + <p> + “How is it,” cried the count, “that you, who say you go so often to + Presles, do not know Franconville?” + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur knows men, not castles,” said Mistigris. + </p> + <p> + “Budding diplomatists have so much else to take their minds,” remarked + Georges. + </p> + <p> + “Be so good as to remember my name,” replied Oscar, furious. “I am Oscar + Husson, and ten years hence I shall be famous.” + </p> + <p> + After that speech, uttered with bombastic assumption, Oscar flung himself + back in his corner. + </p> + <p> + “Husson of what, of where?” asked Mistigris. + </p> + <p> + “It is a great family,” replied the count. “Husson de la Cerisaie; + monsieur was born beneath the steps of the Imperial throne.” + </p> + <p> + Oscar colored crimson to the roots of his hair, and was penetrated through + and through with a dreadful foreboding. + </p> + <p> + They were now about to descend the steep hill of La Cave, at the foot of + which, in a narrow valley, flanked by the forest of Saint-Martin, stands + the magnificent chateau of Presles. + </p> + <p> + “Messieurs,” said the count, “I wish you every good fortune in your + various careers. Monsieur le colonel, make your peace with the King of + France; the Czerni-Georges ought not to snub the Bourbons. I have nothing + to wish for you, my dear Monsieur Schinner; your fame is already won, and + nobly won by splendid work. But you are much to be feared in domestic + life, and I, being a married man, dare not invite you to my house. As for + Monsieur Husson, he needs no protection; he possesses the secrets of + statesmen and can make them tremble. Monsieur Leger is about to pluck the + Comte de Serizy, and I can only exhort him to do it with a firm hand. + Pierrotin, put me out here, and pick me up at the same place to-morrow,” + added the count, who then left the coach and took a path through the + woods, leaving his late companions confused and bewildered. + </p> + <p> + “He must be that count who has hired Franconville; that’s the path to it,” + said Leger. + </p> + <p> + “If ever again,” said the false Schinner, “I am caught blague-ing in a + public coach, I’ll fight a duel with myself. It was your fault, + Mistigris,” giving his rapin a tap on the head. + </p> + <p> + “All I did was to help you out, and follow you to Venice,” said Mistigris; + “but that’s always the way, ‘Fortune belabors the slave.’” + </p> + <p> + “Let me tell you,” said Georges to his neighbor Oscar, “that if, by + chance, that was the Comte de Serizy, I wouldn’t be in your skin for a + good deal, healthy as you think it.” + </p> + <p> + Oscar, remembering his mother’s injunctions, which these words recalled to + his mind, turned pale and came to his senses. + </p> + <p> + “Here you are, messieurs!” cried Pierrotin, pulling up at a fine iron + gate. + </p> + <p> + “Here we are—where?” said the painter, and Georges, and Oscar all at + once. + </p> + <p> + “Well, well!” exclaimed Pierrotin, “if that doesn’t beat all! Ah ca, + monsieurs, have none of you been here before? Why, this is the chateau de + Presles.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes; all right, friend,” said Georges, recovering his audacity. “But + I happen to be going on to Les Moulineaux,” he added, not wishing his + companions to know that he was really going to the chateau. + </p> + <p> + “You don’t say so? Then you are coming to me,” said Pere Leger. + </p> + <p> + “How so?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, I’m the farmer at Moulineaux. Hey, colonel, what brings you there?” + </p> + <p> + “To taste your butter,” said Georges, pulling out his portfolio. + </p> + <p> + “Pierrotin,” said Oscar, “leave my things at the steward’s. I am going + straight to the chateau.” + </p> + <p> + Whereupon Oscar plunged into a narrow path, not knowing, in the least, + where he was going. + </p> + <p> + “Hi! Monsieur l’ambassadeur,” cried Pere Leger, “that’s the way to the + forest; if you really want to get to the chateau, go through the little + gate.” + </p> + <p> + Thus compelled to enter, Oscar disappeared into the grand court-yard. + While Pere Leger stood watching Oscar, Georges, utterly confounded by the + discovery that the farmer was the present occupant of Les Moulineaux, has + slipped away so adroitly that when the fat countryman looked round for his + colonel there was no sign of him. + </p> + <p> + The iron gates opened at Pierrotin’s demand, and he proudly drove in to + deposit with the concierge the thousand and one utensils belonging to the + great Schinner. Oscar was thunderstruck when he became aware that + Mistigris and his master, the witnesses of his bravado, were to be + installed in the chateau itself. In ten minutes Pierrotin had discharged + the various packages of the painter, the bundles of Oscar Husson, and the + pretty little leather portmanteau, which he took from its nest of hay and + confided mysteriously to the wife of the concierge. Then he drove out of + the courtyard, cracking his whip, and took the road that led through the + forest to Isle-Adam, his face beaming with the sly expression of a peasant + who calculates his profits. Nothing was lacking now to his happiness; on + the morrow he would have his thousand francs, and, as a consequence, his + magnificent new coach. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VI. THE MOREAU INTERIOR + </h2> + <p> + Oscar, somewhat abashed, was skulking behind a clump of trees in the + centre of the court-yard, and watching to see what became of his two + road-companions, when Monsieur Moreau suddenly came out upon the portico + from what was called the guard-room. He was dressed in a long blue + overcoat which came to his heels, breeches of yellowish leather and + top-boots, and in his hand he carried a riding-whip. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! my boy, so here you are? How is the dear mamma?” he said, taking + Oscar by the hand. “Good-day, messieurs,” he added to Mistigris and his + master, who then came forward. “You are, no doubt, the two painters whom + Monsieur Grindot, the architect, told me to expect.” + </p> + <p> + He whistled twice at the end of his whip; the concierge came. + </p> + <p> + “Take these gentlemen to rooms 14 and 15. Madame Moreau will give you the + keys. Go with them to show the way; make fires there, if necessary, and + take up all their things. I have orders from Monsieur le comte,” he added, + addressing the two young men, “to invite you to my table, messieurs; we + dine at five, as in Paris. If you like hunting, you will find plenty to + amuse you; I have a license from the Eaux et Forets; and we hunt over + twelve thousand acres of forest, not counting our own domain.” + </p> + <p> + Oscar, the painter, and Mistigris, all more or less subdued, exchanged + glances, but Mistigris, faithful to himself, remarked in a low tone, + “‘Veni, vidi, cecidi,—I came, I saw, I slaughtered.’” + </p> + <p> + Oscar followed the steward, who led him along at a rapid pace through the + park. + </p> + <p> + “Jacques,” said Moreau to one of his children whom they met, “run in and + tell your mother that little Husson has come, and say to her that I am + obliged to go to Les Moulineaux for a moment.” + </p> + <p> + The steward, then about fifty years old, was a dark man of medium height, + and seemed stern. His bilious complexion, to which country habits had + added a certain violent coloring, conveyed, at first sight, the impression + of a nature which was other than his own. His blue eyes and a large + crow-beaked nose gave him an air that was the more threatening because his + eyes were placed too close together. But his large lips, the outline of + his face, and the easy good-humor of his manner soon showed that his + nature was a kindly one. Abrupt in speech and decided in tone, he + impressed Oscar immensely by the force of his penetration, inspired, no + doubt, by the affection which he felt for the boy. Trained by his mother + to magnify the steward, Oscar had always felt himself very small in + Moreau’s presence; but on reaching Presles a new sensation came over him, + as if he expected some harm from this fatherly figure, his only protector. + </p> + <p> + “Well, my Oscar, you don’t look pleased at getting here,” said the + steward. “And yet you’ll find plenty of amusement; you shall learn to ride + on horseback, and shoot, and hunt.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know any of those things,” said Oscar, stupidly. + </p> + <p> + “But I brought you here to learn them.” + </p> + <p> + “Mamma told me only to stay two weeks because of Madame Moreau.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! we’ll see about that,” replied Moreau, rather wounded that his + conjugal authority was doubted. + </p> + <p> + Moreau’s youngest son, an active, strapping lad of twelve, here ran up. + </p> + <p> + “Come,” said his father, “take Oscar to your mother.” + </p> + <p> + He himself went rapidly along the shortest path to the gamekeeper’s house, + which was situated between the park and the forest. + </p> + <p> + The pavilion, or lodge, in which the count had established his steward, + was built a few years before the Revolution. It stood in the centre of a + large garden, one wall of which adjoined the court-yard of the stables and + offices of the chateau itself. Formerly its chief entrance was on the main + road to the village. But after the count’s father bought the building, he + closed that entrance and united the place with his own property. + </p> + <p> + The house, built of freestone, in the style of the period of Louis XV. (it + is enough to say that its exterior decoration consisted of a stone drapery + beneath the windows, as in the colonnades of the Place Louis XV., the + flutings of which were stiff and ungainly), had on the ground-floor a fine + salon opening into a bedroom, and a dining-room connected with a + billiard-room. These rooms, lying parallel to one another, were separated + by a staircase, in front of which was a sort of peristyle which formed an + entrance-hall, on which the two suits of rooms on either side opened. The + kitchen was beneath the dining-room, for the whole building was raised ten + steps from the ground level. + </p> + <p> + By placing her own bedroom on the first floor above the ground-floor, + Madame Moreau was able to transform the chamber adjoining the salon into a + boudoir. These two rooms were richly furnished with beautiful pieces + culled from the rare old furniture of the chateau. The salon, hung with + blue and white damask, formerly the curtains of the state-bed, was draped + with ample portieres and window curtains lined with white silk. Pictures, + evidently from old panels, plant-stands, various pretty articles of modern + upholstery, handsome lamps, and a rare old cut-glass chandelier, gave a + grandiose appearance to the room. The carpet was a Persian rug. The + boudoir, wholly modern, and furnished entirely after Madame Moreau’s own + taste, was arranged in imitation of a tent, with ropes of blue silk on a + gray background. The classic divan was there, of course, with its pillows + and footstools. The plant-stands, taken care of by the head-gardener of + Presles, rejoiced the eye with their pyramids of bloom. The dining-room + and billiard-room were furnished in mahogany. + </p> + <p> + Around the house the steward’s wife had laid out a beautiful garden, + carefully cultivated, which opened into the great park. Groups of choice + parks hid the offices and stables. To improve the entrance by which + visitors came to see her, she had substituted a handsome iron gateway for + the shabby railing, which she discarded. + </p> + <p> + The dependence in which the situation of their dwelling placed the + Moreaus, was thus adroitly concealed, and they seemed all the more like + rich and independent persons taking care of the property of a friend, + because neither the count nor the countess ever came to Presles to take + down their pretensions. Moreover, the perquisites granted by Monsieur de + Serizy allowed them to live in the midst of that abundance which is the + luxury of country life. Milk, eggs, poultry, game, fruits, flowers, + forage, vegetables, wood, the steward and his wife used in profusion, + buying absolutely nothing but butcher’s-meat, wines, and the colonial + supplies required by their life of luxury. The poultry-maid baked their + bread; and of late years Moreau had paid his butcher with pigs from the + farm, after reserving those he needed for his own use. + </p> + <p> + On one occasion, the countess, always kind and good to her former maid, + gave her, as a souvenir perhaps, a little travelling-carriage, the fashion + of which was out of date. Moreau had it repainted, and now drove his wife + about the country with two good horses which belonged to the farm. Besides + these horses, Moreau had his own saddle-horse. He did enough farming on + the count’s property to keep the horses and maintain his servants. He + stacked three hundred tons of excellent hay, but accounted for only one + hundred, making use of a vague permission once granted by the count. He + kept his poultry-yard, pigeon-cotes, and cattle at the cost of the estate, + but the manure of the stables was used by the count’s gardeners. All these + little stealings had some ostensible excuse. + </p> + <p> + Madame Moreau had taken into her service a daughter of one of the + gardeners, who was first her maid and afterwards her cook. The + poultry-game, also the dairy-maid, assisted in the work of the household; + and the steward had hired a discharged soldier to groom the horses and do + the heavy labor. + </p> + <p> + At Nerville, Chaumont, Maffliers, Nointel, and other places of the + neighborhood, the handsome wife of the steward was received by persons who + either did not know, or pretended not to know her previous condition. + Moreau did services to many persons. He induced his master to agree to + certain things which seem trifles in Paris, but are really of immense + importance in the country. After bringing about the appointment of a + certain “juge de paix” at Beaumont and also at Isle-Adam, he had, in the + same year, prevented the dismissal of a keeper-general of the Forests, and + obtained the cross of the Legion of honor for the first cavalry-sergeant + at Beaumont. Consequently, no festivity was ever given among the + bourgeoisie to which Monsieur and Madame Moreau were not invited. The + rector of Presles and the mayor of Presles came every evening to play + cards with them. It is difficult for a man not to be kind and hospitable + after feathering his nest so comfortably. + </p> + <p> + A pretty woman, and an affected one, as all retired waiting-maids of great + ladies are, for after they are married they imitate their mistresses, + Madame Moreau imported from Paris all the new fashions. She wore expensive + boots, and never was seen on foot, except, occasionally, in the finest + weather. Though her husband allowed but five hundred francs a year for her + toilet, that sum is immense in the provinces, especially if well laid out. + So that Madame Moreau, fair, rosy, and fresh, about thirty-six years of + age, still slender and delicate in shape in spite of her three children, + played the young girl and gave herself the airs of a princess. If, when + she drove by in her caleche, some stranger had asked, “Who is she?” Madame + Moreau would have been furious had she heard the reply: “The wife of the + steward at Presles.” She wished to be taken for the mistress of the + chateau. In the villages, she patronized the people in the tone of a great + lady. The influence of her husband over the count, proved in so many + years, prevented the small bourgeoisie from laughing at Madame Moreau, + who, in the eyes of the peasants, was really a personage. + </p> + <p> + Estelle (her name was Estelle) took no more part in the affairs of the + stewardship then the wife of a broker does in her husband’s affairs at the + Bourse. She even depended on Moreau for the care of the household and + their own fortune. Confident of his <i>means</i>, she was a thousand + leagues from dreaming that this comfortable existence, which had lasted + for seventeen years, could ever be endangered. And yet, when she heard of + the count’s determination to restore the magnificent chateau, she felt + that her enjoyments were threatened, and she urged her husband to come to + the arrangement with Leger about Les Moulineaux, so that they might retire + from Presles and live at Isle-Adam. She had no intention of returning to a + position that was more or less that of a servant in presence of her former + mistress, who, indeed, would have laughed to see her established in the + lodge with all the airs and graces of a woman of the world. + </p> + <p> + The rancorous enmity which existed between the Reyberts and the Moreaus + came from a wound inflicted by Madame de Reybert upon Madame Moreau on the + first occasion when the latter assumed precedence over the former on her + first arrival at Presles, the wife of the steward being determined not to + allow her supremacy to be undermined by a woman nee de Corroy. Madame de + Reybert thereupon reminded, or, perhaps, informed the whole country-side + of Madame Moreau’s former station. The words “waiting-maid” flew from lip + to lip. The envious acquaintances of the Moreaus throughout the + neighborhood from Beaumont to Moisselles, began to carp and criticize with + such eagerness that a few sparks of the conflagration fell into the Moreau + household. For four years the Reyberts, cut dead by the handsome Estelle, + found themselves the objects of so much animadversion on the part of the + adherents of the Moreaus that their position at Presles would not have + been endurable without the thought of vengeance which had, so far, + supported them. + </p> + <p> + The Moreaus, who were very friendly with Grindot the architect, had + received notice from him of the early arrival of the two painters sent + down to finish the decorations of the chateau, the principal paintings for + which were just completed by Schinner. The great painter had recommended + for this work the artist who was accompanied by Mistigris. For two days + past Madame Moreau had been on the tiptoe of expectation, and had put + herself under arms to receive him. An artist, who was to be her guest and + companion for weeks, demanded some effort. Schinner and his wife had their + own apartment at the chateau, where, by the count’s express orders, they + were treated with all the consideration due to himself. Grindot, who + stayed at the steward’s house, showed such respect for the great artist + that neither the steward nor his wife had attempted to put themselves on + familiar terms with him. Moreover, the noblest and richest people in the + surrounding country had vied with each other in paying attention to + Schinner and his wife. So, very well pleased to have, as it were, a little + revenge of her own, Madame Moreau was determined to cry up the artist she + was now expecting, and to present him to her social circle as equal in + talent to the great Schinner. + </p> + <p> + Though for two days past Moreau’s pretty wife had arrayed herself + coquettishly, the prettiest of her toilets had been reserved for this very + Saturday, when, as she felt no doubt, the artist would arrive for dinner. + A pink gown in very narrow stripes, a pink belt with a richly chased gold + buckle, a velvet ribbon and cross at her throat, and velvet bracelets on + her bare arms (Madame de Serizy had handsome arms and showed them much), + together with bronze kid shoes and thread stockings, gave Madame Moreau + all the appearance of an elegant Parisian. She wore, also, a superb bonnet + of Leghorn straw, trimmed with a bunch of moss roses from Nattier’s, + beneath the spreading sides of which rippled the curls of her beautiful + blond hair. + </p> + <p> + After ordering a very choice dinner and reviewing the condition of her + rooms, she walked about the grounds, so as to be seen standing near a + flower-bed in the court-yard of the chateau, like the mistress of the + house, on the arrival of the coach from Paris. She held above her head a + charming rose-colored parasol lined with white silk and fringed. Seeing + that Pierrotin merely left Mistigris’s queer packages with the concierge, + having, apparently, brought no passengers, Estelle retired disappointed + and regretting the trouble of making her useless toilet. Like many persons + who are dressed in their best, she felt incapable of any other occupation + than that of sitting idly in her salon awaiting the coach from Beaumont, + which usually passed about an hour after that of Pierrotin, though it did + not leave Paris till mid-day. She was, therefore, in her own apartment + when the two artists walked up to the chateau, and were sent by Moreau + himself to their rooms where they made their regulation toilet for dinner. + The pair had asked questions of their guide, the gardener, who told them + so much of Moreau’s beauty that they felt the necessity of “rigging + themselves up” (studio slang). They, therefore, put on their most + superlative suits and then walked over to the steward’s lodge, piloted by + Jacques Moreau, the eldest son, a hardy youth, dressed like an English boy + in a handsome jacket with a turned-over collar, who was spending his + vacation like a fish in water on the estate where his father and mother + reigned as aristocrats. + </p> + <p> + “Mamma,” he said, “here are the two artists sent down by Monsieur + Schinner.” + </p> + <p> + Madame Moreau, agreeably surprised, rose, told her son to place chairs, + and began to display her graces. + </p> + <p> + “Mamma, the Husson boy is with papa,” added the lad; “shall I fetch him?” + </p> + <p> + “You need not hurry; go and play with him,” said his mother. + </p> + <p> + The remark “you need not hurry” proved to the two artists the unimportance + of their late travelling companion in the eyes of their hostess; but it + also showed, what they did not know, the feeling of a step-mother against + a step-son. Madame Moreau, after seventeen years of married life, could + not be ignorant of the steward’s attachment to Madame Clapart and the + little Husson, and she hated both mother and child so vehemently that it + is not surprising that Moreau had never before risked bringing Oscar to + Presles. + </p> + <p> + “We are requested, my husband and myself,” she said to the two artists, + “to do you the honors of the chateau. We both love art, and, above all, + artists,” she added in a mincing tone; “and I beg you to make yourselves + at home here. In the country, you know, every one should be at their ease; + one must feel wholly at liberty, or life is <i>too</i> insipid. We have + already had Monsieur Schinner with us.” + </p> + <p> + Mistigris gave a sly glance at his companion. + </p> + <p> + “You know him, of course?” continued Estelle, after a slight pause. + </p> + <p> + “Who does not know him, madame?” said the painter. + </p> + <p> + “Knows him like his double,” remarked Mistigris. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur Grindot told me your name,” said Madame Moreau to the painter. + “But—” + </p> + <p> + “Joseph Bridau,” he replied, wondering with what sort of woman he had to + do. + </p> + <p> + Mistigris began to rebel internally against the patronizing manner of the + steward’s wife; but he waited, like Bridau, for some word which might give + him his cue; one of those words “de singe a dauphin” which artists, cruel, + born-observers of the ridiculous—the pabulum of their pencils—seize + with such avidity. Meantime Estelle’s clumsy hands and feet struck their + eyes, and presently a word, or phrase or two, betrayed her past, and quite + out of keeping with the elegance of her dress, made the two young fellows + aware of their prey. A single glance at each other was enough to arrange a + scheme that they should take Estelle seriously on her own ground, and thus + find amusement enough during the time of their stay. + </p> + <p> + “You say you love art, madame; perhaps you cultivate it successfully,” + said Joseph Bridau. + </p> + <p> + “No. Without being neglected, my education was purely commercial; but I + have so profound and delicate a sense of art that Monsieur Schinner always + asked me, when he had finished a piece of work, to give him my opinion on + it.” + </p> + <p> + “Just as Moliere consulted La Foret,” said Mistigris. + </p> + <p> + Not knowing that La Foret was Moliere’s servant-woman, Madame Moreau + inclined her head graciously, showing that in her ignorance she accepted + the speech as a compliment. + </p> + <p> + “Didn’t he propose to ‘croquer’ you?” asked Bridau. “Painters are eager + enough after handsome women.” + </p> + <p> + “What may you mean by such language?” + </p> + <p> + “In the studios we say croquer, craunch, nibble, for sketching,” + interposed Mistigris, with an insinuating air, “and we are always wanting + to croquer beautiful heads. That’s the origin of the expression, ‘She is + pretty enough to eat.’” + </p> + <p> + “I was not aware of the origin of the term,” she replied, with the + sweetest glance at Mistigris. + </p> + <p> + “My pupil here,” said Bridau, “Monsieur Leon de Lora, shows a remarkable + talent for portraiture. He would be too happy, I know, to leave you a + souvenir of our stay by painting your charming head, madame.” + </p> + <p> + Joseph Bridau made a sign to Mistigris which meant: “Come, sail in, and + push the matter; she is not so bad in looks, this woman.” + </p> + <p> + Accepting the glance, Leon de Lora slid down upon the sofa beside Estelle + and took her hand, which she permitted. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! madame, if you would like to offer a surprise to your husband, and + will give me a few secret sittings I would endeavor to surpass myself. You + are so beautiful, so fresh, so charming! A man without any talent might + become a genius in painting you. He would draw from your eyes—” + </p> + <p> + “We must paint your dear children in the arabesques,” said Bridau, + interrupting Mistigris. + </p> + <p> + “I would rather have them in the salon; but perhaps I am indiscreet in + asking it,” she replied, looking at Bridau coquettishly. + </p> + <p> + “Beauty, madame, is a sovereign whom all painters worship; it has + unlimited claims upon them.” + </p> + <p> + “They are both charming,” thought Madame Moreau. “Do you enjoy driving? + Shall I take you through the woods, after dinner, in my carriage?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! oh! oh!” cried Mistigris, in three ecstatic tones. “Why, Presles will + prove our terrestrial paradise.” + </p> + <p> + “With an Eve, a fair, young, fascinating woman,” added Bridau. + </p> + <p> + Just as Madame Moreau was bridling, and soaring to the seventh heaven, she + was recalled like a kite by a twitch at its line. + </p> + <p> + “Madame!” cried her maid-servant, bursting into the room. + </p> + <p> + “Rosalie,” said her mistress, “who allowed you to come here without being + sent for?” + </p> + <p> + Rosalie paid no heed to the rebuke, but whispered in her mistress’s ear:— + </p> + <p> + “The count is at the chateau.” + </p> + <p> + “Has he asked for me?” said the steward’s wife. + </p> + <p> + “No, madame; but he wants his trunk and the key of his apartment.” + </p> + <p> + “Then give them to him,” she replied, making an impatient gesture to hide + her real trouble. + </p> + <p> + “Mamma! here’s Oscar Husson,” said her youngest son, bringing in Oscar, + who turned as red as a poppy on seeing the two artists in evening dress. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! so you have come, my little Oscar,” said Estelle, stiffly. “I hope + you will now go and dress,” she added, after looking at him contemptuously + from head to foot. “Your mother, I presume, has not accustomed you to dine + in such clothes as those.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” cried the cruel Mistigris, “a future diplomatist knows the saying + that ‘two coats are better than none.’” + </p> + <p> + “How do you mean, a future diplomatist?” exclaimed Madame Moreau. + </p> + <p> + Poor Oscar had tears in his eyes as he looked in turn from Joseph to Leon. + </p> + <p> + “Merely a joke made in travelling,” replied Joseph, who wanted to save + Oscar’s feelings out of pity. + </p> + <p> + “The boy just wanted to be funny like the rest of us, and he blagued, + that’s all,” said Mistigris. + </p> + <p> + “Madame,” said Rosalie, returning to the door of the salon, “his + Excellency has ordered dinner for eight, and wants it served at six + o’clock. What are we to do?” + </p> + <p> + During Estelle’s conference with her head-woman the two artists and Oscar + looked at each other in consternation; their glances were expressive of + terrible apprehension. + </p> + <p> + “His Excellency! who is he?” said Joseph Bridau. + </p> + <p> + “Why, Monsieur le Comte de Serizy, of course,” replied little Moreau. + </p> + <p> + “Could it have been the count in the coucou?” said Leon de Lora. + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” exclaimed Oscar, “the Comte de Serizy always travels in his own + carriage with four horses.” + </p> + <p> + “How did the Comte de Serizy get here?” said the painter to Madame Moreau, + when she returned, much discomfited, to the salon. + </p> + <p> + “I am sure I do not know,” she said. “I cannot explain to myself this + sudden arrival; nor do I know what has brought him—And Moreau not + here!” + </p> + <p> + “His Excellency wishes Monsieur Schinner to come over to the chateau,” + said the gardener, coming to the door of the salon. “And he begs Monsieur + Schinner to give him the pleasure to dine with him; also Monsieur + Mistigris.” + </p> + <p> + “Done for!” cried the rapin, laughing. “He whom we took for a bourgeois in + the coucou was the count. You may well say: ‘Sour are the curses of + perversity.’” + </p> + <p> + Oscar was very nearly changed to a pillar of salt; for, at this + revelation, his throat felt saltier than the sea. + </p> + <p> + “And you, who talked to him about his wife’s lovers and his skin + diseases!” said Mistigris, turning on Oscar. + </p> + <p> + “What does he mean?” exclaimed the steward’s wife, gazing after the two + artists, who went away laughing at the expression of Oscar’s face. + </p> + <p> + Oscar remained dumb, confounded, stupefied, hearing nothing, though Madame + Moreau questioned him and shook him violently by his arm, which she caught + and squeezed. She gained nothing, however, and was forced to leave him in + the salon without an answer, for Rosalie appeared again, to ask for linen + and silver, and to beg she would go herself and see that the multiplied + orders of the count were executed. All the household, together with the + gardeners and the concierge and his wife, were going and coming in a + confusion that may readily be imagined. The master had fallen upon his own + house like a bombshell. + </p> + <p> + From the top of the hill near La Cave, where he left the coach, the count + had gone, by the path through the woods well-known to him, to the house of + his gamekeeper. The keeper was amazed when he saw his real master. + </p> + <p> + “Is Moreau here?” said the count. “I see his horse.” + </p> + <p> + “No, monseigneur; he means to go to Moulineaux before dinner, and he has + left his horse here while he went to the chateau to give a few orders.” + </p> + <p> + “If you value your place,” said the count, “you will take that horse and + ride at once to Beaumont, where you will deliver to Monsieur Margueron the + note that I shall now write.” + </p> + <p> + So saying the count entered the keeper’s lodge and wrote a line, folding + it in a way impossible to open without detection, and gave it to the man + as soon as he saw him in the saddle. + </p> + <p> + “Not a word to any one,” he said, “and as for you, madame,” he added to + the gamekeeper’s wife, “if Moreau comes back for his horse, tell him + merely that I have taken it.” + </p> + <p> + The count then crossed the park and entered the court-yard of the chateau + through the iron gates. However worn-out a man may be by the wear and tear + of public life, by his own emotions, by his own mistakes and + disappointments, the soul of any man able to love deeply at the count’s + age is still young and sensitive to treachery. Monsieur de Serizy had felt + such pain at the thought that Moreau had deceived him, that even after + hearing the conversation at Saint-Brice he thought him less an accomplice + of Leger and the notary than their tool. On the threshold of the inn, and + while that conversation was still going on, he thought of pardoning his + steward after giving him a good reproof. Strange to say, the dishonesty of + his confidential agent occupied his mind as a mere episode from the moment + when Oscar revealed his infirmities. Secrets so carefully guarded could + only have been revealed by Moreau, who had, no doubt, laughed over the + hidden troubles of his benefactor with either Madame de Serizy’s former + maid or with the Aspasia of the Directory. + </p> + <p> + As he walked along the wood-path, this peer of France, this statesman, + wept as young men weep; he wept his last tears. All human feelings were so + cruelly hurt by one stroke that the usually calm man staggered through his + park like a wounded deer. + </p> + <p> + When Moreau arrived at the gamekeeper’s lodge and asked for his horse, the + keeper’s wife replied:— + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur le comte has just taken it.” + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur le comte!” cried Moreau. “Whom do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, the Comte de Serizy, our master,” she replied. “He is probably at + the chateau by this time,” she added, anxious to be rid of the steward, + who, unable to understand the meaning of her words, turned back towards + the chateau. + </p> + <p> + But he presently turned again and came back to the lodge, intending to + question the woman more closely; for he began to see something serious in + this secret arrival, and the apparently strange method of his master’s + return. But the wife of the gamekeeper, alarmed to find herself caught in + a vise between the count and his steward, had locked herself into the + house, resolved not to open to any but her husband. Moreau, more and more + uneasy, ran rapidly, in spite of his boots and spurs, to the chateau, + where he was told that the count was dressing. + </p> + <p> + “Seven persons invited to dinner!” cried Rosalie as soon as she saw him. + </p> + <p> + Moreau then went through the offices to his own house. On his way he met + the poultry-girl, who was having an altercation with a handsome young man. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur le comte particularly told me a colonel, an aide-de-camp of + Mina,” insisted the girl. + </p> + <p> + “I am not a colonel,” replied Georges. + </p> + <p> + “But isn’t your name Georges?” + </p> + <p> + “What’s all this?” said the steward, intervening. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur, my name is Georges Marest; I am the son of a rich wholesale + ironmonger in the rue Saint-Martin; I come on business to Monsieur le + Comte de Serizy from Maitre Crottat, a notary, whose second clerk I am.” + </p> + <p> + “And I,” said the girl, “am telling him that monseigneur said to me: + ‘There’ll come a colonel named Czerni-Georges, aide-de-camp to Mina; he’ll + come by Pierrotin’s coach; if he asks for me show him into the + waiting-room.’” + </p> + <p> + “Evidently,” said the clerk, “the count is a traveller who came down with + us in Pierrotin’s coucou; if it hadn’t been for the politeness of a young + man he’d have come as a rabbit.” + </p> + <p> + “A rabbit! in Pierrotin’s coucou!” exclaimed Moreau and the poultry-girl + together. + </p> + <p> + “I am sure of it, from what this girl is now saying,” said Georges. + </p> + <p> + “How so?” asked the steward. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! that’s the point,” cried the clerk. “To hoax the travellers and have + a bit of fun I told them a lot of stuff about Egypt and Greece and Spain. + As I happened to be wearing spurs I have myself out for a colonel of + cavalry: pure nonsense!” + </p> + <p> + “Tell me,” said Moreau, “what did this traveller you take to be Monsieur + le comte look like?” + </p> + <p> + “Face like a brick,” said Georges, “hair snow-white, and black eyebrows.” + </p> + <p> + “That is he!” + </p> + <p> + “Then I’m lost!” exclaimed Georges. + </p> + <p> + “Why?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I chaffed him about his decorations.” + </p> + <p> + “Pooh! he’s a good fellow; you probably amused him. Come at once to the + chateau. I’ll go in and see his Excellency. Where did you say he left the + coach?” + </p> + <p> + “At the top of the mountain.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know what to make of it!” + </p> + <p> + “After all,” thought Georges, “though I did blague him, I didn’t say + anything insulting.” + </p> + <p> + “Why have you come here?” asked the steward. + </p> + <p> + “I have brought the deed of sale for the farm at Moulineaux, all ready for + signature.” + </p> + <p> + “Good heavens!” exclaimed the steward, “I don’t understand one word of all + this!” + </p> + <p> + Moreau felt his heart beat painfully when, after giving two raps on his + master’s door, he heard the words:— + </p> + <p> + “Is that you, <i>Monsieur</i> Moreau?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, monseigneur.” + </p> + <p> + “Come in.” + </p> + <p> + The count was now wearing a pair of white trousers and thin boots, a white + waistcoat and a black coat on which shone the grand cross of the Legion + upon the right breast, and fastened to a buttonhole on the left was the + order of the Golden Fleece hanging by a short gold chain. He had arranged + his hair himself, and had, no doubt, put himself in full dress to do the + honors of Presles to Monsieur Margueron; and, possibly, to impress the + good man’s mind with a prestige of grandeur. + </p> + <p> + “Well, monsieur,” said the count, who remained seated, leaving Moreau to + stand before him. “We have not concluded that purchase from Margueron.” + </p> + <p> + “He asks too much for the farm at the present moment.” + </p> + <p> + “But why is he not coming to dinner as I requested?” + </p> + <p> + “Monseigneur, he is ill.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you sure?” + </p> + <p> + “I have just come from there.” + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur,” said the count, with a stern air which was really terrible, + “what would you do with a man whom you trusted, if, after seeing you dress + wounds which you desired to keep secret from all the world, he should + reveal your misfortunes and laugh at your malady with a strumpet?” + </p> + <p> + “I would thrash him for it.” + </p> + <p> + “And if you discovered that he was also betraying your confidence and + robbing you?” + </p> + <p> + “I should endeavor to detect him, and send him to the galleys.” + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur Moreau, listen to me. You have undoubtedly spoken of my + infirmities to Madame Clapart; you have laughed at her house, and with + her, over my attachment to the Comtesse de Serizy; for her son, little + Husson, told a number of circumstances relating to my medical treatment, + to travellers by a public conveyance in my presence, and Heaven knows in + what language! He dared to calumniate my wife. Besides this, I learned + from the lips of Pere Leger himself, who was in the coach, of the plan + laid by the notary at Beaumont and by you and by himself in relation to + Les Moulineaux. If you have been, as you say, to Monsieur Margueron, it + was to tell him to feign illness. He is so little ill that he is coming + here to dinner this evening. Now, monsieur, I could pardon you having made + two hundred and fifty thousand francs out of your situation in seventeen + years,—I can understand that. You might each time have asked me for + what you took, and I would have given it to you; but let that pass. You + have been, notwithstanding this disloyalty, better than others, as I + believe. But that you, who knew my toil for our country, for France, you + have seen me giving night after night to the Emperor’s service, and + working eighteen hours of each twenty-four for months together, you who + knew my love for Madame de Serizy,—that you should have gossiped + about me before a boy! holding up my secrets and my affections to the + ridicule of a Madame Husson!—” + </p> + <p> + “Monseigneur!” + </p> + <p> + “It is unpardonable. To injure a man’s interest, why, that is nothing; but + to stab his heart!—Oh! you do not know what you have done!” + </p> + <p> + The count put his head in his hands and was silent for some moments. + </p> + <p> + “I leave you what you have gained,” he said after a time, “and I shall + forget you. For my sake, for my dignity, and for your honor, we will part + decently; for I cannot but remember even now what your father did for + mine. You will explain the duties of the stewardship in a proper manner to + Monsieur de Reybert, who succeeds you. Be calm, as I am. Give no + opportunity for fools to talk. Above all, let there be no recrimination or + petty meanness. Though you no longer possess my confidence, endeavor to + behave with the decorum of well-bred persons. As for that miserable boy + who has wounded me to death, I will not have him sleep at Presles; send + him to the inn; I will not answer for my own temper if I see him.” + </p> + <p> + “I do not deserve such gentleness, monseigneur,” said Moreau, with tears + in his eyes. “Yes, you are right; if I had been utterly dishonest I should + now be worth five hundred thousand francs instead of half that sum. I + offer to give you an account of my fortune, with all its details. But let + me tell you, monseigneur, that in talking of you with Madame Clapart, it + was never in derision; but, on the contrary, to deplore your state, and to + ask her for certain remedies, not used by physicians, but known to the + common people. I spoke of your feelings before the boy, who was in his bed + and, as I supposed, asleep (it seems he must have been awake and listening + to us), with the utmost affection and respect. Alas! fate wills that + indiscretions be punished like crimes. But while accepting the results of + your just anger, I wish you to know what actually took place. It was, + indeed, from heart to heart that I spoke of you to Madame Clapart. As for + my wife, I have never said one word of these things—” + </p> + <p> + “Enough,” said the count, whose conviction was now complete; “we are not + children. All is now irrevocable. Put your affairs and mine in order. You + can stay in the pavilion until October. Monsieur and Madame de Reybert + will lodge for the present in the chateau; endeavor to keep on terms with + them, like well-bred persons who hate each other, but still keep up + appearances.” + </p> + <p> + The count and Moreau went downstairs; Moreau white as the count’s hair, + the count himself calm and dignified. + </p> + <p> + During the time this interview lasted the Beaumont coach, which left Paris + at one o’clock, had stopped before the gates of the chateau, and deposited + Maitre Crottat, the notary, who was shown, according to the count’s + orders, into the salon, where he found his clerk, extremely subdued in + manner, and the two painters, all three of them painfully self-conscious + and embarrassed. Monsieur de Reybert, a man of fifty, with a crabbed + expression of face, was also there, accompanied by old Margueron and the + notary of Beaumont, who held in his hand a bundle of deeds and other + papers. + </p> + <p> + When these various personages saw the count in evening dress, and wearing + his orders, Georges Marest had a slight sensation of colic, Joseph Bridau + quivered, but Mistigris, who was conscious of being in his Sunday clothes, + and had, moreover, nothing on his conscience, remarked, in a sufficiently + loud tone:— + </p> + <p> + “Well, he looks a great deal better like that.” + </p> + <p> + “Little scamp,” said the count, catching him by the ear, “we are both in + the decoration business. I hope you recognize your own work, my dear + Schinner,” he added, pointing to the ceiling of the salon. + </p> + <p> + “Monseigneur,” replied the artist, “I did wrong to take such a celebrated + name out of mere bravado; but this day will oblige me to do fine things + for you, and so bring credit on my own name of Joseph Bridau.” + </p> + <p> + “You took up my defence,” said the count, hastily; “and I hope you will + give me the pleasure of dining with me, as well as my lively friend + Mistigris.” + </p> + <p> + “Your Excellency doesn’t know to what you expose yourself,” said the saucy + rapin; “‘facilis descensus victuali,’ as we say at the Black Hen.” + </p> + <p> + “Bridau!” exclaimed the minister, struck by a sudden thought. “Are you any + relation to one of the most devoted toilers under the Empire, the head of + a bureau, who fell a victim to his zeal?” + </p> + <p> + “His son, monseigneur,” replied Joseph, bowing. + </p> + <p> + “Then you are most welcome here,” said the count, taking Bridau’s hand in + both of his. “I knew your father, and you can count on me as on—on + an uncle in America,” added the count, laughing. “But you are too young to + have pupils of your own; to whom does Mistigris really belong?” + </p> + <p> + “To my friend Schinner, who lent him to me,” said Joseph. “Mistigris’ name + is Leon de Lora. Monseigneur, if you knew my father, will you deign to + think of his other son, who is now accused of plotting against the State, + and is soon to be tried before the Court of Peers?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! that’s true,” said the count. “Yes, I will think about it, be sure of + that. As for Colonel Czerni-Georges, the friend of Ali Pacha, and Mina’s + aide-de-camp—” he continued, walking up to Georges. + </p> + <p> + “He! why that’s my second clerk!” cried Crottat. + </p> + <p> + “You are quite mistaken, Maitre Crottat,” said the count, assuming a stern + air. “A clerk who intends to be a notary does not leave important deeds in + a diligence at the mercy of other travellers; neither does he spend twenty + francs between Paris and Moisselles; or expose himself to be arrested as a + deserter—” + </p> + <p> + “Monseigneur,” said Georges Marest, “I may have amused myself with the + bourgeois in the diligence, but—” + </p> + <p> + “Let his Excellency finish what he was saying,” said the notary, digging + his elbow into his clerk’s ribs. + </p> + <p> + “A notary,” continued the count, “ought to practise discretion, + shrewdness, caution from the start; he should be incapable of such a + blunder as taking a peer of France for a tallow-chandler—” + </p> + <p> + “I am willing to be blamed for my faults,” said Georges; “but I never left + my deeds at the mercy of—” + </p> + <p> + “Now you are committing the fault of contradicting the word of a minister + of State, a gentleman, an old man, and a client,” said the count. “Give me + that deed of sale.” + </p> + <p> + Georges turned over and over the papers in his portfolio. + </p> + <p> + “That will do; don’t disarrange those papers,” said the count, taking the + deed from his pocket. “Here is what you are looking for.” + </p> + <p> + Crottat turned the paper back and forth, so astonished was he at receiving + it from the hands of his client. + </p> + <p> + “What does this mean, monsieur?” he said, finally, to Georges. + </p> + <p> + “If I had not taken it,” said the count, “Pere Leger,—who is by no + means such a ninny as you thought him from his questions about + agriculture, by which he showed that he attended to his own business,—Pere + Leger might have seized that paper and guessed my purpose. You must give + me the pleasure of dining with me, but one on condition,—that of + describing, as you promised, the execution of the Muslim of Smyrna, and + you must also finish the memoirs of some client which you have certainly + read to be so well informed.” + </p> + <p> + “Schlague for blague!” said Leon de Lora, in a whisper, to Joseph Bridau. + </p> + <p> + “Gentlemen,” said the count to the two notaries and Messieurs Margueron + and de Reybert, “let us go into the next room and conclude this business + before dinner, because, as my friend Mistigris would say: ‘Qui esurit + constentit.’” + </p> + <p> + “Well, he is very good-natured,” said Leon de Lora to Georges Marest, when + the count had left the room. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, HE may be, but my master isn’t,” said Georges, “and he will request + me to go and blaguer somewhere else.” + </p> + <p> + “Never mind, you like travel,” said Bridau. + </p> + <p> + “What a dressing that boy will get from Monsieur and Madame Moreau!” cried + Mistigris. + </p> + <p> + “Little idiot!” said Georges. “If it hadn’t been for him the count would + have been amused. Well, anyhow, the lesson is a good one; and if ever + again I am caught bragging in a public coach—” + </p> + <p> + “It is a stupid thing to do,” said Joseph Bridau. + </p> + <p> + “And common,” added Mistigris. “‘Vulgarity is the brother of pretension.’” + </p> + <p> + While the matter of the sale was being settled between Monsieur Margueron + and the Comte de Serizy, assisted by their respective notaries in presence + of Monsieur de Reybert, the ex-steward walked with slow steps to his own + house. There he entered the salon and sat down without noticing anything. + Little Husson, who was present, slipped into a corner, out of sight, so + much did the livid face of his mother’s friend alarm him. + </p> + <p> + “Eh! my friend!” said Estelle, coming into the room, somewhat tired with + what she had been doing. “What is the matter?” + </p> + <p> + “My dear, we are lost,—lost beyond recovery. I am no longer steward + of Presles, no longer in the count’s confidence.” + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” + </p> + <p> + “Pere Leger, who was in Pierrotin’s coach, told the count all about the + affair of Les Moulineaux. But that is not the thing that has cost me his + favor.” + </p> + <p> + “What then?” + </p> + <p> + “Oscar spoke ill of the countess, and he told about the count’s diseases.” + </p> + <p> + “Oscar!” cried Madame Moreau. “Ah! my dear, your sin has found you out. It + was well worth while to warm that young serpent in your bosom. How often I + have told you—” + </p> + <p> + “Enough!” said Moreau, in a strained voice. + </p> + <p> + At this moment Estelle and her husband discovered Oscar cowering in his + corner. Moreau swooped down on the luckless lad like a hawk on its prey, + took him by the collar of the coat and dragged him to the light of a + window. “Speak! what did you say to monseigneur in that coach? What demon + let loose your tongue, you who keep a doltish silence whenever I speak to + you? What did you do it for?” cried the steward, with frightful violence. + </p> + <p> + Too bewildered to weep, Oscar was dumb and motionless as a statue. + </p> + <p> + “Come with me and beg his Excellency’s pardon,” said Moreau. + </p> + <p> + “As if his Excellency cares for a little toad like that!” cried the + furious Estelle. + </p> + <p> + “Come, I say, to the chateau,” repeated Moreau. + </p> + <p> + Oscar dropped like an inert mass to the ground. + </p> + <p> + “Come!” cried Moreau, his anger increasing at every instant. + </p> + <p> + “No! no! mercy!” cried Oscar, who could not bring himself to submit to a + torture that seemed to him worse than death. + </p> + <p> + Moreau then took the lad by his coat, and dragged him, as he might a dead + body, through the yards, which rang with the boy’s outcries and sobs. He + pulled him up the portico, and, with an arm that fury made powerful, he + flung him, bellowing, and rigid as a pole, into the salon, at the very + feet of the count, who, having completed the purchase of Les Moulineaux, + was about to leave the salon for the dining-room with his guests. + </p> + <p> + “On your knees, wretched boy! and ask pardon of him who gave food to your + mind by obtaining your scholarship.” + </p> + <p> + Oscar, his face to the ground, was foaming with rage, and did not say a + word. The spectators of the scene were shocked. Moreau seemed no longer in + his senses; his face was crimson with injected blood. + </p> + <p> + “This young man is a mere lump of vanity,” said the count, after waiting a + moment for Oscar’s excuses. “A proud man humiliates himself because he + sees there is grandeur in a certain self-abasement. I am afraid that you + will never make much of that lad.” + </p> + <p> + So saying, his Excellency passed on. Moreau took Oscar home with him; and + on the way gave orders that the horses should immediately be put to Madame + Moreau’s caleche. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VII. A MOTHER’S TRIALS + </h2> + <p> + While the horses were being harnessed, Moreau wrote the following letter + to Madame Clapart:— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + My dear,—Oscar has ruined me. During his journey in Pierrotin’s + coach, he spoke of Madame de Serizy’s behavior to his Excellency, + who was travelling incognito, and actually told, to himself, the + secret of his terrible malady. After dismissing me from my + stewardship, the count told me not to let Oscar sleep at Presles, + but to send him away immediately. Therefore, to obey his orders, + the horses are being harnessed at this moment to my wife’s + carriage, and Brochon, my stable-man, will take the miserable + child to you to-night. + + We are, my wife and I, in a distress of mind which you may perhaps + imagine, though I cannot describe it to you. I will see you in a + few days, for I must take another course. I have three children, + and I ought to consider their future. At present I do not know + what to do; but I shall certainly endeavor to make the count aware + of what seventeen years of the life of a man like myself is worth. + Owning at the present moment about two hundred and fifty thousand + francs, I want to raise myself to a fortune which may some day + make me the equal of his Excellency. At this moment I feel within + me the power to move mountains and vanquish insurmountable + difficulties. What a lever is such a scene of bitter humiliation + as I have just passed through! Whose blood has Oscar in his veins? + His conduct has been that of a blockhead; up to this moment when I + write to you, he has not said a word nor answered, even by a sign, + the questions my wife and I have put to him. Will he become an + idiot? or is he one already? Dear friend, why did you not instruct + him as to his behavior before you sent him to me? How many + misfortunes you would have spared me, had you brought him here + yourself as I begged you to do. If Estelle alarmed you, you might + have stayed at Moisselles. However, the thing is done, and there + is no use talking about it. + + Adieu; I shall see you soon. +</pre> + <p> + Your devoted servant and friend, + </p> + <p> + Moreau + </p> + <p> + At eight o’clock that evening, Madame Clapart, just returned from a walk + she had taken with her husband, was knitting winter socks for Oscar, by + the light of a single candle. Monsieur Clapart was expecting a friend + named Poiret, who often came in to play dominoes, for never did he allow + himself to spend an evening at a cafe. In spite of the prudent economy to + which his small means forced him, Clapart would not have answered for his + temperance amid a luxury of food and in presence of the usual guests of a + cafe whose inquisitive observation would have piqued him. + </p> + <p> + “I’m afraid Poiret came while we were out,” said Clapart to his wife. + </p> + <p> + “Why, no, my friend; the portress would have told us so when we came in,” + replied Madame Clapart. + </p> + <p> + “She may have forgotten it.” + </p> + <p> + “What makes you think so?” + </p> + <p> + “It wouldn’t be the first time she has forgotten things for us,—for + God knows how people without means are treated.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said the poor woman, to change the conversation and escape + Clapart’s cavilling, “Oscar must be at Presles by this time. How he will + enjoy that fine house and the beautiful park.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! yes,” snarled Clapart, “you expect fine things of him; but, mark my + words, there’ll be squabbles wherever he goes.” + </p> + <p> + “Will you never cease to find fault with that poor child?” said the + mother. “What has he done to you? If some day we should live at our ease, + we may owe it all to him; he has such a good heart—” + </p> + <p> + “Our bones will be jelly long before that fellow makes his way in the + world,” cried Clapart. “You don’t know your own child; he is conceited, + boastful, deceitful, lazy, incapable of—” + </p> + <p> + “Why don’t you go to meet Poiret?” said the poor mother, struck to the + heart by the diatribe she had brought upon herself. + </p> + <p> + “A boy who has never won a prize at school!” continued Clapart. + </p> + <p> + To bourgeois eyes, the obtaining of school prizes means the certainty of a + fine future for the fortunate child. + </p> + <p> + “Did you win any?” asked his wife. “Oscar stood second in philosophy.” + </p> + <p> + This remark imposed silence for a moment on Clapart; but presently he + began again. + </p> + <p> + “Besides, Madame Moreau hates him like poison, you know why. She’ll try to + set her husband against him. Oscar to step into his shoes as steward of + Presles! Why he’d have to learn agriculture, and know how to survey.” + </p> + <p> + “He can learn.” + </p> + <p> + “He—that pussy cat! I’ll bet that if he does get a place down there, + it won’t be a week before he does some doltish thing which will make the + count dismiss him.” + </p> + <p> + “Good God! how can you be so bitter against a poor child who is full of + good qualities, sweet-tempered as an angel, incapable of doing harm to any + one, no matter who.” + </p> + <p> + Just then the cracking of a postilion’s whip and the noise of a carriage + stopping before the house was heard, this arrival having apparently put + the whole street into a commotion. Clapart, who heard the opening of many + windows, looked out himself to see what was happening. + </p> + <p> + “They have sent Oscar back to you in a post-chaise,” he cried, in a tone + of satisfaction, though in truth he felt inwardly uneasy. + </p> + <p> + “Good heavens! what can have happened to him?” cried the poor mother, + trembling like a leaf shaken by the autumn wind. + </p> + <p> + Brochon here came up, followed by Oscar and Poiret. + </p> + <p> + “What has happened?” repeated the mother, addressing the stable-man. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know, but Monsieur Moreau is no longer steward of Presles, and + they say your son has caused it. His Excellency ordered that he should be + sent home to you. Here’s a letter from poor Monsieur Moreau, madame, which + will tell you all. You never saw a man so changed in a single day.” + </p> + <p> + “Clapart, two glasses of wine for the postilion and for monsieur!” cried + the mother, flinging herself into a chair that she might read the fatal + letter. “Oscar,” she said, staggering towards her bed, “do you want to + kill your mother? After all the cautions I gave you this morning—” + </p> + <p> + She did not end her sentence, for she fainted from distress of mind. When + she came to herself she heard her husband saying to Oscar, as he shook him + by the arm:— + </p> + <p> + “Will you answer me?” + </p> + <p> + “Go to bed, monsieur,” she said to her son. “Let him alone, Monsieur + Clapart. Don’t drive him out of his senses; he is frightfully changed.” + </p> + <p> + Oscar did not hear his mother’s last words; he had slipped away to bed the + instant that he got the order. + </p> + <p> + Those who remember their youth will not be surprised to learn that after a + day so filled with events and emotions, Oscar, in spite of the enormity of + his offences, slept the sleep of the just. The next day he did not find + the world so changed as he thought it; he was surprised to be very hungry,—he + who the night before had regarded himself as unworthy to live. He had only + suffered mentally. At his age mental impressions succeed each other so + rapidly that the last weakens its predecessor, however deeply the first + may have been cut in. For this reason corporal punishment, though + philanthropists are deeply opposed to it in these days, becomes necessary + in certain cases for certain children. It is, moreover, the most natural + form of retribution, for Nature herself employs it; she uses pain to + impress a lasting memory of her precepts. If to the shame of the preceding + evening, unhappily too transient, the steward had joined some personal + chastisement, perhaps the lesson might have been complete. The discernment + with which such punishment needs to be administered is the greatest + argument against it. Nature is never mistaken; but the teacher is, and + frequently. + </p> + <p> + Madame Clapart took pains to send her husband out, so that she might be + alone with her son the next morning. She was in a state to excite pity. + Her eyes, worn with tears; her face, weary with the fatigue of a sleepless + night; her feeble voice,—in short, everything about her proved an + excess of suffering she could not have borne a second time, and appealed + to sympathy. + </p> + <p> + When Oscar entered the room she signed to him to sit down beside her, and + reminded him in a gentle but grieved voice of the benefits they had so + constantly received from the steward of Presles. She told him that they + had lived, especially for the last six years, on the delicate charity of + Monsieur Moreau; and that Monsieur Clapart’s salary, also the + “demi-bourse,” or scholarship, by which he (Oscar) had obtained an + education, was due to the Comte de Serizy. Most of this would now cease. + Monsieur Clapart, she said, had no claim to a pension,—his period of + service not being long enough to obtain one. On the day when he was no + longer able to keep his place, what would become of them? + </p> + <p> + “For myself,” she said, “by nursing the sick, or living as a housekeeper + in some great family, I could support myself and Monsieur Clapart; but + you, Oscar, what could you do? You have no means, and you must earn some, + for you must live. There are but four careers for a young man like you,—commerce, + government employment, the licensed professions, or military service. All + forms of commerce need capital, and we have none to give you. In place of + capital, a young man can only give devotion and his capacity. But commerce + also demands the utmost discretion, and your conduct yesterday proves that + you lack it. To enter a government office, you must go through a long + probation by the help of influence, and you have just alienated the only + protector that we had,—a most powerful one. Besides, suppose you + were to meet with some extraordinary help, by which a young man makes his + way promptly either in business or in the public employ, where could you + find the money to live and clothe yourself during the time that you are + learning your employment?” + </p> + <p> + Here the mother wandered, like other women, into wordy lamentation: What + should she do now to feed the family, deprived of the benefits Moreau’s + stewardship had enabled him to send her from Presles? Oscar had overthrown + his benefactor’s prosperity! As commerce and a government clerkship were + now impossible, there remained only the professions of notary and lawyer, + either barristers or solicitors, and sheriffs. But for those he must study + at least three years, and pay considerable sums for entrance fees, + examinations, certificates, and diplomas; and here again the question of + maintenance presented itself. + </p> + <p> + “Oscar,” she said, in conclusion, “in you I had put all my pride, all my + life. In accepting for myself an unhappy old age, I fastened my eyes on + you; I saw you with the prospect of a fine career, and I imagined you + succeeding in it. That thought, that hope, gave me courage to face the + privations I have endured for six years in order to carry you through + school, where you have cost me, in spite of the scholarship, between seven + and eight hundred francs a year. Now that my hope is vanishing, your + future terrifies me. I cannot take one penny from Monsieur Clapart’s + salary for my son. What can you do? You are not strong enough to + mathematics to enter any of the technical schools; and, besides, where + could I get the three thousand francs board-money which they extract? This + is life as it is, my child. You are eighteen, you are strong. Enlist in + the army; it is your only means, that I can see, to earn your bread.” + </p> + <p> + Oscar knew as yet nothing whatever of life. Like all children who have + been kept from a knowledge of the trials and poverty of the home, he was + ignorant of the necessity of earning his living. The word “commerce” + presented no idea whatever to his mind; “public employment” said almost as + little, for he saw no results of it. He listened, therefore, with a + submissive air, which he tried to make humble, to his mother’s + exhortations, but they were lost in the void, and did not reach his mind. + Nevertheless, the word “army,” the thought of being a soldier, and the + sight of his mother’s tears did at last make him cry. No sooner did Madame + Clapart see the drops coursing down his cheeks than she felt herself + helpless, and, like most mothers in such cases, she began the peroration + which terminates these scenes,—scenes in which they suffer their own + anguish and that of their children also. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Oscar, <i>promise</i> me that you will be more discreet in future,—that + you will not talk heedlessly any more, but will strive to repress your + silly vanity,” et cetera, et cetera. + </p> + <p> + Oscar of course promised all his mother asked him to promise, and then, + after gently drawing him to her, Madame Clapart ended by kissing him to + console him for being scolded. + </p> + <p> + “In future,” she said, “you will listen to your mother, and will follow + her advice; for a mother can give nothing but good counsel to her child. + We will go and see your uncle Cardot; that is our last hope. Cardot owed a + great deal to your father, who gave him his sister, Mademoiselle Husson, + with an enormous dowry for those days, which enabled him to make a large + fortune in the silk trade. I think he might, perhaps, place you with + Monsieur Camusot, his successor and son-in-law, in the rue des + Bourdonnais. But, you see, your uncle Cardot has four children. He gave + his establishment, the Cocon d’Or, to his eldest daughter, Madame Camusot; + and though Camusot has millions, he has also four children by two wives; + and, besides, he scarcely knows of our existence. Cardot has married his + second daughter, Mariane, to Monsieur Protez, of the firm of Protez and + Chiffreville. The practice of his eldest son, the notary, cost him four + hundred thousand francs; and he has just put his second son, Joseph, into + the drug business of Matifat. So you see, your uncle Cardot has many + reasons not to take an interest in you, whom he sees only four times a + year. He has never come to call upon me here, though he was ready enough + to visit me at Madame Mere’s when he wanted to sell his silks to the + Emperor, the imperial highnesses, and all the great people at court. But + now the Camusots have turned ultras. The eldest son of Camusot’s first + wife married a daughter of one of the king’s ushers. The world is mighty + hump-backed when it stoops! However, it was a clever thing to do, for the + Cocon d’Or has the custom of the present court as it had that of the + Emperor. But to-morrow we will go and see your uncle Cardot, and I hope + that you will endeavor to behave properly; for, as I said before, and I + repeat it, that is our last hope.” + </p> + <p> + Monsieur Jean-Jerome-Severin Cardot had been a widower six years. As + head-clerk of the Cocon d’Or, one of the oldest firms in Paris, he had + bought the establishment in 1793, at a time when the heads of the house + were ruined by the maximum; and the money of Mademoiselle Husson’s dowry + had enabled him to do this, and so make a fortune that was almost colossal + in ten years. To establish his children richly during his lifetime, he had + conceived the idea of buying an annuity for himself and his wife with + three hundred thousand francs, which gave him an income of thirty thousand + francs a year. He then divided his capital into three shares of four + hundred thousand francs each, which he gave to three of his children,—the + Cocon d’Or, given to his eldest daughter on her marriage, being the + equivalent of a fourth share. Thus the worthy man, who was now nearly + seventy years old, could spend his thirty thousand a year as he pleased, + without feeling that he injured the prospects of his children, all finely + provided for, whose attentions and proofs of affection were, moreover, not + prompted by self-interest. + </p> + <p> + Uncle Cardot lived at Belleville, in one of the first houses above the + Courtille. He there occupied, on the first floor, an apartment overlooking + the valley of the Seine, with a southern exposure, and the exclusive + enjoyment of a large garden, for the sum of a thousand francs a year. He + troubled himself not at all about the three or four other tenants of the + same vast country-house. Certain, through a long lease, of ending his days + there, he lived rather plainly, served by an old cook and the former maid + of the late Madame Cardot,—both of whom expected to reap an annuity + of some six hundred francs apiece on the old man’s death. These two women + took the utmost care of him, and were all the more interested in doing so + because no one was ever less fussy or less fault-finding than he. The + apartment, furnished by the late Madame Cardot, had remained in the same + condition for the last six years,—the old man being perfectly + contented with it. He spent in all not more than three thousand francs a + year there; for he dined in Paris five days in the week, and returned home + at midnight in a hackney-coach, which belonged to an establishment at + Courtille. The cook had only her master’s breakfast to provide on those + days. This was served at eleven o’clock; after that he dressed and + perfumed himself, and departed for Paris. Usually, a bourgeois gives + notice in the household if he dines out; old Cardot, on the contrary, gave + notice when he dined at home. + </p> + <p> + This little old man—fat, rosy, squat, and strong—always + looked, in popular speech, as if he had stepped from a bandbox. He + appeared in black silk stockings, breeches of “pou-de-soie” (paduasoy), a + white pique waistcoat, dazzling shirt-front, a blue-bottle coat, violet + silk gloves, gold buckles to his shoes and his breeches, and, lastly, a + touch of powder and a little queue tied with black ribbon. His face was + remarkable for a pair of eyebrows as thick as bushes, beneath which + sparkled his gray eyes; and for a square nose, thick and long, which gave + him somewhat the air of the abbes of former times. His countenance did not + belie him. Pere Cardot belonged to that race of lively Gerontes which is + now disappearing rapidly, though it once served as Turcarets to the + comedies and tales of the eighteenth century. Uncle Cardot always said + “Fair lady,” and he placed in their carriages, and otherwise paid + attention to those women whom he saw without protectors; he “placed + himself at their disposition,” as he said, in his chivalrous way. + </p> + <p> + But beneath his calm air and his snowy poll he concealed an old age almost + wholly given up to mere pleasure. Among men he openly professed + epicureanism, and gave himself the license of free talk. He had seen no + harm in the devotion of his son-in-law, Camusot, to Mademoiselle Coralie, + for he himself was secretly the Mecaenas of Mademoiselle Florentine, the + first danseuse at the Gaiete. But this life and these opinions never + appeared in his own home, nor in his external conduct before the world. + Uncle Cardot, grave and polite, was thought to be somewhat cold, so much + did he affect decorum; a “devote” would have called him a hypocrite. + </p> + <p> + The worthy old gentleman hated priests; he belonged to that great flock of + ninnies who subscribed to the “Constitutionnel,” and was much concerned + about “refusals to bury.” He adored Voltaire, though his preferences were + really for Piron, Vade, and Colle. Naturally, he admired Beranger, whom he + wittily called the “grandfather of the religion of Lisette.” His + daughters, Madame Camusot and Madame Protez, and his two sons would, to + use a popular expression, have been flabbergasted if any one had explained + to them what their father meant by “singing la Mere Godichon.” + </p> + <p> + This long-headed parent had never mentioned his income to his children, + who, seeing that he lived in a cheap way, reflected that he had deprived + himself of his property for their sakes, and, therefore, redoubled their + attentions and tenderness. In fact, he would sometimes say to his sons:— + </p> + <p> + “Don’t lose your property; remember, I have none to leave you.” + </p> + <p> + Camusot, in whom he recognized a certain likeness to his own nature, and + whom he liked enough to make a sharer in his secret pleasures, alone knew + of the thirty thousand a year annuity. But Camusot approved of the old + man’s ethics, and thought that, having made the happiness of his children + and nobly fulfilled his duty by them, he now had a right to end his life + jovially. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t you see, my friend,” said the former master of the Cocon d’Or, “I + might re-marry. A young woman would give me more children. Well, + Florentine doesn’t cost me what a wife would; neither does she bore me; + and she won’t give me children to lessen your property.” + </p> + <p> + Camusot considered that Pere Cardot gave expression to a high sense of + family duty in these words; he regarded him as an admirable father-in-law. + </p> + <p> + “He knows,” thought he, “how to unite the interests of his children with + the pleasures which old age naturally desires after the worries of + business life.” + </p> + <p> + Neither the Cardots, nor the Camusots, nor the Protez knew anything of the + ways of life of their aunt Clapart. The family intercourse was restricted + to the sending of notes of “faire part” on the occasion of deaths and + marriages, and cards at the New Year. The proud Madame Clapart would never + have brought herself to seek them were it not for Oscar’s interests, and + because of her friendship for Moreau, the only person who had been + faithful to her in misfortune. She had never annoyed old Cardot by her + visits, or her importunities, but she held to him as to a hope, and always + went to see him once every three months and talked to him of Oscar, the + nephew of the late respectable Madame Cardot; and she took the boy to call + upon him three times during each vacation. At each of these visits the old + gentleman had given Oscar a dinner at the Cadran-Bleu, taking him, + afterwards, to the Gaiete, and returning him safely to the rue de la + Cerisaie. On one occasion, having given the boy an entirely new suit of + clothes, he added the silver cup and fork and spoon required for his + school outfit. + </p> + <p> + Oscar’s mother endeavored to impress the old gentleman with the idea that + his nephew cherished him, and she constantly referred to the cup and the + fork and spoon and to the beautiful suit of clothes, though nothing was + then left of the latter but the waistcoat. But such little arts did Oscar + more harm than good when practised on so sly an old fox as uncle Cardot. + The latter had never much liked his departed wife, a tall, spare, + red-haired woman; he was also aware of the circumstances of the late + Husson’s marriage with Oscar’s mother, and without in the least condemning + her, he knew very well that Oscar was a posthumous child. His nephew, + therefore, seemed to him to have no claims on the Cardot family. But + Madame Clapart, like all women who concentrate their whole being into the + sentiment of motherhood, did not put herself in Cardot’s place and see the + matter from his point of view; she thought he must certainly be interested + in so sweet a child, who bore the maiden name of his late wife. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur,” said old Cardot’s maid-servant, coming out to him as he walked + about the garden while awaiting his breakfast, after his hairdresser had + duly shaved him and powdered his queue, “the mother of your nephew, Oscar, + is here.” + </p> + <p> + “Good-day, fair lady,” said the old man, bowing to Madame Clapart, and + wrapping his white pique dressing-gown about him. “Hey, hey! how this + little fellow grows,” he added, taking Oscar by the ear. + </p> + <p> + “He has finished school, and he regretted so much that his dear uncle was + not present at the distribution of the Henri IV. prizes, at which he was + named. The name of Husson, which, let us hope, he will bear worthily, was + proclaimed—” + </p> + <p> + “The deuce it was!” exclaimed the little old man, stopping short. Madame + Clapart, Oscar, and he were walking along a terrace flanked by oranges, + myrtles, and pomegranates. “And what did he get?” + </p> + <p> + “The fourth rank in philosophy,” replied the mother proudly. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! oh!” cried uncle Cardot, “the rascal has a good deal to do to make up + for lost time; for the fourth rank in philosophy, well, <i>it isn’t Peru</i>, + you know! You will stay and breakfast with me?” he added. + </p> + <p> + “We are at your orders,” replied Madame Clapart. “Ah! my dear Monsieur + Cardot, what happiness it is for fathers and mothers when their children + make a good start in life! In this respect—indeed, in all others,” + she added, catching herself up, “you are one of the most fortunate fathers + I have ever known. Under your virtuous son-in-law and your amiable + daughter, the Cocon d’Or continues to be the greatest establishment of its + kind in Paris. And here’s your eldest son, for the last ten years at the + head of a fine practice and married to wealth. And you have such charming + little granddaughters! You are, as it were, the head of four great + families. Leave us, Oscar; go and look at the garden, but don’t touch the + flowers.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, he’s eighteen years old!” said uncle Cardot, smiling at this + injunction, which made an infant of Oscar. + </p> + <p> + “Alas, yes, he is eighteen, my good Monsieur Cardot; and after bringing + him so far, sound and healthy in mind and body, neither bow-legged nor + crooked, after sacrificing everything to give him an education, it would + be hard if I could not see him on the road to fortune.” + </p> + <p> + “That Monsieur Moreau who got him the scholarship will be sure to look + after his career,” said uncle Cardot, concealing his hypocrisy under an + air of friendly good-humor. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur Moreau may die,” she said. “And besides, he has quarrelled + irrevocably with the Comte de Serizy, his patron.” + </p> + <p> + “The deuce he has! Listen, madame; I see you are about to—” + </p> + <p> + “No, monsieur,” said Oscar’s mother, interrupting the old man, who, out of + courtesy to the “fair lady,” repressed his annoyance at being interrupted. + “Alas, you do not know the miseries of a mother who, for seven years past, + has been forced to take a sum of six hundred francs a year for her son’s + education from the miserable eighteen hundred francs of her husband’s + salary. Yes, monsieur, that is all we have had to live upon. Therefore, + what more can I do for my poor Oscar? Monsieur Clapart so hates the child + that it is impossible for me to keep him in the house. A poor woman, alone + in the world, am I not right to come and consult the only relation my + Oscar has under heaven?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you are right,” said uncle Cardot. “You never told me of all this + before.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, monsieur!” replied Madame Clapart, proudly, “you were the last to + whom I would have told my wretchedness. It is all my own fault; I married + a man whose incapacity is almost beyond belief. Yes, I am, indeed, most + unhappy.” + </p> + <p> + “Listen to me, madame,” said the little old man, “and don’t weep; it is + most painful to me to see a fair lady cry. After all, your son bears the + name of Husson, and if my dear deceased wife were living she would wish to + do something for the name of her father and of her brother—” + </p> + <p> + “She loved her brother,” said Oscar’s mother. + </p> + <p> + “But all my fortune is given to my children, who expect nothing from me at + my death,” continued the old man. “I have divided among them the millions + that I had, because I wanted to see them happy and enjoying their wealth + during my lifetime. I have nothing now except an annuity; and at my age + one clings to old habits. Do you know the path on which you ought to start + this young fellow?” he went on, after calling to Oscar and taking him by + the arm. “Let him study law; I’ll pay the costs. Put him in a lawyer’s + office and let him learn the business of pettifogging; if he does well, if + he distinguishes himself, if he likes his profession and I am still alive, + each of my children shall, when the proper time comes, lend him a quarter + of the cost of a practice; and I will be security for him. You will only + have to feed and clothe him. Of course he’ll sow a few wild oats, but + he’ll learn life. Look at me: I left Lyon with two double louis which my + grandmother gave me, and walked to Paris; and what am I now? Fasting is + good for the health. Discretion, honesty, and work, young man, and you’ll + succeed. There’s a great deal of pleasure in earning one’s fortune; and if + a man keeps his teeth he eats what he likes in his old age, and sings, as + I do, ‘La Mere Godichon.’ Remember my words: Honesty, work, discretion.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you hear that, Oscar?” said his mother. “Your uncle sums up in three + words all that I have been saying to you. You ought to carve the last word + in letters of fire on your memory.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I have,” said Oscar. + </p> + <p> + “Very good,—then thank your uncle; didn’t you hear him say he would + take charge of your future? You will be a lawyer in Paris.” + </p> + <p> + “He doesn’t see the grandeur of his destiny,” said the little old man, + observing Oscar’s apathetic air. “Well, he’s just out of school. Listen, + I’m no talker,” he continued; “but I have this to say: Remember that at + your age honesty and uprightness are maintained only by resisting + temptations; of which, in a great city like Paris, there are many at every + step. Live in your mother’s home, in the garret; go straight to the + law-school; from there to your lawyer’s office; drudge night and day, and + study at home. Become, by the time you are twenty-two, a second clerk; by + the time you are twenty-four, head-clerk; be steady, and you will win all. + If, moreover, you shouldn’t like the profession, you might enter the + office of my son the notary, and eventually succeed him. Therefore, work, + patience, discretion, honesty,—those are your landmarks.” + </p> + <p> + “God grant that you may live thirty years longer to see your fifth child + realizing all we expect from him,” cried Madame Clapart, seizing uncle + Cardot’s hand and pressing it with a gesture that recalled her youth. + </p> + <p> + “Now come to breakfast,” replied the kind old man, leading Oscar by the + ear. + </p> + <p> + During the meal uncle Cardot observed his nephew without appearing to do + so, and soon saw that the lad knew nothing of life. + </p> + <p> + “Send him here to me now and then,” he said to Madame Clapart, as he bade + her good-bye, “and I’ll form him for you.” + </p> + <p> + This visit calmed the anxieties of the poor mother, who had not hoped for + such brilliant success. For the next fortnight she took Oscar to walk + daily, and watched him tyrannically. This brought matters to the end of + October. One morning as the poor household was breakfasting on a salad of + herring and lettuce, with milk for a dessert, Oscar beheld with terror the + formidable ex-steward, who entered the room and surprised this scene of + poverty. + </p> + <p> + “We are now living in Paris—but not as we lived at Presles,” said + Moreau, wishing to make known to Madame Clapart the change in their + relations caused by Oscar’s folly. “I shall seldom be here myself; for I + have gone into partnership with Pere Leger and Pere Margueron of Beaumont. + We are speculating in land, and we have begun by purchasing the estate of + Persan. I am the head of the concern, which has a capital of a million; + part of which I have borrowed on my own securities. When I find a good + thing, Pere Leger and I examine it; my partners have each a quarter and I + a half in the profits; but I do nearly all the work, and for that reason I + shall be constantly on the road. My wife lives here, in the faubourg du + Roule, very plainly. When we see how the business turns out, if we risk + only the profits, and if Oscar behaves himself, we may, perhaps, employ + him.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! my friend, the catastrophe caused by my poor boy’s heedlessness may + prove to be the cause of your making a brilliant fortune; for, really and + truly, you were burying your energy and your capacity at Presles.” + </p> + <p> + Madame Clapart then went on to relate her visit to uncle Cardot, in order + to show Moreau that neither she nor her son need any longer be a burden on + him. + </p> + <p> + “He is right, that old fellow,” said the ex-steward. “We must hold Oscar + in that path with an iron hand, and he will end as a barrister or a + notary. But he mustn’t leave the track; he must go straight through with + it. Ha! I know how to help you. The legal business of land-agents is quite + important, and I have heard of a lawyer who has just bought what is called + a “titre nu”; that means a practice without clients. He is a young man, + hard as an iron bar, eager for work, ferociously active. His name is + Desroches. I’ll offer him our business on condition that he takes Oscar as + a pupil; and I’ll ask him to let the boy live with him at nine hundred + francs a year, of which I will pay three, so that your son will cost you + only six hundred francs, without his living, in future. If the boy ever + means to become a man it can only be under a discipline like that. He’ll + come out of that office, notary, solicitor, or barrister, as he may + elect.” + </p> + <p> + “Come, Oscar; thank our kind Monsieur Moreau, and don’t stand there like a + stone post. All young men who commit follies have not the good fortune to + meet with friends who still take an interest in their career, even after + they have been injured by them.” + </p> + <p> + “The best way to make your peace with me,” said Moreau, pressing Oscar’s + hand, “is to work now with steady application, and to conduct yourself in + future properly.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VIII. TRICKS AND FARCES OF THE EMBRYO LONG ROBE + </h2> + <p> + Ten days later, Oscar was taken by Monsieur Moreau to Maitre Desroches, + solicitor, recently established in the rue de Bethisy, in a vast apartment + at the end of a narrow court-yard, for which he was paying a relatively + low price. + </p> + <p> + Desroches, a young man twenty-six years of age, born of poor parents, and + brought up with extreme severity by a stern father, had himself known the + condition in which Oscar now was. Accordingly, he felt an interest in him, + but the sort of interest which alone he could take, checked by the + apparent harshness that characterized him. The aspect of this gaunt young + man, with a muddy skin and hair cropped like a clothes-brush, who was curt + of speech and possessed a piercing eye and a gloomy vivaciousness, + terrified the unhappy Oscar. + </p> + <p> + “We work here day and night,” said the lawyer, from the depths of his + armchair, and behind a table on which were papers, piled up like Alps. + “Monsieur Moreau, we won’t kill him; but he’ll have to go at our pace. + Monsieur Godeschal!” he called out. + </p> + <p> + Though the day was Sunday, the head-clerk appeared, pen in hand. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur Godeschal, here’s the pupil of whom I spoke to you. Monsieur + Moreau takes the liveliest interest in him. He will dine with us and sleep + in the small attic next to your chamber. You will allot the exact time it + takes to go to the law-school and back, so that he does not lose five + minutes on the way. You will see that he learns the Code and is proficient + in his classes; that is to say, after he has done his work here, you will + give him authors to read. In short, he is to be under your immediate + direction, and I shall keep an eye on it. They want to make him what you + have made yourself, a capable head-clerk, against the time when he can + take such a place himself. Go with Monsieur Godeschal, my young friend; + he’ll show you your lodging, and you can settle down in it. Did you notice + Godeschal?” continued Desroches, speaking to Moreau. “There’s a fellow + who, like me, has nothing. His sister Mariette, the famous danseuse, is + laying up her money to buy him a practice in ten years. My clerks are + young blades who have nothing but their ten fingers to rely upon. So we + all, my five clerks and I, work as hard as a dozen ordinary fellows. But + in ten years I’ll have the finest practice in Paris. In my office, + business and clients are a passion, and that’s beginning to make itself + felt. I took Godeschal from Derville, where he was only just made second + clerk. He gets a thousand francs a year from me, and food and lodging. But + he’s worth it; he is indefatigable. I love him, that fellow! He has + managed to live, as I did when a clerk, on six hundred francs a year. What + I care for above all is honesty, spotless integrity; and when it is + practised in such poverty as that, a man’s a man. For the slightest fault + of that kind a clerk leaves my office.” + </p> + <p> + “The lad is in a good school,” thought Moreau. + </p> + <p> + For two whole years Oscar lived in the rue de Bethisy, a den of + pettifogging; for if ever that superannuated expression was applicable to + a lawyer’s office, it was so in this case. Under this supervision, both + petty and able, he was kept to his regular hours and to his work with such + rigidity that his life in the midst of Paris was that of a monk. + </p> + <p> + At five in the morning, in all weathers, Godeschal woke up. He went down + with Oscar to the office, where they always found their master up and + working. Oscar then did the errands of the office and prepared his lessons + for the law-school,—and prepared them elaborately; for Godeschal, + and frequently Desroches himself, pointed out to their pupil authors to be + looked through and difficulties to overcome. He was not allowed to leave a + single section of the Code until he had thoroughly mastered it to the + satisfaction of his chief and Godeschal, who put him through preliminary + examinations more searching and longer than those of the law-school. On + his return from his classes, where he was kept but a short time, he went + to his work in the office; occasionally he was sent to the Palais, but + always under the thumb of the rigid Godeschal, till dinner. The dinner was + that of his master,—one dish of meat, one of vegetables, and a + salad. The dessert consisted of a piece of Gruyere cheese. After dinner, + Godeschal and Oscar returned to the office and worked till night. Once a + month Oscar went to breakfast with his uncle Cardot, and he spent the + Sundays with his mother. From time to time Moreau, when he came to the + office about his own affairs, would take Oscar to dine in the + Palais-Royal, and to some theatre in the evening. Oscar had been so + snubbed by Godeschal and by Desroches for his attempts at elegance that he + no longer gave a thought to his clothes. + </p> + <p> + “A good clerk,” Godeschal told him, “should have two black coats, one new, + one old, a pair of black trousers, black stockings, and shoes. Boots cost + too much. You can’t have boots till you are called to the bar. A clerk + should never spend more than seven hundred francs a year. Good stout + shirts of strong linen are what you want. Ha! when a man starts from + nothing to reach fortune, he has to keep down to bare necessities. Look at + Monsieur Desroches; he did what we are doing, and see where he is now.” + </p> + <p> + Godeschal preached by example. If he professed the strictest principles of + honor, discretion, and honesty, he practised them without assumption, as + he walked, as he breathed; such action was the natural play of his soul, + as walking and breathing were the natural play of his organs. Eighteen + months after Oscar’s installation into the office, the second clerk was, + for the second time, slightly wrong in his accounts, which were + comparatively unimportant. Godeschal said to him in presence of all the + other clerks: + </p> + <p> + “My dear Gaudet, go away from here of your own free will, that it may not + be said that Monsieur Desroches has dismissed you. You have been careless + or absent-minded, and neither of those defects can pass here. The master + shall know nothing about the matter; that is all that I can do for a + comrade.” + </p> + <p> + At twenty years of age, Oscar became third clerk in the office. Though he + earned no salary, he was lodged and fed, for he did the work of the second + clerk. Desroches employed two chief clerks, and the work of the second was + unremitting toil. By the end of his second year in the law-school Oscar + knew more than most licensed graduates; he did the work at the Palais + intelligently, and argued some cases in chambers. Godeschal and Desroches + were satisfied with him. And yet, though he now seemed a sensible man, he + showed, from time to time, a hankering after pleasure and a desire to + shine, repressed, though it was, by the stern discipline and continual + toil of his life. + </p> + <p> + Moreau, satisfied with Oscar’s progress, relaxed, in some degree, his + watchfulness; and when, in July, 1825, Oscar passed his examinations with + a spotless record, the land-agent gave him the money to dress himself + elegantly. Madame Clapart, proud and happy in her son, prepared the outfit + splendidly for the rising lawyer. + </p> + <p> + In the month of November, when the courts reopened, Oscar Husson occupied + the chamber of the second clerk, whose work he now did wholly. He had a + salary of eight hundred francs with board and lodging. Consequently, uncle + Cardot, who went privately to Desroches and made inquiries about his + nephew, promised Madame Clapart to be on the lookout for a practice for + Oscar, if he continued to do as well in the future. + </p> + <p> + In spite of these virtuous appearances, Oscar Husson was undergoing a + great strife in his inmost being. At times he thought of quitting a life + so directly against his tastes and his nature. He felt that galley-slaves + were happier than he. Galled by the collar of this iron system, wild + desires seized him to fly when he compared himself in the street with the + well-dressed young men whom he met. Sometimes he was driven by a sort of + madness towards women; then, again, he resigned himself, but only to fall + into a deeper disgust for life. Impelled by the example of Godeschal, he + was forced, rather than led of himself, to remain in that rugged way. + </p> + <p> + Godeschal, who watched and took note of Oscar, made it a matter of + principle not to allow his pupil to be exposed to temptation. Generally + the young clerk was without money, or had so little that he could not, if + he would, give way to excess. During the last year, the worthy Godeschal + had made five or six parties of pleasure with Oscar, defraying the + expenses, for he felt that the rope by which he tethered the young kid + must be slackened. These “pranks,” as he called them, helped Oscar to + endure existence, for there was little amusement in breakfasting with his + uncle Cardot, and still less in going to see his mother, who lived even + more penuriously than Desroches. Moreau could not make himself familiar + with Oscar as Godeschal could; and perhaps that sincere friend to young + Husson was behind Godeschal in these efforts to initiate the poor youth + safely into the mysteries of life. Oscar, grown prudent, had come, through + contact with others, to see the extent and the character of the fault he + had committed on that luckless journey; but the volume of his repressed + fancies and the follies of youth might still get the better of him. + Nevertheless, the more knowledge he could get of the world and its laws, + the better his mind would form itself, and, provided Godeschal never lost + sight of him, Moreau flattered himself that between them they could bring + the son of Madame Clapart through in safety. + </p> + <p> + “How is he getting on?” asked the land-agent of Godeschal on his return + from one of his journeys which had kept him some months out of Paris. + </p> + <p> + “Always too much vanity,” replied Godeschal. “You give him fine clothes + and fine linen, he wears the shirt-fronts of a stockbroker, and so my + dainty coxcomb spends his Sundays in the Tuileries, looking out for + adventures. What else can you expect? That’s youth. He torments me to + present him to my sister, where he would see a pretty sort of society!—actresses, + ballet-dancers, elegant young fops, spendthrifts who are wasting their + fortunes! His mind, I’m afraid, is not fitted for law. He can talk well, + though; and if we could make him a barrister he might plead cases that + were carefully prepared for him.” + </p> + <p> + In the month of November, 1825, soon after Oscar Husson had taken + possession of his new clerkship, and at the moment when he was about to + pass his examination for the licentiate’s degree, a new clerk arrived to + take the place made vacant by Oscar’s promotion. + </p> + <p> + This fourth clerk, named Frederic Marest, intended to enter the + magistracy, and was now in his third year at the law school. He was a fine + young man of twenty-three, enriched to the amount of some twelve thousand + francs a year by the death of a bachelor uncle, and the son of Madame + Marest, widow of the wealthy wood-merchant. This future magistrate, + actuated by a laudable desire to understand his vocation in its smallest + details, had put himself in Desroches’ office for the purpose of studying + legal procedure, and of training himself to take a place as head-clerk in + two years. He hoped to do his “stage” (the period between the admission as + licentiate and the call to the bar) in Paris, in order to be fully + prepared for the functions of a post which would surely not be refused to + a rich young man. To see himself, by the time he was thirty, “procureur du + roi” in any court, no matter where, was his sole ambition. Though Frederic + Marest was cousin-german to Georges Marest, the latter not having told his + surname in Pierrotin’s coucou, Oscar Husson did not connect the present + Marest with the grandson of Czerni-Georges. + </p> + <p> + “Messieurs,” said Godeschal at breakfast time, addressing all the clerks, + “I announce to you the arrival of a new jurisconsult; and as he is rich, + rishissime, we will make him, I hope, pay a glorious entrance-fee.” + </p> + <p> + “Forward, the book!” cried Oscar, nodding to the youngest clerk, “and pray + let us be serious.” + </p> + <p> + The youngest clerk climbed like a squirrel along the shelves which lined + the room, until he could reach a register placed on the top shelf, where a + thick layer of dust had settled on it. + </p> + <p> + “It is getting colored,” said the little clerk, exhibiting the volume. + </p> + <p> + We must explain the perennial joke of this book, then much in vogue in + legal offices. In a clerical life where work is the rule, amusement is all + the more treasured because it is rare; but, above all, a hoax or a + practical joke is enjoyed with delight. This fancy or custom does, to a + certain extent, explain Georges Marest’s behavior in the coucou. The + gravest and most gloomy clerk is possessed, at times, with a craving for + fun and quizzing. The instinct with which a set of young clerks will seize + and develop a hoax or a practical joke is really marvellous. The denizens + of a studio and of a lawyer’s office are, in this line, superior to + comedians. + </p> + <p> + In buying a practice without clients, Desroches began, as it were, a new + dynasty. This circumstance made a break in the usages relative to the + reception of new-comers. Moreover, Desroches having taken an office where + legal documents had never yet been scribbled, had bought new tables, and + white boxes edged with blue, also new. His staff was made up of clerks + coming from other officers, without mutual ties, and surprised, as one may + say, to find themselves together. Godeschal, who had served his + apprenticeship under Maitre Derville, was not the sort of clerk to allow + the precious tradition of the “welcome” to be lost. This “welcome” is a + breakfast which every neophyte must give to the “ancients” of the office + into which he enters. + </p> + <p> + Now, about the time when Oscar came to the office, during the first six + months of Desroches’ installation, on a winter evening when the work had + been got through more quickly than usual, and the clerks were warming + themselves before the fire preparatory to departure, it came into + Godeschal’s head to construct and compose a Register + “architriclino-basochien,” of the utmost antiquity, saved from the fires + of the Revolution, and derived through the procureur of the + Chatelet-Bordin, the immediate predecessor of Sauvaguest, the attorney, + from whom Desroches had bought his practice. The work, which was highly + approved by the other clerks, was begun by a search through all the + dealers in old paper for a register, made of paper with the mark of the + eighteenth century, duly bound in parchment, on which should be the stamp + of an order in council. Having found such a volume it was left about in + the dust, on the stove, on the ground, in the kitchen, and even in what + the clerks called the “chamber of deliberations”; and thus it obtained a + mouldiness to delight an antiquary, cracks of aged dilapidation, and + broken corners that looked as though the rats had gnawed them; also, the + gilt edges were tarnished with surprising perfection. As soon as the book + was duly prepared, the entries were made. The following extracts will show + to the most obtuse mind the purpose to which the office of Maitre + Desroches devoted this register, the first sixty pages of which were + filled with reports of fictitious cases. On the first page appeared as + follows, in the legal spelling of the eighteenth century:— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, so be it. This + day, the feast of our lady Saincte-Geneviesve, patron saint of + Paris, under whose protection have existed, since the year 1525 + the clerks of this Practice, we the under-signed, clerks and + sub-clerks of Maistre Jerosme-Sebastien Bordin, successor to the + late Guerbet, in his lifetime procureur at the Chastelet, do hereby + recognize the obligation under which we lie to renew and continue + the register and the archives of installation of the clerks of + this noble Practice, a glorious member of the Kingdom of Basoche, + the which register, being now full in consequence of the many acts + and deeds of our well-beloved predecessors, we have consigned to + the Keeper of the Archives of the Palais for safe-keeping, with + the registers of other ancient Practices; and we have ourselves + gone, each and all, to hear mass at the parish church of + Saint-Severin to solemnize the inauguration of this our new + register. + + In witness whereof we have hereunto signed our names: Malin, + head-clerk; Grevin, second-clerk; Athanase Feret, clerk; Jacques + Heret, clerk; Regnault de Saint-Jean-d’Angely, clerk; Bedeau, + youngest clerk and gutter-jumper. + + In the year of our Lord 1787. + + After the mass aforesaid was heard, we conveyed ourselves to + Courtille, where, at the common charge, we ordered a fine + breakfast; which did not end till seven o’clock the next morning. +</pre> + <p> + This was marvellously well engrossed. An expert would have said that it + was written in the eighteenth century. Twenty-seven reports of receptions + of neophytes followed, the last in the fatal year of 1792. Then came a + blank of fourteen years; after which the register began again, in 1806, + with the appointment of Bordin as attorney before the first Court of the + Seine. And here follows the deed which proclaimed the reconstitution of + the kingdom of Basoche:— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + God in his mercy willed that, in spite of the fearful storms which + have cruelly ravaged the land of France, now become a great + Empire, the archives of the very celebrated Practice of Maitre + Bordin should be preserved; and we, the undersigned, clerks of the + very virtuous and very worthy Maitre Bordin, do not hesitate to + attribute this unheard-of preservation, when all titles, + privileges, and charters were lost, to the protection of + Sainte-Genevieve, patron Saint of this office, and also to the + reverence which the last of the procureurs of noble race had for + all that belonged to ancient usages and customs. In the uncertainty + of knowing the exact part of Sainte-Genevieve and Maitre Bordin in + this miracle, we have resolved, each of us, to go to Saint-Etienne + du Mont and there hear mass, which will be said before the altar + of that Holy-Shepherdess who sends us sheep to shear, and also to + offer a breakfast to our master Bordin, hoping that he will pay + the costs. + + Signed: Oignard, first clerk; Poidevin, second clerk; Proust, + clerk; Augustin Coret, sub-clerk. + + At the office. + + November, 1806. + + At three in the afternoon, the above-named clerks hereby return + their grateful thanks to their excellent master, who regaled them + at the establishment of the Sieur Rolland restaurateur, rue du + Hasard, with exquisite wines of three regions, to wit: Bordeaux, + Champagne, and Burgundy, also with dishes most carefully chosen, + between the hours of four in the afternoon to half-past seven in + the evening. Coffee, ices, and liqueurs were in abundance. But + the presence of the master himself forbade the chanting of hymns + of praise in clerical stanzas. No clerk exceeded the bounds of + amiable gayety, for the worthy, respectable, and generous patron + had promised to take his clerks to see Talma in “Brittanicus,” at + the Theatre-Francais. Long life to Maitre Bordin! May God shed + favors on his venerable pow! May he sell dear so glorious a + practice! May the rich clients for whom he prays arrive! May his + bills of costs and charges be paid in a trice! May our masters to + come be like him! May he ever be loved by clerks in other worlds + than this! +</pre> + <p> + Here followed thirty-three reports of various receptions of new clerks, + distinguished from one another by different writing and different inks, + also by quotations, signatures, and praises of good cheer and wines, which + seemed to show that each report was written and signed on the spot, “inter + pocula.” + </p> + <p> + Finally, under date of the month of June, 1822, the period when Desroches + took the oath, appears this constitutional declaration:— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I, the undersigned, Francois-Claude-Marie Godeschal, called by + Maitre Desroches to perform the difficult functions of head-clerk + in a Practice where the clients have to be created, having learned + through Maitre Derville, from whose office I come, of the + existence of the famous archives architriclino-basochien, so + celebrated at the Palais, have implored our gracious master to + obtain them from his predecessor; for it has become of the highest + importance to recover a document bearing date of the year 1786, + which is connected with other documents deposited for safe-keeping + at the Palais, the existence of which has been certified to by + Messrs. Terrasse and Duclos, keepers of records, by the help of + which we may go back to the year 1525, and find historical + indications of the utmost value on the manners, customs, and + cookery of the clerical race. + + Having received a favorable answer to this request, the present + office has this day been put in possession of these proofs of the + worship in which our predecessors held the Goddess Bottle and good + living. + + In consequence thereof, for the edification of our successors, and + to renew the chain of years and goblets, I, the said Godeschal, + have invited Messieurs Doublet, second clerk; Vassal, third clerk; + Herisson and Grandemain, clerks; and Dumets, sub-clerk, to + breakfast, Sunday next, at the “Cheval Rouge,” on the Quai + Saint-Bernard, where we will celebrate the victory of obtaining + this volume which contains the Charter of our gullets. + + This day, Sunday, June 27th, were imbibed twelve bottles of twelve + different wines, regarded as exquisite; also were devoured melons, + “pates au jus romanum,” and a fillet of beef with mushroom sauce. + Mademoiselle Mariette, the illustrious sister of our head-clerk + and leading lady of the Royal Academy of music and dancing, having + obligingly put at the disposition of this Practice orchestra seats + for the performance of this evening, it is proper to make this + record of her generosity. Moreover, it is hereby decreed that the + aforesaid clerks shall convey themselves in a body to that noble + demoiselle to thank her in person, and declare to her that on the + occasion of her first lawsuit, if the devil sends her one, she + shall pay the money laid out upon it, and no more. + + And our head-clerk Godeschal has been and is hereby proclaimed a + flower of Basoche, and, more especially, a good fellow. May a man + who treats so well be soon in treaty for a Practice of his own! +</pre> + <p> + On this record were stains of wine, pates, and candle-grease. To exhibit + the stamp of truth that the writers had managed to put upon these records, + we may here give the report of Oscar’s own pretended reception:— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + This day, Monday, November 25th, 1822, after a session held + yesterday at the rue de la Cerisaie, Arsenal quarter, at the house + of Madame Clapart, mother of the candidate-basochien Oscar Husson, + we, the undersigned, declare that the repast of admission + surpassed our expectations. It was composed of radishes, pink and + black, gherkins, anchovies, butter and olives for hors-d’oeuvre; a + succulent soup of rice, bearing testimony to maternal solicitude, + for we recognized therein a delicious taste of poultry; indeed, by + acknowledgment of the new member, we learned that the gibbets of a + fine stew prepared by the hands of Madame Clapart herself had been + judiciously inserted into the family soup-pot with a care that is + never taken except in such households. + + Item: the said gibbets inclosed in a sea of jelly. + + Item: a tongue of beef with tomatoes, which rendered us all + tongue-tied automatoes. + + Item: a compote of pigeons with caused us to think the angels had + had a finger in it. + + Item: a timbale of macaroni surrounded by chocolate custards. + + Item: a dessert composed of eleven delicate dishes, among which we + remarked (in spite of the tipsiness caused by sixteen bottles of + the choicest wines) a compote of peaches of august and mirobolant + delicacy. + + The wines of Roussillon and those of the banks of the Rhone + completely effaced those of Champagne and Burgundy. A bottle of + maraschino and another of kirsch did, in spite of the exquisite + coffee, plunge us into so marked an oenological ecstasy that we + found ourselves at a late hour in the Bois de Boulogne instead of + our domicile, where we thought we were. + + In the statutes of our Order there is one rule which is rigidly + enforced; namely, to allow all candidates for the privilege of + Basoche to limit the magnificence of their feast of welcome to the + length of their purse; for it is publicly notorious that no one + delivers himself up to Themis if he has a fortune, and every clerk + is, alas, sternly curtailed by his parents. Consequently, we + hereby record with the highest praise the liberal conduct of + Madame Clapart, widow, by her first marriage, of Monsieur Husson, + father of the candidate, who is worthy of the hurrahs which we + gave for her at dessert. + + To all of which we hereby set our hands. + + [Signed by all the clerks.] +</pre> + <p> + Three clerks had already been deceived by the Book, and three real + “receptions of welcome,” were recorded on this imposing register. + </p> + <p> + The day after the arrival of each neophyte, the little sub-clerk (the + errand-boy and “gutter-jumper”) laid upon the new-comer’s desk the + “Archives Architriclino-Basochiennes,” and the clerks enjoyed the sight of + his countenance as he studied its facetious pages. Inter pocula each + candidate had learned the secret of the farce, and the revelation inspired + him with the desire to hoax his successor. + </p> + <p> + We see now why Oscar, become in his turn participator in the hoax, called + out to the little clerk, “Forward, the book!” + </p> + <p> + Ten minutes later a handsome young man, with a fine figure and pleasant + face, presented himself, asked for Monsieur Desroches, and gave his name + without hesitation to Godeschal. + </p> + <p> + “I am Frederic Marest,” he said, “and I come to take the place of third + clerk.” + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur Husson,” said Godeschal to Oscar, “show monsieur his seat and + tell him about the customs of the office.” + </p> + <p> + The next day the new clerk found the register lying on his desk. He took + it up, but after reading a few pages he began to laugh, said nothing to + the assembled clerks, and laid the book down again. + </p> + <p> + “Messieurs,” he said, when the hour of departure came at five o’clock, “I + have a cousin who is head clerk of the notary Maitre Leopold Hannequin; I + will ask his advice as to what I ought to do for my welcome.” + </p> + <p> + “That looks ill,” cried Godeschal, when Frederic had gone, “he hasn’t the + cut of a novice, that fellow!” + </p> + <p> + “We’ll get some fun out of him yet,” said Oscar. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IX, LA MARQUISE DE LAS FLORENTINAS Y CABIROLOS + </h2> + <p> + The following day, at two o’clock, a young man entered the office, whom + Oscar recognized as Georges Marest, now head-clerk of the notary + Hannequin. + </p> + <p> + “Ha! here’s the friend of Ali pacha!” he exclaimed in a flippant way. + </p> + <p> + “Hey! you here, Monsieur l’ambassadeur!” returned Georges, recollecting + Oscar. + </p> + <p> + “So you know each other?” said Godeschal, addressing Georges. + </p> + <p> + “I should think so! We got into a scrape together,” replied Georges, + “about two years ago. Yes, I had to leave Crottat and go to Hannequin in + consequence of that affair.” + </p> + <p> + “What was it?” asked Godeschal. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, nothing!” replied Georges, at a sign from Oscar. “We tried to hoax a + peer of France, and he bowled us over. Ah ca! so you want to jockey my + cousin, do you?” + </p> + <p> + “We jockey no one,” replied Oscar, with dignity; “there’s our charter.” + </p> + <p> + And he presented the famous register, pointing to a place where sentence + of banishment was passed on a refractory who was stated to have been + forced, for acts of dishonesty, to leave the office in 1788. + </p> + <p> + Georges laughed as he looked through the archives. + </p> + <p> + “Well, well,” he said, “my cousin and I are rich, and we’ll give you a + fete such as you never had before,—something to stimulate your + imaginations for that register. To-morrow (Sunday) you are bidden to the + Rocher de Cancale at two o’clock. Afterwards, I’ll take you to spend the + evening with Madame la Marquise de las Florentinas y Cabirolos, where we + shall play cards, and you’ll see the elite of the women of fashion. + Therefore, gentleman of the lower courts,” he added, with notarial + assumption, “you will have to behave yourselves, and carry your wine like + the seigneurs of the Regency.” + </p> + <p> + “Hurrah!” cried the office like one man. “Bravo! very well! vivat! Long + live the Marests!” + </p> + <p> + “What’s all this about?” asked Desroches, coming out from his private + office. “Ah! is that you, Georges? I know what you are after; you want to + demoralize my clerks.” + </p> + <p> + So saying, he withdrew into his own room, calling Oscar after him. + </p> + <p> + “Here,” he said, opening his cash-box, “are five hundred francs. Go to the + Palais, and get from the registrar a copy of the decision in Vandernesse + against Vandernesse; it must be served to-night if possible. I have + promised a PROD of twenty francs to Simon. Wait for the copy if it is not + ready. Above all, don’t let yourself be fooled; for Derville is capable, + in the interest of his clients, to stick a spoke in our wheel. Count Felix + de Vandernesse is more powerful than his brother, our client, the + ambassador. Therefore keep your eyes open, and if there’s the slightest + hitch come back to me at once.” + </p> + <p> + Oscar departed with the full intention of distinguishing himself in this + little skirmish,—the first affair entrusted to him since his + installation as second clerk. + </p> + <p> + After the departure of Georges and Oscar, Godeschal sounded the new clerk + to discover the joke which, as he thought, lay behind this Marquise de las + Florentinas y Cabirolos. But Frederic, with the coolness and gravity of a + king’s attorney, continued his cousin’s hoax, and by his way of answering, + and his manner generally, he succeeded in making the office believe that + the marquise might really be the widow of a Spanish grandee, to whom his + cousin Georges was paying his addresses. Born in Mexico, and the daughter + of Creole parents, this young and wealthy widow was noted for the easy + manners and habits of the women of those climates. + </p> + <p> + “She loves to laugh, she loves to sing, she loves to drink like me!” he + said in a low voice, quoting the well-known song of Beranger. “Georges,” + he added, “is very rich; he has inherited from his father (who was a + widower) eighteen thousand francs a year, and with the twelve thousand + which an uncle has just left to each of us, he has an income of thirty + thousand. So he pays his debts, and gives up the law. He hopes to be + Marquis de las Florentinas, for the young widow is marquise in her own + right, and has the privilege of giving her titles to her husband.” + </p> + <p> + Though the clerks were still a good deal undecided in mind as to the + marquise, the double perspective of a breakfast at the Rocher de Cancale + and a fashionable festivity put them into a state of joyous expectation. + They reserved all points as to the Spanish lady, intending to judge her + without appeal after the meeting. + </p> + <p> + The Marquise de las Florentinas y Cabirolos was neither more nor less than + Mademoiselle Agathe-Florentine Cabirolle, first danseuse at the Gaiete, + with whom uncle Cardot was in the habit of singing “Mere Godichon.” A year + after the very reparable loss of Madame Cardot, the successful merchant + encountered Florentine as she was leaving Coulon’s dancing-class. + Attracted by the beauty of that choregraphic flower (Florentine was then + about thirteen years of age), he followed her to the rue Pastourel, where + he found that the future star of the ballet was the daughter of a + portress. Two weeks later, the mother and daughter, established in the rue + de Crussol, were enjoying a modest competence. It was to this protector of + the arts—to use the consecrated phrase—that the theatre owed + the brilliant danseuse. The generous Maecenas made two beings almost + beside themselves with joy in the possession of mahogany furniture, + hangings, carpets, and a regular kitchen; he allowed them a + woman-of-all-work, and gave them two hundred and fifty francs a month for + their living. Pere Cardot, with his hair in “pigeon-wings,” seemed like an + angel, and was treated with the attention due to a benefactor. To him this + was the age of gold. + </p> + <p> + For three years the warbler of “Mere Godichon” had the wise policy to keep + Mademoiselle Cabirolle and her mother in this little apartment, which was + only ten steps from the theatre; but he gave the girl, out of love for the + choregraphic art, the great Vestris for a master. In 1820 he had the + pleasure of seeing Florentine dance her first “pas” in the ballet of a + melodrama entitled “The Ruins of Babylon.” Florentine was then about + sixteen. Shortly after this debut Pere Cardot became an “old screw” in the + eyes of his protegee; but as he had the sense to see that a danseuse at + the Gaiete had a certain rank to maintain, he raised the monthly stipend + to five hundred francs, for which, although he did not again become an + angel, he was, at least, a “friend for life,” a second father. This was + his silver age. + </p> + <p> + From 1820 to 1823, Florentine had the experience of every danseuse of + nineteen to twenty years of age. Her friends were the illustrious Mariette + and Tullia, leading ladies of the Opera, Florine, and also poor Coralie, + torn too early from the arts, and love, and Camusot. As old Cardot had by + this time acquired five additional years, he had fallen into the + indulgence of a semi-paternity, which is the way with old men towards the + young talents they have trained, and which owe their success to them. + Besides, where could he have found another Florentine who knew all his + habits and likings, and with whom he and his friends could sing “Mere + Godichon”? So the little old man remained under a yoke that was + semi-conjugal and also irresistibly strong. This was the brass age for the + old fellow. + </p> + <p> + During the five years of silver and gold Pere Cardot had laid by eighty + thousand francs. The old gentleman, wise from experience, foresaw that by + the time he was seventy Florentine would be of age, probably engaged at + the Opera, and, consequently, wanting all the luxury of a theatrical star. + Some days before the party mentioned by Georges, Pere Cardot had spent the + sum of forty-five thousand francs in fitting up for his Florentine the + former apartment of the late Coralie. In Paris there are suites of rooms + as well as houses and streets that have their predestinations. Enriched + with a magnificent service of plate, the “prima danseuse” of the Gaiete + began to give dinners, spent three hundred francs a month on her dress, + never went out except in a hired carriage, and had a maid for herself, a + cook, and a little footman. + </p> + <p> + In fact, an engagement at the Opera was already in the wind. The Cocon + d’Or did homage to its first master by sending its most splendid products + for the gratification of Mademoiselle Cabirolle, now called Florentine. + The magnificence which suddenly burst upon her apartment in the rue de + Vendome would have satisfied the most ambitious supernumerary. After being + the master of the ship for seven years, Cardot now found himself towed + along by a force of unlimited caprice. But the luckless old gentleman was + fond of his tyrant. Florentine was to close his eyes; he meant to leave + her a hundred thousand francs. The iron age had now begun. + </p> + <p> + Georges Marest, with thirty thousand francs a year, and a handsome face, + courted Florentine. Every danseuse makes a point of having some young man + who will take her to drive, and arrange the gay excursions into the + country which all such women delight in. However disinterested she may be, + the courtship of such a star is a passion which costs some trifles to the + favored mortal. There are dinners at restaurants, boxes at the theatres, + carriages to go to the environs and return, choice wines consumed in + profusion,—for an opera danseuse eats and drinks like an athlete. + Georges amused himself like other young men who pass at a jump from + paternal discipline to a rich independence, and the death of his uncle, + nearly doubling his means, had still further enlarged his ideas. As long + as he had only his patrimony of eighteen thousand francs a year, his + intention was to become a notary, but (as his cousin remarked to the + clerks of Desroches) a man must be stupid who begins a profession with the + fortune most men hope to acquire in order to leave it. Wiser then Georges, + Frederic persisted in following the career of public office, and of + putting himself, as we have seen, in training for it. + </p> + <p> + A young man as handsome and attractive as Georges might very well aspire + to the hand of a rich creole; and the clerks in Desroches’ office, all of + them the sons of poor parents, having never frequented the great world, + or, indeed, known anything about it, put themselves into their best + clothes on the following day, impatient enough to behold, and be presented + to the Mexican Marquise de las Florentinas y Cabirolos. + </p> + <p> + “What luck,” said Oscar to Godeschal, as they were getting up in the + morning, “that I had just ordered a new coat and trousers and waistcoat, + and that my dear mother had made me that fine outfit! I have six frilled + shirts of fine linen in the dozen she made for me. We shall make an + appearance! Ha! ha! suppose one of us were to carry off the Creole + marchioness from that Georges Marest!” + </p> + <p> + “Fine occupation that, for a clerk in our office!” cried Godeschal. “Will + you never control your vanity, popinjay?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! monsieur,” said Madame Clapart, who entered the room at that moment + to bring her son some cravats, and overhead the last words of the + head-clerk, “would to God that my Oscar might always follow your advice. + It is what I tell him all the time: ‘Imitate Monsieur Godeschal; listen to + what he tells you.’” + </p> + <p> + “He’ll go all right, madame,” interposed Godeschal, “but he mustn’t commit + any more blunders like one he was guilty of last night, or he’ll lose the + confidence of the master. Monsieur Desroches won’t stand any one not + succeeding in what he tells them to do. He ordered your son, for a first + employment in his new clerkship, to get a copy of a judgment which ought + to have been served last evening, and Oscar, instead of doing so, allowed + himself to be fooled. The master was furious. It’s a chance if I have been + able to repair the mischief by going this morning, at six o’clock, to see + the head-clerk at the Palais, who has promised me to have a copy ready by + seven o’clock to-morrow morning.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, Godeschal!” cried Oscar, going up to him and pressing his hand. “You + are, indeed, a true friend.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, monsieur!” said Madame Clapart, “a mother is happy, indeed, in + knowing that her son has a friend like you; you may rely upon a gratitude + which can end only with my life. Oscar, one thing I want to say to you + now. Distrust that Georges Marest. I wish you had never met him again, for + he was the cause of your first great misfortune in life.” + </p> + <p> + “Was he? How so?” asked Godeschal. + </p> + <p> + The too devoted mother explained succinctly the adventure of her poor + Oscar in Pierrotin’s coucou. + </p> + <p> + “I am certain,” said Godeschal, “that that blagueur is preparing some + trick against us for this evening. As for me, I can’t go to the Marquise + de las Florentinas’ party, for my sister wants me to draw up the terms of + her new engagement; I shall have to leave after the dessert. But, Oscar, + be on your guard. They will ask you to play, and, of course, the Desroches + office mustn’t draw back; but be careful. You shall play for both of us; + here’s a hundred francs,” said the good fellow, knowing that Oscar’s purse + was dry from the demands of his tailor and bootmaker. “Be prudent; + remember not to play beyond that sum; and don’t let yourself get tipsy, + either with play or libations. Saperlotte! a second clerk is already a man + of weight, and shouldn’t gamble on notes, or go beyond a certain limit in + anything. His business is to get himself admitted to the bar. Therefore + don’t drink too much, don’t play too long, and maintain a proper dignity,—that’s + your rule of conduct. Above all, get home by midnight; for, remember, you + must be at the Palais to-morrow morning by seven to get that judgment. A + man is not forbidden to amuse himself, but business first, my boy.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you hear that, Oscar?” said Madame Clapart. “Monsieur Godeschal is + indulgent; see how well he knows how to combine the pleasures of youth and + the duties of his calling.” + </p> + <p> + Madame Clapart, on the arrival of the tailor and the bootmaker with + Oscar’s new clothes, remained alone with Godeschal, in order to return him + the hundred francs he had just given her son. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, monsieur!” she said, “the blessings of a mother will follow you + wherever you go, and in all your enterprises.” + </p> + <p> + Poor woman! she now had the supreme delight of seeing her son + well-dressed, and she gave him a gold watch, the price of which she had + saved by economy, as the reward of his good conduct. + </p> + <p> + “You draw for the conscription next week,” she said, “and to prepare, in + case you get a bad number, I have been to see your uncle Cardot. He is + very much pleased with you; and so delighted to know you are a second + clerk at twenty, and to hear of your successful examination at the + law-school, that he promised me the money for a substitute. Are not you + glad to think that your own good conduct has brought such reward? Though + you have some privations to bear, remember the happiness of being able, + five years from now, to buy a practice. And think, too, my dear little + kitten, how happy you make your mother.” + </p> + <p> + Oscar’s face, somewhat thinned by study, had acquired, through habits of + business, a serious expression. He had reached his full growth, his beard + was thriving; adolescence had given place to virility. The mother could + not refrain from admiring her son and kissing him, as she said:— + </p> + <p> + “Amuse yourself, my dear boy, but remember the advice of our good Monsieur + Godeschal. Ah! by the bye, I was nearly forgetting! Here’s a present our + friend Moreau sends you. See! what a pretty pocket-book.” + </p> + <p> + “And I want it, too; for the master gave me five hundred francs to get + that cursed judgment of Vandernesse versus Vandernesse, and I don’t want + to leave that sum of money in my room.” + </p> + <p> + “But, surely, you are not going to carry it with you!” exclaimed his + mother, in alarm. “Suppose you should lose a sum like that! Hadn’t you + better give it to Monsieur Godeschal for safe keeping?” + </p> + <p> + “Godeschal!” cried Oscar, who thought his mother’s suggestion excellent. + </p> + <p> + But Godeschal, who, like all clerks, has his time to himself on Sundays, + from ten to two o’clock, had already departed. + </p> + <p> + When his mother left him, Oscar went to lounge upon the boulevards until + it was time to go to Georges Marest’s breakfast. Why not display those + beautiful clothes which he wore with a pride and joy which all young + fellows who have been pinched for means in their youth will remember. A + pretty waistcoat with a blue ground and a palm-leaf pattern, a pair of + black cashmere trousers pleated, a black coat very well fitting, and a + cane with a gilt top, the cost of which he had saved himself, caused a + natural joy to the poor lad, who thought of his manner of dress on the day + of that journey to Presles, as the effect that Georges had then produced + upon him came back to his mind. + </p> + <p> + Oscar had before him the perspective of a day of happiness; he was to see + the gay world at last! Let us admit that a clerk deprived of enjoyments, + though longing for dissipation, was likely to let his unchained senses + drive the wise counsels of his mother and Godeschal completely out of his + mind. To the shame of youth let it be added that good advice is never + lacking to it. In the matter of Georges, Oscar himself had a feeling of + aversion for him; he felt humiliated before a witness of that scene in the + salon at Presles when Moreau had flung him at the count’s feet. The moral + senses have their laws, which are implacable, and we are always punished + for disregarding them. There is one in particular, which the animals + themselves obey without discussion, and invariably; it is that which tells + us to avoid those who have once injured us, with or without intention, + voluntarily or involuntarily. The creature from whom we receive either + damage or annoyance will always be displeasing to us. Whatever may be his + rank or the degree of affection in which he stands to us, it is best to + break away from him; for our evil genius has sent him to us. Though the + Christian sentiment is opposed to it, obedience to this terrible law is + essentially social and conservative. The daughter of James II., who seated + herself upon her father’s throne, must have caused him many a wound before + that usurpation. Judas had certainly given some murderous blow to Jesus + before he betrayed him. We have within us an inward power of sight, an eye + of the soul which foresees catastrophes; and the repugnance that comes + over us against the fateful being is the result of that foresight. Though + religion orders us to conquer it, distrust remains, and its voice is + forever heard. Would Oscar, at twenty years of age, have the wisdom to + listen to it? + </p> + <p> + Alas! when, at half-past two o’clock, Oscar entered the salon of the + Rocher de Cancale,—where were three invited persons besides the + clerks, to wit: an old captain of dragoons, named Giroudeau; Finot, a + journalist who might procure an engagement for Florentine at the Opera, + and du Bruel, an author, the friend of Tullia, one of Mariette’s rivals,—the + second clerk felt his secret hostility vanish at the first handshaking, + the first dashes of conversation as they sat around a table luxuriously + served. Georges, moreover, made himself charming to Oscar. + </p> + <p> + “You’ve taken to private diplomacy,” he said; “for what difference is + there between a lawyer and an ambassador? only that between a nation and + an individual. Ambassadors are the attorneys of Peoples. If I can ever be + useful to you, let me know.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Oscar, “I’ll admit to you now that you once did me a very + great harm.” + </p> + <p> + “Pooh!” said Georges, after listening to the explanation for which he + asked; “it was Monsieur de Serizy who behaved badly. His wife! I wouldn’t + have her at any price; neither would I like to be in the count’s red skin, + minister of State and peer of France as he is. He has a small mind, and I + don’t care a fig for him now.” + </p> + <p> + Oscar listened with true pleasure to these slurs on the count, for they + diminished, in a way, the importance of his fault; and he echoed the + spiteful language of the ex-notary, who amused himself by predicting the + blows to the nobility of which the bourgeoisie were already dreaming,—blows + which were destined to become a reality in 1830. + </p> + <p> + At half-past three the solid eating of the feast began; the dessert did + not appear till eight o’clock,—each course having taken two hours to + serve. None but clerks can eat like that! The stomachs of eighteen and + twenty are inexplicable to the medical art. The wines were worthy of + Borrel, who in those days had superseded the illustrious Balaine, the + creator of the first restaurant for delicate and perfectly prepared food + in Paris,—that is to say, the whole world. + </p> + <p> + The report of this Belshazzar’s feast for the architriclino-basochien + register was duly drawn up, beginning, “Inter pocula aurea restauranti, + qui vulgo dicitur Rupes Cancali.” Every one can imagine the fine page now + added to the Golden Book of jurisprudential festivals. + </p> + <p> + Godeschal disappeared after signing the report, leaving the eleven guests, + stimulated by the old captain of the Imperial Guard, to the wines, toasts, + and liqueurs of a dessert composed of choice and early fruits, in pyramids + that rivalled the obelisk of Thebes. By half-past ten the little sub-clerk + was in such a state that Georges packed him into a coach, paid his fare, + and gave the address of his mother to the driver. The remaining ten, all + as drunk as Pitt and Dundas, talked of going on foot along the boulevards, + considering the fine evening, to the house of the Marquise de las + Florentinas y Cabirolos, where, about midnight, they might expect to find + the most brilliant society of Paris. They felt the need of breathing the + pure air into their lungs; but, with the exception of Georges, Giroudeau, + du Bruel, and Finot, all four accustomed to Parisian orgies, not one of + the party could walk. Consequently, Georges sent to a livery-stable for + three open carriages, in which he drove his company for an hour round the + exterior boulevards from Monmartre to the Barriere du Trone. They returned + by Bercy, the quays, and the boulevards to the rue de Vendome. + </p> + <p> + The clerks were fluttering still in the skies of fancy to which youth is + lifted by intoxication, when their amphitryon introduced them into + Florentine’s salon. There sparkled a bevy of stage princesses, who, having + been informed, no doubt, of Frederic’s joke, were amusing themselves by + imitating the women of good society. They were then engaged in eating + ices. The wax-candles flamed in the candelabra. Tullia’s footmen and those + of Madame du Val-Noble and Florine, all in full livery, where serving the + dainties on silver salvers. The hangings, a marvel of Lyonnaise + workmanship, fastened by gold cords, dazzled all eyes. The flowers of the + carpet were like a garden. The richest “bibelots” and curiosities danced + before the eyes of the new-comers. + </p> + <p> + At first, and in the state to which Georges had brought them, the clerks, + and more particularly Oscar, believed in the Marquise de las Florentinas y + Cabirolos. Gold glittered on four card-tables in the bed-chamber. In the + salon, the women were playing at vingt-et-un, kept by Nathan, the + celebrated author. + </p> + <p> + After wandering, tipsy and half asleep, through the dark exterior + boulevards, the clerks now felt that they had wakened in the palace of + Armida. Oscar, presented to the marquise by Georges, was quite stupefied, + and did not recognize the danseuse he had seen at the Gaiete, in this + lady, aristocratically decolletee and swathed in laces, till she looked + like the vignette of a keepsake, who received him with manners and graces + the like of which was neither in the memory nor the imagination of a young + clerk rigidly brought up. After admiring the splendors of the apartment + and the beautiful women there displayed, who had all outdone each other in + their dress for this occasion, Oscar was taken by the hand and led by + Florentine to a vingt-et-un table. + </p> + <p> + “Let me present you,” she said, “to the beautiful Marquise d’Anglade, one + of my nearest friends.” + </p> + <p> + And she took Oscar to the pretty Fanny Beaupre, who had just made herself + a reputation at the Porte-Saint-Martin, in a melodrama entitled “La + Famille d’Anglade.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear,” said Florentine, “allow me to present to you a charming youth, + whom you can take as a partner in the game.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! that will be delightful,” replied the actress, smiling, as she looked + at Oscar. “I am losing. Shall we go shares, monsieur?” + </p> + <p> + “Madame la marquise, I am at your orders,” said Oscar, sitting down beside + her. + </p> + <p> + “Put down the money; I’ll play; you shall being me luck! See, here are my + last hundred francs.” + </p> + <p> + And the “marquise” took out from her purse, the rings of which were + adorned with diamonds, five gold pieces. Oscar pulled out his hundred in + silver five-franc pieces, much ashamed at having to mingle such ignoble + coins with gold. In ten throws the actress lost the two hundred francs. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! how stupid!” she cried. “I’m banker now. But we’ll play together + still, won’t we?” + </p> + <p> + Fanny Beaupre rose to take her place as banker, and Oscar, finding himself + observed by the whole table, dared not retire on the ground that he had no + money. Speech failed him, and his tongue clove to the roof of his mouth. + </p> + <p> + “Lend me five hundred francs,” said the actress to the danseuse. + </p> + <p> + Florentine brought the money, which she obtained from Georges, who had + just passed eight times at ecarte. + </p> + <p> + “Nathan has won twelve hundred francs,” said the actress to Oscar. + “Bankers always win; we won’t let them fool us, will we?” she whispered in + his ear. + </p> + <p> + Persons of nerve, imagination, and dash will understand how it was that + poor Oscar opened his pocket-book and took out the note of five hundred + francs which Desroches had given him. He looked at Nathan, the + distinguished author, who now began, with Florine, to play a heavy game + against the bank. + </p> + <p> + “Come, my little man, take ‘em up,” cried Fanny Beaupre, signing to Oscar + to rake in the two hundred francs which Nathan and Florine had punted. + </p> + <p> + The actress did not spare taunts or jests on those who lost. She enlivened + the game with jokes which Oscar thought singular; but reflection was + stifled by joy; for the first two throws produced a gain of two thousand + francs. Oscar then thought of feigning illness and making his escape, + leaving his partner behind him; but “honor” kept him there. Three more + turns and the gains were lost. Oscar felt a cold sweat running down his + back, and he was sobered completely. + </p> + <p> + The next two throws carried off the thousand francs of their mutual stake. + Oscar was consumed with thirst, and drank three glasses of iced punch one + after the other. The actress now led him into the bed-chamber, where the + rest of the company were playing, talking frivolities with an easy air. + But by this time the sense of his wrong-doing overcame him; the figure of + Desroches appeared to him like a vision. He turned aside to a dark corner + and sat down, putting his handkerchief to his eyes, and wept. Florentine + noticed the attitude of true grief, which, because it is sincere, is + certain to strike the eye of one who acts. She ran to him, took the + handkerchief from his hand, and saw his tears; then she led him into a + boudoir alone. + </p> + <p> + “What is it, my child?” she said. + </p> + <p> + At the tone and accent of that voice Oscar recognized a motherly kindness + which is often found in women of her kind, and he answered openly:— + </p> + <p> + “I have lost five hundred francs which my employer gave me to obtain a + document to-morrow morning; there’s nothing for me but to fling myself + into the river; I am dishonored.” + </p> + <p> + “How silly you are!” she said. “Stay where you are; I’ll get you a + thousand francs and you can win back what you’ve lost; but don’t risk more + than five hundred, so that you may be sure of your master’s money. Georges + plays a fine game at ecarte; bet on him.” + </p> + <p> + Oscar, frightened by his position, accepted the offer of the mistress of + the house. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” he thought, “it is only women of rank who are capable of such + kindness. Beautiful, noble, rich! how lucky Georges is!” + </p> + <p> + He received the thousand francs from Florentine and returned to bet on his + hoaxer. Georges had just passed for the fourth time when Oscar sat down + beside him. The other players saw with satisfaction the arrival of a new + better; for all, with the instinct of gamblers, took the side of + Giroudeau, the old officer of the Empire. + </p> + <p> + “Messieurs,” said Georges, “you’ll be punished for deserting me; I feel in + the vein. Come, Oscar, we’ll make an end of them!” + </p> + <p> + Georges and his partner lost five games running. After losing the thousand + francs Oscar was seized with the fury of play and insisted on taking the + cards himself. By the result of a chance not at all uncommon with those + who play for the first time, he won. But Georges bewildered him with + advice; told him when to throw the cards, and even snatched them from his + hand; so that this conflict of wills and intuitions injured his vein. By + three o’clock in the morning, after various changes of fortune, and still + drinking punch, Oscar came down to his last hundred francs. He rose with a + heavy head, completely stupefied, took a few steps forward, and fell upon + a sofa in the boudoir, his eyes closing in a leaden sleep. + </p> + <p> + “Mariette,” said Fanny Beaupre to Godeschal’s sister, who had come in + about two o’clock, “do you dine here to-morrow? Camusot and Pere Cardot + are coming, and we’ll have some fun.” + </p> + <p> + “What!” cried Florentine, “and my old fellow never told me!” + </p> + <p> + “He said he’d tell you to-morrow morning,” remarked Fanny Beaupre. + </p> + <p> + “The devil take him and his orgies!” exclaimed Florentine. “He and Camusot + are worse than magistrates or stage-managers. But we have very good + dinners here, Mariette,” she continued. “Cardot always orders them from + Chevet’s; bring your Duc de Maufrigneuse and we’ll make them dance like + Tritons.” + </p> + <p> + Hearing the names of Cardot and Camusot, Oscar made an effort to throw off + his sleep; but he could only mutter a few words which were not understood, + and then he fell back upon the silken cushions. + </p> + <p> + “You’ll have to keep him here all night,” said Fanny Beaupre, laughing, to + Florentine. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! poor boy! he is drunk with punch and despair both. It is the second + clerk in your brother’s office,” she said to Mariette. “He has lost the + money his master gave him for some legal affair. He wanted to drown + himself; so I lent him a thousand francs, but those brigands Finot and + Giroudeau won them from him. Poor innocent!” + </p> + <p> + “But we ought to wake him,” said Mariette. “My brother won’t make light of + it, nor his master either.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, wake him if you can, and carry him off with you!” said Florentine, + returning to the salon to receive the adieux of some departing guests. + </p> + <p> + Presently those who remained began what was called “character dancing,” + and by the time it was broad daylight, Florentine, tired out, went to bed, + oblivious to Oscar, who was still in the boudoir sound asleep. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER X. ANOTHER CATASTROPHE + </h2> + <p> + About eleven the next morning, a terrible sound awoke the unfortunate + clerk. Recognizing the voice of his uncle Cardot, he thought it wise to + feign sleep, and so turned his face into the yellow velvet cushions on + which he had passed the night. + </p> + <p> + “Really, my little Florentine,” said the old gentleman, “this is neither + right nor sensible; you danced last evening in ‘Les Ruines,’ and you have + spent the night in an orgy. That’s deliberately going to work to lose your + freshness. Besides which, it was ungrateful to inaugurate this beautiful + apartment without even letting me know. Who knows what has been going on + here?” + </p> + <p> + “Old monster!” cried Florentine, “haven’t you a key that lets you in at + all hours? My ball lasted till five in the morning, and you have the + cruelty to come and wake me up at eleven!” + </p> + <p> + “Half-past eleven, Titine,” observed Cardot, humbly. “I came out early to + order a dinner fit for an archbishop at Chevet’s. Just see how the carpets + are stained! What sort of people did you have here?” + </p> + <p> + “You needn’t complain, for Fanny Beaupre told me you were coming to dinner + with Camusot, and to please you I’ve invited Tullia, du Bruel, Mariette, + the Duc de Maufrigneuse, Florine, and Nathan. So you’ll have the four + loveliest creatures ever seen behind the foot-lights; we’ll dance you a + ‘pas de Zephire.’” + </p> + <p> + “It is enough to kill you to lead such a life!” cried old Cardot; “and + look at the broken glasses! What pillage! The antechamber actually makes + me shudder—” + </p> + <p> + At this instant the wrathful old gentleman stopped short as if magnetized, + like a bird which a snake is charming. He saw the outline of a form in a + black coat through the door of the boudoir. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, Mademoiselle Cabirolle!” he said at last. + </p> + <p> + “Well, what?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + The eyes of the danseuse followed those of the little old man; and when + she recognized the presence of the clerk she went off into such fits of + laughter that not only was the old gentleman nonplussed, but Oscar was + compelled to appear; for Florentine took him by the arm, still pealing + with laughter at the conscience-stricken faces of the uncle and nephew. + </p> + <p> + “You here, nephew?” + </p> + <p> + “Nephew! so he’s your nephew?” cried Florentine, with another burst of + laughter. “You never told me about him. Why didn’t Mariette carry you + off?” she said to Oscar, who stood there petrified. “What can he do now, + poor boy?” + </p> + <p> + “Whatever he pleases!” said Cardot, sharply, marching to the door as if to + go away. + </p> + <p> + “One moment, papa Cardot. You will be so good as to get your nephew out of + a scrape into which I led him; for he played the money of his master and + lost it, and I lend him a thousand francs to win it back, and he lost that + too.” + </p> + <p> + “Miserable boy! you lost fifteen hundred francs at play at your age?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, uncle, uncle!” cried poor Oscar, plunged by these words into all the + horrors of his position, and falling on his knees before his uncle, with + clasped hands, “It is twelve o’clock! I am lost, dishonored! Monsieur + Desroches will have no pity! He gave me the money for an important affair, + in which his pride was concerned. I was to get a paper at the Palais in + the case of Vandernesse versus Vandernesse! What will become of me? Oh, + save me for the sake of my father and aunt! Come with me to Monsieur + Desroches, and explain it to him; make some excuse,—anything!” + </p> + <p> + These sentences were jerked out through sobs and tears that might have + moved the sphinx of Luxor. + </p> + <p> + “Old skinflint!” said the danseuse, who was crying, “will you let your own + nephew be dishonored,—the son of the man to whom you owe your + fortune?—for his name is Oscar Husson. Save him, or Titine will deny + you forever!” + </p> + <p> + “But how did he come here?” asked Cardot. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t you see that the reason he forgot to go for those papers was + because he was drunk and overslept himself. Georges and his cousin + Frederic took all the clerks in his office to a feast at the Rocher de + Cancale.” + </p> + <p> + Pere Cardot looked at Florentine and hesitated. + </p> + <p> + “Come, come,” she said, “you old monkey, shouldn’t I have hid him better + if there had been anything else in it?” + </p> + <p> + “There, take your five hundred francs, you scamp!” said Cardot to his + nephew, “and remember, that’s the last penny you’ll ever get from me. Go + and make it up with your master if you can. I’ll return the thousand + francs which you borrowed of mademoiselle; but I’ll never hear another + word about you.” + </p> + <p> + Oscar disappeared, not wishing to hear more. Once in the street, however, + he knew not where to go. + </p> + <p> + Chance which destroys men and chance which saves them were both making + equal efforts for and against Oscar during that fateful morning. But he + was doomed to fall before a master who forgave no failure in any affair he + had once undertaken. When Mariette reached home that night, she felt + alarmed at what might happen to the youth in whom her brother took + interest and she wrote a hasty note to Godeschal, telling him what had + happened to Oscar and inclosing a bank bill for five hundred francs to + repair his loss. The kind-hearted creature went to sleep after charging + her maid to carry the little note to Desroches’ office before seven + o’clock in the morning. Godeschal, on his side, getting up at six and + finding that Oscar had not returned, guessed what had happened. He took + the five hundred francs from his own little hoard and rushed to the + Palais, where he obtained a copy of the judgment and returned in time to + lay it before Desroches by eight o’clock. + </p> + <p> + Meantime Desroches, who always rose at four, was in his office by seven. + Mariette’s maid, not finding the brother of her mistress in his bedroom, + came down to the office and there met Desroches, to whom she very + naturally offered the note. + </p> + <p> + “Is it about business?” he said; “I am Monsieur Desroches.” + </p> + <p> + “You can see, monsieur,” replied the maid. + </p> + <p> + Desroches opened the letter and read it. Finding the five-hundred-franc + note, he went into his private office furiously angry with his second + clerk. About half-past seven he heard Godeschal dictating to the second + head-clerk a copy of the document in question, and a few moments later the + good fellow entered his master’s office with an air of triumph in his + heart. + </p> + <p> + “Did Oscar Husson fetch the paper this morning from Simon?” inquired + Desroches. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, monsieur.” + </p> + <p> + “Who gave him the money?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, you did, Saturday,” replied Godeschal. + </p> + <p> + “Then it rains five-hundred-franc notes,” cried Desroches. “Look here, + Godeschal, you are a fine fellow, but that little Husson does not deserve + such generosity. I hate idiots, but I hate still more the men who will go + wrong in spite of the fatherly care which watches over them.” He gave + Godeschal Mariette’s letter and the five-hundred-franc note which she had + sent. “You must excuse my having opened it,” he said, “but your sister’s + maid told me it was on business. Dismiss Husson.” + </p> + <p> + “Poor unhappy boy! what grief he has caused me!” said Godeschal, “that + tall ne’er-do-well of a Georges Marest is his evil genius; he ought to + flee him like the plague; if not, he’ll bring him to some third disgrace.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean by that?” asked Desroches. + </p> + <p> + Godeschal then related briefly the affair of the journey to Presles. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! yes,” said the lawyer, “I remember Joseph Bridau told me that story + about the time it happened. It is to that meeting that we owe the favor + Monsieur de Serizy has since shown in the matter of Joseph’s brother, + Philippe Bridau.” + </p> + <p> + At this moment Moreau, to whom the case of the Vandernesse estate was of + much importance, entered the office. The marquis wished to sell the land + in parcels and the count was opposed to such a sale. The land-agent + received therefore the first fire of Desroches’ wrath against his + ex-second clerk and all the threatening prophecies which he fulminated + against him. The result was that this most sincere friend and protector of + the unhappy youth came to the conclusion that his vanity was incorrigible. + </p> + <p> + “Make him a barrister,” said Desroches. “He has only his last examination + to pass. In that line, his defects might prove virtues, for self-love and + vanity give tongues to half the attorneys.” + </p> + <p> + At this time Clapart, who was ill, was being nursed by his wife,—a + painful task, a duty without reward. The sick man tormented the poor + creature, who was now doomed to learn what venomous and spiteful teasing a + half-imbecile man, whom poverty had rendered craftily savage, could be + capable of in the weary tete-a-tete of each endless day. Delighted to turn + a sharpened arrow in the sensitive heart of the mother, he had, in a + measure, studied the fears that Oscar’s behavior and defects inspired in + the poor woman. When a mother receives from her child a shock like that of + the affair at Presles, she continues in a state of constant fear, and, by + the manner in which his wife boasted of Oscar every time he obtained the + slightest success, Clapart knew the extent of her secret uneasiness, and + he took pains to rouse it on every occasion. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Madame,” Clapart would say, “Oscar is doing better than I even + hoped. That journey to Presles was only a heedlessness of youth. Where can + you find young lads who do not commit just such faults? Poor child! he + bears his privations heroically! If his father had lived, he would never + have had any. God grant he may know how to control his passions!” etc., + etc. + </p> + <p> + While all these catastrophes were happening in the rue de Vendome and the + rue de Bethisy, Clapart, sitting in the chimney corner, wrapped in an old + dressing-gown, watched his wife, who was engaged over the fire in their + bedroom in simultaneously making the family broth, Clapart’s “tisane,” and + her own breakfast. + </p> + <p> + “Mon Dieu! I wish I knew how the affair of yesterday ended. Oscar was to + breakfast at the Rocher de Cancale and spend the evening with a marquise—” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t trouble yourself! Sooner or later you’ll find out about your swan,” + said her husband. “Do you really believe in that marquise? Pooh! A young + man who has senses and a taste for extravagance like Oscar can find such + ladies as that on every bush—if he pays for them. Some fine morning + you’ll find yourself with a load of debt on your back.” + </p> + <p> + “You are always trying to put me in despair!” cried Madame Clapart. “You + complained that my son lived on your salary, and never has he cost you a + penny. For two years you haven’t had the slightest cause of complaint + against him; here he is second clerk, his uncle and Monsieur Moreau pay + all expenses, and he earns, himself, a salary of eight hundred francs. If + we have bread to eat in our old age we may owe it all to that dear boy. + You are really too unjust—” + </p> + <p> + “You call my foresight unjust, do you?” replied the invalid, crossly. + </p> + <p> + Just then the bell rang loudly. Madame Clapart ran to open the door, and + remained in the outer room with Moreau, who had come to soften the blow + which Oscar’s new folly would deal to the heart of his poor mother. + </p> + <p> + “What! he gambled with the money of the office?” she cried, bursting into + tears. + </p> + <p> + “Didn’t I tell you so, hey?” said Clapart, appearing like a spectre at the + door of the salon whither his curiosity had brought him. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! what shall we do with him?” said Madame Clapart, whose grief made her + impervious to Clapart’s taunt. + </p> + <p> + “If he bore my name,” replied Moreau, “I should wait composedly till he + draws for the conscription, and if he gets a fatal number I should not + provide him with a substitute. This is the second time your son has + committed a folly out of sheer vanity. Well, vanity may inspire fine deeds + in war and may advance him in the career of a soldier. Besides, six years + of military service will put some lead into his head; and as he has only + his last legal examination to pass, it won’t be much ill-luck for him if + he doesn’t become a lawyer till he is twenty-six; that is, if he wants to + continue in the law after paying, as they say, his tax of blood. By that + time, at any rate, he will have been severely punished, he will have + learned experience, and contracted habits of subordination. Before making + his probation at the bar he will have gone through his probations in + life.” + </p> + <p> + “If that is your decision for a son,” said Madame Clapart, “I see that the + heart of a father is not like that of a mother. My poor Oscar a common + soldier!—” + </p> + <p> + “Would you rather he flung himself headforemost into the Seine after + committing a dishonorable action? He cannot now become a solicitor; do you + think him steady and wise enough to be a barrister? No. While his reason + is maturing, what will he become? A dissipated fellow. The discipline of + the army will, at least, preserve him from that.” + </p> + <p> + “Could he not go into some other office? His uncle Cardot has promised to + pay for his substitute; Oscar is to dedicate his graduating thesis to + him.” + </p> + <p> + At this moment carriage-wheels were heard, and a hackney-coach containing + Oscar and all his worldly belongings stopped before the door. The luckless + young man came up at once. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! here you are, Monsieur Joli-Coeur!” cried Clapart. + </p> + <p> + Oscar kissed his mother, and held out to Moreau a hand which the latter + refused to take. To this rebuff Oscar replied by a reproachful look, the + boldness of which he had never shown before. Then he turned on Clapart. + </p> + <p> + “Listen to me, monsieur,” said the youth, transformed into a man. “You + worry my poor mother devilishly, and that’s your right, for she is, + unfortunately, your wife. But as for me, it is another thing. I shall be + of age in a few months; and you have no rights over me even as a minor. I + have never asked anything of you. Thanks to Monsieur Moreau, I have never + cost you one penny, and I owe you no gratitude. Therefore, I say, let me + alone!” + </p> + <p> + Clapart, hearing this apostrophe, slunk back to his sofa in the chimney + corner. The reasoning and the inward fury of the young man, who had just + received a lecture from his friend Godeschal, silenced the imbecile mind + of the sick man. + </p> + <p> + “A momentary temptation, such as you yourself would have yielded to at my + age,” said Oscar to Moreau, “has made me commit a fault which Desroches + thinks serious, though it is only a peccadillo. I am more provoked with + myself for taking Florentine of the Gaiete for a marquise than I am for + losing fifteen hundred francs after a little debauch in which everybody, + even Godeschal, was half-seas over. This time, at any rate, I’ve hurt no + one by myself. I’m cured of such things forever. If you are willing to + help me, Monsieur Moreau, I swear to you that the six years I must still + stay a clerk before I can get a practice shall be spent without—” + </p> + <p> + “Stop there!” said Moreau. “I have three children, and I can make no + promises.” + </p> + <p> + “Never mind, never mind,” said Madame Clapart to her son, casting a + reproachful glance at Moreau. “Your uncle Cardot—” + </p> + <p> + “I have no longer an uncle Cardot,” replied Oscar, who related the scene + at the rue de Vendome. + </p> + <p> + Madame Clapart, feeling her legs give way under the weight of her body, + staggered to a chair in the dining-room, where she fell as if struck by + lightning. + </p> + <p> + “All the miseries together!” she said, as she fainted. + </p> + <p> + Moreau took the poor mother in his arms, and carried her to the bed in her + chamber. Oscar remained motionless, as if crushed. + </p> + <p> + “There is nothing left for you,” said Moreau, coming back to him, “but to + make yourself a soldier. That idiot of a Clapart looks to me as though he + couldn’t live three months, and then your mother will be without a penny. + Ought I not, therefore, to reserve for her the little money I am able to + give? It was impossible to tell you this before her. As a soldier, you’ll + eat plain bread and reflect on life such as it is to those who are born + into it without fortune.” + </p> + <p> + “I may get a lucky number,” said Oscar. + </p> + <p> + “Suppose you do, what then? Your mother has well fulfilled her duty + towards you. She gave you an education; she placed you on the right road, + and secured you a career. You have left it. Now, what can you do? Without + money, nothing; as you know by this time. You are not a man who can begin + a new career by taking off your coat and going to work in your + shirt-sleeves with the tools of an artisan. Besides, your mother loves + you, and she would die to see you come to that.” + </p> + <p> + Oscar sat down and no longer restrained his tears, which flowed copiously. + At last he understood this language, so completely unintelligible to him + ever since his first fault. + </p> + <p> + “Men without means ought to be perfect,” added Moreau, not suspecting the + profundity of that cruel sentence. + </p> + <p> + “My fate will soon be decided,” said Oscar. “I draw my number the day + after to-morrow. Between now and then I will decide upon my future.” + </p> + <p> + Moreau, deeply distressed in spite of his stern bearing, left the + household in the rue de la Cerisaie to its despair. + </p> + <p> + Three days later Oscar drew the number twenty-seven. In the interests of + the poor lad the former steward of Presles had the courage to go to the + Comte de Serizy and ask for his influence to get Oscar into the cavalry. + It happened that the count’s son, having left the Ecole Polytechnique + rather low in his class, was appointed, as a favor, sub-lieutenant in a + regiment of cavalry commanded by the Duc de Maufrigneuse. Oscar had, + therefore, in his great misfortune, the small luck of being, at the Comte + de Serizy’s instigation, drafted into that noble regiment, with the + promise of promotion to quartermaster within a year. Chance had thus + placed the ex-clerk under the command of the son of the Comte de Serizy. + </p> + <p> + Madame Clapart, after languishing for some days, so keenly was she + affected by these catastrophes, became a victim to the remorse which + seizes upon many a mother whose conduct has been frail in her youth, and + who, in her old age, turns to repentance. She now considered herself under + a curse. She attributed the sorrows of her second marriage and the + misfortunes of her son to a just retribution by which God was compelling + her to expiate the errors and pleasures of her youth. This opinion soon + became a certainty in her mind. The poor woman went, for the first time in + forty years, to confess herself to the Abbe Gaudron, vicar of + Saint-Paul’s, who led her into the practice of devotion. But so ill-used + and loving a soul as that of Madame Clapart’s could never be anything but + simply pious. The Aspasia of the Directory wanted to expiate her sins in + order to draw down the blessing of God on the head of her poor Oscar, and + she henceforth vowed herself to works and deeds of the purest piety. She + believed she had won the attention of heaven when she saved the life of + Monsieur Clapart, who, thanks to her devotion, lived on to torture her; + but she chose to see, in the tyranny of that imbecile mind, a trial + inflicted by the hand of one who loveth while he chasteneth. + </p> + <p> + Oscar, meantime, behaved so well that in 1830 he was first sergeant of the + company of the Vicomte de Serizy, which gave him the rank of + sub-lieutenant of the line. Oscar Husson was by that time twenty-five + years old. As the Royal Guard, to which his regiment was attached, was + always in garrison in Paris, or within a circumference of thirty miles + around the capital, he came to see his mother from time to time, and tell + her his griefs; for he had the sense to see that he could never become an + officer as matters then were. At that time the cavalry grades were all + being taken up by the younger sons of noble families, and men without the + article to their names found promotion difficult. Oscar’s sole ambition + was to leave the Guards and be appointed sub-lieutenant in a regiment of + the cavalry of the line. In the month of February, 1830, Madame Clapart + obtained this promotion for her son through the influence of Madame la + Dauphine, granted to the Abbe Gaudron, now rector of Saint-Pauls. + </p> + <p> + Although Oscar outwardly professed to be devoted to the Bourbons, in the + depths of his heart he was a liberal. Therefore, in the struggle of 1830, + he went over to the side of the people. This desertion, which had an + importance due to the crisis in which it took place, brought him before + the eyes of the public. During the excitement of triumph in the month of + August he was promoted lieutenant, received the cross of the Legion of + honor, and was attached as aide-de-camp to La Fayette, who gave him the + rank of captain in 1832. When the amateur of the best of all possible + republics was removed from the command of the National guard, Oscar + Husson, whose devotion to the new dynasty amounted to fanaticism, was + appointed major of a regiment sent to Africa at the time of the first + expedition undertaken by the Prince-royal. The Vicomte de Serizy chanced + to be the lieutenant-colonel of this regiment. At the affair of the Makta, + where the field had to be abandoned to the Arabs, Monsieur de Serizy was + left wounded under a dead horse. Oscar, discovering this, called out to + the squadron: + </p> + <p> + “Messieurs, it is going to death, but we cannot abandon our colonel.” + </p> + <p> + He dashed upon the enemy, and his electrified soldiers followed him. The + Arabs, in their first astonishment at this furious and unlooked-for + return, allowed Oscar to seize the viscount, whom he flung across his + horse, and carried off at full gallop,—receiving, as he did so, two + slashes from yataghans on his left arm. + </p> + <p> + Oscar’s conduct on this occasion was rewarded with the officer’s cross of + the Legion of honor, and by his promotion to the rank of + lieutenant-colonel. He took the most affectionate care of the Vicomte de + Serizy, whose mother came to meet him on the arrival of the regiment at + Toulon, where, as we know, the young man died of his wounds. + </p> + <p> + The Comtesse de Serizy had not separated her son from the man who had + shown him such devotion. Oscar himself was so seriously wounded that the + surgeons whom the countess had brought with her from Paris thought best to + amputate his left arm. + </p> + <p> + Thus the Comte de Serizy was led not only to forgive Oscar for his painful + remarks on the journey to Presles, but to feel himself his debtor on + behalf of his son, now buried in the chapel of the chateau de Serizy. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XI. OSCAR’S LAST BLUNDER + </h2> + <p> + Some years after the affair at Makta, an old lady, dressed in black, + leaning on the arm of a man about thirty-four years of age, in whom + observers would recognize a retired officer, from the loss of an arm and + the rosette of the Legion of honor in his button-hole, was standing, at + eight o’clock, one morning in the month of May, under the porte-cochere of + the Lion d’Argent, rue de Faubourg Saint-Denis, waiting, apparently, for + the departure of a diligence. Undoubtedly Pierrotin, the master of the + line of coaches running through the valley of the Oise (despatching one + through Saint-Leu-Taverny and Isle-Adam to Beaumont), would scarcely have + recognized in this bronzed and maimed officer the little Oscar Husson he + had formerly taken to Presles. Madame Husson, at last a widow, was as + little recognizable as her son. Clapart, a victim of Fieschi’s machine, + had served his wife better by death than by all his previous life. The + idle lounger was hanging about, as usual, on the boulevard du Temple, + gazing at the show, when the explosion came. The poor widow was put upon + the pension list, made expressly for the families of the victim, at + fifteen hundred francs a year. + </p> + <p> + The coach, to which were harnessed four iron-gray horses that would have + done honor to the Messageries-royales, was divided into three + compartments, coupe, interieur, and rotonde, with an imperiale above. It + resembled those diligences called “Gondoles,” which now ply, in rivalry + with the railroad, between Paris and Versailles. Both solid and light, + well-painted and well-kept, lined with fine blue cloth, and furnished with + blinds of a Moorish pattern and cushions of red morocco, the “Swallow of + the Oise” could carry, comfortably, nineteen passengers. Pierrotin, now + about fifty-six years old, was little changed. Still dressed in a blue + blouse, beneath which he wore a black suit, he smoked his pipe, and + superintended the two porters in livery, who were stowing away the luggage + in the great imperiale. + </p> + <p> + “Are your places taken?” he said to Madame Clapart and Oscar, eyeing them + like a man who is trying to recall a likeness to his memory. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, two places for the interieur in the name of my servant, Bellejambe,” + replied Oscar; “he must have taken them last evening.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! monsieur is the new collector of Beaumont,” said Pierrotin. “You take + the place of Monsieur Margueron’s nephew?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” replied Oscar, pressing the arm of his mother, who was about to + speak. + </p> + <p> + The officer wished to remain unknown for a time. + </p> + <p> + Just then Oscar thrilled at hearing the well-remembered voice of Georges + Marest calling out from the street: “Pierrotin, have you one seat left?” + </p> + <p> + “It seems to me you could say ‘monsieur’ without cracking your throat,” + replied the master of the line of coaches of the Valley of the Oise, + sharply. + </p> + <p> + Unless by the sound of the voice, Oscar could never have recognized the + individual whose jokes had been so fatal to him. Georges, almost bald, + retained only three or four tufts of hair above his ears; but these were + elaborately frizzed out to conceal, as best they could, the nakedness of + the skull. A fleshiness ill-placed, in other words, a pear-shaped stomach, + altered the once elegant proportions of the ex-young man. Now almost + ignoble in appearance and bearing, Georges exhibited the traces of + disasters in love and a life of debauchery in his blotched skin and + bloated, vinous features. The eyes had lost the brilliancy, the vivacity + of youth which chaste or studious habits have the virtue to retain. + Dressed like a man who is careless of his clothes, Georges wore a pair of + shabby trousers, with straps intended for varnished boots; but his were of + leather, thick-soled, ill-blacked, and of many months’ wear. A faded + waistcoat, a cravat, pretentiously tied, although the material was a + worn-out foulard, bespoke the secret distress to which a former dandy + sometimes falls a prey. Moreover, Georges appeared at this hour of the + morning in an evening coat, instead of a surtout; a sure diagnostic of + actual poverty. This coat, which had seen long service at balls, had now, + like its master, passed from the opulent ease of former times to daily + work. The seams of the black cloth showed whitening lines; the collar was + greasy; long usage had frayed the edges of the sleeves into fringes. + </p> + <p> + And yet, Georges ventured to attract attention by yellow kid gloves, + rather dirty, it is true, on the outside of which a signet ring defined a + large dark spot. Round his cravat, which was slipped into a pretentious + gold ring, was a chain of silk, representing hair, which, no doubt, held a + watch. His hat, though worn rather jauntily, revealed, more than any of + the above symptoms, the poverty of a man who was totally unable to pay + sixteen francs to a hat-maker, being forced to live from hand to mouth. + The former admirer of Florentine twirled a cane with a chased gold knob, + which was horribly battered. The blue trousers, the waistcoat of a + material called “Scotch stuff,” a sky-blue cravat and a pink-striped + cotton shirt, expressed, in the midst of all this ruin, such a latent + desire to SHOW-OFF that the contrast was not only a sight to see, but a + lesson to be learned. + </p> + <p> + “And that is Georges!” said Oscar, in his own mind,—“a man I left in + possession of thirty thousand francs a year!” + </p> + <p> + “Has Monsieur <i>de</i> Pierrotin a place in the coupe?” asked Georges, + ironically replying to Pierrotin’s rebuff. + </p> + <p> + “No; my coupe is taken by a peer of France, the son-in-law of Monsieur + Moreau, Monsieur le Baron de Canalis, his wife, and his mother-in-law. I + have nothing left but one place in the interieur.” + </p> + <p> + “The devil! so peers of France still travel in your coach, do they?” said + Georges, remembering his adventure with the Comte de Serizy. “Well, I’ll + take that place in the interieur.” + </p> + <p> + He cast a glance of examination on Oscar and his mother, but did not + recognize them. + </p> + <p> + Oscar’s skin was now bronzed by the sun of Africa; his moustache was very + thick and his whiskers ample; the hollows in his cheeks and his strongly + marked features were in keeping with his military bearing. The rosette of + an officer of the Legion of honor, his missing arm, the strict propriety + of his dress, would all have diverted Georges recollections of his former + victim if he had had any. As for Madame Clapart, whom Georges had scarcely + seen, ten years devoted to the exercise of the most severe piety had + transformed her. No one would ever have imagined that that gray sister + concealed the Aspasia of 1797. + </p> + <p> + An enormous old man, very simply dressed, though his clothes were good and + substantial, in whom Oscar recognized Pere Leger, here came slowly and + heavily along. He nodded familiarly to Pierrotin, who appeared by his + manner to pay him the respect due in all lands to millionaires. + </p> + <p> + “Ha! ha! why, here’s Pere Leger! more and more preponderant!” cried + Georges. + </p> + <p> + “To whom have I the honor of speaking?” asked old Leger, curtly. + </p> + <p> + “What! you don’t recognize Colonel Georges, the friend of Ali pacha? We + travelled together once upon a time, in company with the Comte de Serizy.” + </p> + <p> + One of the habitual follies of those who have fallen in the world is to + recognize and desire the recognition of others. + </p> + <p> + “You are much changed,” said the ex-farmer, now twice a millionaire. + </p> + <p> + “All things change,” said Georges. “Look at the Lion d’Argent and + Pierrotin’s coach; they are not a bit like what they were fourteen years + ago.” + </p> + <p> + “Pierrotin now controls the whole service of the Valley of the Oise,” + replied Monsieur Leger, “and sends out five coaches. He is the bourgeois + of Beaumont, where he keeps a hotel, at which all the diligences stop, and + he has a wife and daughter who are not a bad help to him.” + </p> + <p> + An old man of seventy here came out of the hotel and joined the group of + travellers who were waiting to get into the coach. + </p> + <p> + “Come along, Papa Reybert,” said Leger, “we are only waiting now for your + great man.” + </p> + <p> + “Here he comes,” said the steward of Presles, pointing to Joseph Bridau. + </p> + <p> + Neither Georges nor Oscar recognized the illustrious artist, for his face + had the worn and haggard lines that were now famous, and his bearing was + that which is given by success. The ribbon of the Legion of honor adorned + his black coat, and the rest of his dress, which was extremely elegant, + seemed to denote an expedition to some rural fete. + </p> + <p> + At this moment a clerk, with a paper in his hand, came out of the office + (which was now in the former kitchen of the Lion d’Argent), and stood + before the empty coupe. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur and Madame de Canalis, three places,” he said. Then, moving to + the door of the interieur, he named, consecutively, “Monsieur Bellejambe, + two places; Monsieur de Reybert, three places; Monsieur—your name, + if you please?” he said to Georges. + </p> + <p> + “Georges Marest,” said the fallen man, in a low voice. + </p> + <p> + The clerk then moved to the rotunde, before which were grouped a number of + nurses, country-people, and petty shopkeepers, who were bidding each other + adieu. Then, after bundling in the six passengers, he called to four young + men who mounted to the imperial; after which he cried: “Start!” Pierrotin + got up beside his driver, a young man in a blouse, who called out: “Pull!” + to his animals, and the vehicle, drawn by four horses brought at Roye, + mounted the rise of the faubourg Saint-Denis at a slow trot. + </p> + <p> + But no sooner had it got above Saint-Laurent than it raced like a + mail-cart to Saint-Denis, which it reached in forty minutes. No stop was + made at the cheese-cake inn, and the coach took the road through the + valley of Montmorency. + </p> + <p> + It was at the turn into this road that Georges broke the silence which the + travellers had so far maintained while observing each other. + </p> + <p> + “We go a little faster than we did fifteen years ago, hey, Pere Leger?” he + said, pulling out a silver watch. + </p> + <p> + “Persons are usually good enough to call me Monsieur Leger,” said the + millionaire. + </p> + <p> + “Why, here’s our blagueur of the famous journey to Presles,” cried Joseph + Bridau. “Have you made any new campaigns in Asia, Africa, or America?” + </p> + <p> + “Sacrebleu! I’ve made the revolution of July, and that’s enough for me, + for it ruined me.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! you made the revolution of July!” cried the painter, laughing. “Well, + I always said it never made itself.” + </p> + <p> + “How people meet again!” said Monsieur Leger, turning to Monsieur de + Reybert. “This, papa Reybert, is the clerk of the notary to whom you + undoubtedly owe the stewardship of Presles.” + </p> + <p> + “We lack Mistigris, now famous under his own name of Leon de Lora,” said + Joseph Bridau, “and the little young man who was stupid enough to talk to + the count about those skin diseases which are now cured, and about his + wife, whom he has recently left that he may die in peace.” + </p> + <p> + “And the count himself, you lack him,” said old Reybert. + </p> + <p> + “I’m afraid,” said Joseph Bridau, sadly, “that the last journey the count + will ever take will be from Presles to Isle-Adam, to be present at my + marriage.” + </p> + <p> + “He still drives about the park,” said Reybert. + </p> + <p> + “Does his wife come to see him?” asked Leger. + </p> + <p> + “Once a month,” replied Reybert. “She is never happy out of Paris. Last + September she married her niece, Mademoiselle du Rouvre, on whom, since + the death of her son, she spends all her affection, to a very rich young + Pole, the Comte Laginski.” + </p> + <p> + “To whom,” asked Madame Clapart, “will Monsieur de Serizy’s property go?” + </p> + <p> + “To his wife, who will bury him,” replied Georges. “The countess is still + fine-looking for a woman of fifty-four years of age. She is very elegant, + and, at a little distance, gives one the illusion—” + </p> + <p> + “She will always be an illusion to you,” said Leger, who seemed inclined + to revenge himself on his former hoaxer. + </p> + <p> + “I respect her,” said Georges. “But, by the bye, what became of that + steward whom the count turned off?” + </p> + <p> + “Moreau?” said Leger; “why, he’s the deputy from the Oise.” + </p> + <p> + “Ha! the famous Centre man; Moreau de l’Oise?” cried Georges. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” returned Leger, “Moreau de l’Oise. He did more than you for the + revolution of July, and he has since then bought the beautiful estate of + Pointel, between Presles and Beaumont.” + </p> + <p> + “Next to the count’s,” said Georges. “I call that very bad taste.” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t speak so loud,” said Monsieur de Reybert, “for Madame Moreau and + her daughter, the Baronne de Canalis, and the Baron himself, the former + minister, are in the coupe.” + </p> + <p> + “What ‘dot’ could he have given his daughter to induce our great orator to + marry her?” said Georges. + </p> + <p> + “Something like two millions,” replied old Leger. + </p> + <p> + “He always had a taste for millions,” remarked Georges. “He began his pile + surreptitiously at Presles—” + </p> + <p> + “Say nothing against Monsieur Moreau,” cried Oscar, hastily. “You ought to + have learned before now to hold your tongue in public conveyances.” + </p> + <p> + Joseph Bridau looked at the one-armed officer for several seconds; then he + said, smiling:— + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur is not an ambassador, but his rosette tells us he has made his + way nobly; my brother and General Giroudeau have repeatedly named him in + their reports.” + </p> + <p> + “Oscar Husson!” cried Georges. “Faith! if it hadn’t been for your voice I + should never have known you.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! it was monsieur who so bravely rescued the Vicomte Jules de Serizy + from the Arabs?” said Reybert, “and for whom the count has obtained the + collectorship of Beaumont while awaiting that of Pontoise?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, monsieur,” said Oscar. + </p> + <p> + “I hope you will give me the pleasure, monsieur,” said the great painter, + “of being present at my marriage at Isle-Adam.” + </p> + <p> + “Whom do you marry?” asked Oscar, after accepting the invitation. + </p> + <p> + “Mademoiselle Leger,” replied Joseph Bridau, “the granddaughter of + Monsieur de Reybert. Monsieur le comte was kind enough to arrange the + marriage for me. As an artist I owe him a great deal, and he wished, + before his death, to secure my future, about which I did not think, + myself.” + </p> + <p> + “Whom did Pere Leger marry?” asked Georges. + </p> + <p> + “My daughter,” replied Monsieur de Reybert, “and without a ‘dot.’” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” said Georges, assuming a more respectful manner toward Monsieur + Leger, “I am fortunate in having chosen this particular day to do the + valley of the Oise. You can all be useful to me, gentlemen.” + </p> + <p> + “How so?” asked Monsieur Leger. + </p> + <p> + “In this way,” replied Georges. “I am employed by the ‘Esperance,’ a + company just formed, the statutes of which have been approved by an + ordinance of the King. This institution gives, at the end of ten years, + dowries to young girls, annuities to old men; it pays the education of + children, and takes charge, in short, of the fortunes of everybody.” + </p> + <p> + “I can well believe it,” said Pere Leger, smiling. “In a word, you are a + runner for an insurance company.” + </p> + <p> + “No, monsieur. I am the inspector-general; charged with the duty of + establishing correspondents and appointing the agents of the company + throughout France. I am only operating until the agents are selected; for + it is a matter as delicate as it is difficult to find honest agents.” + </p> + <p> + “But how did you lose your thirty thousand a year?” asked Oscar. + </p> + <p> + “As you lost your arm,” replied the son of Czerni-Georges, curtly. + </p> + <p> + “Then you must have shared in some brilliant action,” remarked Oscar, with + a sarcasm not unmixed with bitterness. + </p> + <p> + “Parbleu! I’ve too many—shares! that’s just what I wanted to sell.” + </p> + <p> + By this time they had arrived at Saint-Leu-Taverny, where all the + passengers got out while the coach changed horses. Oscar admired the + liveliness which Pierrotin displayed in unhooking the traces from the + whiffle-trees, while his driver cleared the reins from the leaders. + </p> + <p> + “Poor Pierrotin,” thought he; “he has stuck like me,—not far + advanced in the world. Georges has fallen low. All the others, thanks to + speculation and to talent, have made their fortune. Do we breakfast here, + Pierrotin?” he said, aloud, slapping that worthy on the shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “I am not the driver,” said Pierrotin. + </p> + <p> + “What are you, then?” asked Colonel Husson. + </p> + <p> + “The proprietor,” replied Pierrotin. + </p> + <p> + “Come, don’t be vexed with an old acquaintance,” said Oscar, motioning to + his mother, but still retaining his patronizing manner. “Don’t you + recognize Madame Clapart?” + </p> + <p> + It was all the nobler of Oscar to present his mother to Pierrotin, + because, at that moment, Madame Moreau de l’Oise, getting out of the + coupe, overheard the name, and stared disdainfully at Oscar and his + mother. + </p> + <p> + “My faith! madame,” said Pierrotin, “I should never have known you; nor + you, either, monsieur; the sun burns black in Africa, doesn’t it?” + </p> + <p> + The species of pity which Oscar thus felt for Pierrotin was the last + blunder that vanity ever led our hero to commit, and, like his other + faults, it was punished, but very gently, thus:— + </p> + <p> + Two months after his official installation at Beaumont-sur-Oise, Oscar was + paying his addresses to Mademoiselle Georgette Pierrotin, whose ‘dot’ + amounted to one hundred and fifty thousand francs, and he married the + pretty daughter of the proprietor of the stage-coaches of the Oise, toward + the close of the winter of 1838. + </p> + <p> + The adventure of the journey to Presles was a lesson to Oscar Husson in + discretion; his disaster at Florentine’s card-party strengthened him in + honesty and uprightness; the hardships of his military career taught him + to understand the social hierarchy and to yield obedience to his lot. + Becoming wise and capable, he was happy. The Comte de Serizy, before his + death, obtained for him the collectorship at Pontoise. The influence of + Monsieur Moreau de l’Oise and that of the Comtesse de Serizy and the Baron + de Canalis secured, in after years, a receiver-generalship for Monsieur + Husson, in whom the Camusot family now recognize a relation. + </p> + <p> + Oscar is a commonplace man, gentle, without assumption, modest, and always + keeping, like his government, to a middle course. He excites neither envy + nor contempt. In short, he is the modern bourgeois. + </p> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0013" id="link2H_4_0013"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h2> + ADDENDUM + </h2> + <h3> + The following personages appear in other stories of the Human Comedy. + </h3> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Beaupre, Fanny + Modest Mignon + The Muse of the Department + Scenes from a Courtesan’s Life + + Bridau, Joseph + The Purse + A Bachelor’s Establishment + A Distinguished Provincial at Paris + Modeste Mignon + Another Study of Woman + Pierre Grassou + Letters of Two Brides + Cousin Betty + The Member for Arcis + + Bruel, Jean Francois du + A Bachelor’s Establishment + The Government Clerks + A Prince of Bohemia + The Middle Classes + A Distinguished Provincial at Paris + A Daughter of Eve + + Cabirolle, Madame + A Bachelor’s Establishment + + Cabirolle, Agathe-Florentine + Lost Illusions + A Distinguished Provincial at Paris + A Bachelor’s Establishment + + Canalis, Constant-Cyr-Melchior, Baron de + Letters of Two Brides + A Distinguished Provincial at Paris + Modeste Mignon + The Magic Skin + Another Study of Woman + Beatrix + The Unconscious Humorists + The Member for Arcis + + Cardot, Jean-Jerome-Severin + Lost Illusions + A Distinguished Provincial at Paris + A Bachelor’s Establishment + At the Sign of the Cat and Racket + Cesar Birotteau + + Coralie, Mademoiselle + A Distinguished Provincial at Paris + A Bachelor’s Establishment + + Crottat, Alexandre + Cesar Birotteau + Colonel Chabert + A Woman of Thirty + Cousin Pons + + Derville + Gobseck + The Gondreville Mystery + Father Goriot + Colonel Chabert + Scenes from a Courtesan’s Life + + Desroches (son) + A Bachelor’s Establishment + Colonel Chabert + A Woman of Thirty + The Commission in Lunacy + The Government Clerks + A Distinguished Provincial at Paris + Scenes from a Courtesan’s Life + The Firm of Nucingen + A Man of Business + The Middle Classes + + Finot, Andoche + Cesar Birotteau + A Bachelor’s Establishment + A Distinguished Provincial at Paris + Scenes from a Courtesan’s Life + The Government Clerks + Gaudissart the Great + The Firm of Nucingen + + Gaudron, Abbe + The Government Clerks + Honorine + + Giroudeau + A Distinguished Provincial at Paris + A Bachelor’s Establishment + + Godeschal, Francois-Claude-Marie + Colonel Chabert + A Bachelor’s Establishment + The Commission in Lunacy + The Middle Classes + Cousin Pons + + Godeschal, Marie + A Bachelor’s Establishment + Scenes from a Courtesan’s Life + Cousin Pons + + Gondreville, Malin, Comte de + The Gondreville Mystery + Domestic Peace + The Member for Arcis + + Grevin + The Gondreville Mystery + The Member for Arcis + + Grindot + Cesar Birotteau + Lost Illusions + A Distinguished Provincial at Paris + Scenes from a Courtesan’s Life + Beatrix + The Middle Classes + Cousin Betty + + Lora, Leon de + The Unconscious Humorists + A Bachelor’s Establishment + Pierre Grassou + Honorine + Cousin Betty + Beatrix + + Loraux, Abbe + A Bachelor’s Establishment + Cesar Birotteau + Honorine + + Lupin, Amaury + The Peasantry + + Marest, Frederic + The Seamy Side of History + The Member for Arcis + + Marest, Georges + The Peasantry + + Maufrigneuse, Duc de + The Secrets of a Princess + A Bachelor’s Establishment + Scenes from a Courtesan’s Life + + Poiret, the elder + The Government Clerks + Father Goriot + Scenes from a Courtesan’s Life + The Middle Classes + + Rouvre, Marquis du + The Imaginary Mistress + Ursule Mirouet + + Schinner, Hippolyte + The Purse + A Bachelor’s Establishment + Pierre Grassou + Albert Savarus + The Government Clerks + Modeste Mignon + The Imaginary Mistress + The Unconscious Humorists + + Serizy, Comte Hugret de + A Bachelor’s Establishment + Honorine + Modeste Mignon + Scenes from a Courtesan’s Life + + Serizy, Comtesse de + The Thirteen + Ursule Mirouet + A Woman of Thirty + Scenes from a Courtesan’s Life + Another Study of Woman + The Imaginary Mistress + + Serizy, Vicomte de + Modeste Mignon + The Imaginary Mistress + + Vandenesse, Marquis Charles de + A Woman of Thirty + A Daughter of Eve + + Vandenesse, Comte Felix de + The Lily of the Valley + Lost Illusions + A Distinguished Provincial at Paris + Cesar Birotteau + Letters of Two Brides + The Marriage Settlement + The Secrets of a Princess + Another Study of Woman + The Gondreville Mystery + A Daughter of Eve +</pre> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 1403 ***</div> +</body> +</html> |