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diff --git a/1749-h/1749-h.htm b/1749-h/1749-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..69ce542 --- /dev/null +++ b/1749-h/1749-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,21841 @@ +<?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> + Cousin Betty, 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> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Cousin Betty, by Honore de Balzac + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Cousin Betty + +Author: Honore de Balzac + +Translator: James Waring + +Release Date: March 1, 2010 [EBook #1749] +Last Updated: November 21, 2016 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK COUSIN BETTY *** + + + + +Produced by John Bickers, and Dagny, and David Widger + + + + + + +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h1> + COUSIN BETTY + </h1> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h2> + By Honore De Balzac + </h2> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h3> + Translated by James Waring + </h3> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + DEDICATION + + To Don Michele Angelo Cajetani, Prince of Teano. + + It is neither to the Roman Prince, nor to the representative of + the illustrious house of Cajetani, which has given more than one + Pope to the Christian Church, that I dedicate this short portion + of a long history; it is to the learned commentator of Dante. + + It was you who led me to understand the marvelous framework of + ideas on which the great Italian poet built his poem, the only + work which the moderns can place by that of Homer. Till I heard + you, the Divine Comedy was to me a vast enigma to which none had + found the clue—the commentators least of all. Thus, to understand + Dante is to be as great as he; but every form of greatness is + familiar to you. + + A French savant could make a reputation, earn a professor’s chair, + and a dozen decorations, by publishing in a dogmatic volume the + improvised lecture by which you lent enchantment to one of those + evenings which are rest after seeing Rome. You do not know, + perhaps, that most of our professors live on Germany, on England, + on the East, or on the North, as an insect lives on a tree; and, + like the insect, become an integral part of it, borrowing their + merit from that of what they feed on. Now, Italy hitherto has not + yet been worked out in public lectures. No one will ever give me + credit for my literary honesty. Merely by plundering you I might + have been as learned as three Schlegels in one, whereas I mean to + remain a humble Doctor of the Faculty of Social Medicine, a + veterinary surgeon for incurable maladies. Were it only to lay a + token of gratitude at the feet of my cicerone, I would fain add + your illustrious name to those of Porcia, of San-Severino, of + Pareto, of di Negro, and of Belgiojoso, who will represent in this + “Human Comedy” the close and constant alliance between Italy and + France, to which Bandello did honor in the same way in the + sixteenth century—Bandello, the bishop and author of some strange + tales indeed, who left us the splendid collection of romances + whence Shakespeare derived many of his plots and even complete + characters, word for word. + + The two sketches I dedicate to you are the two eternal aspects of + one and the same fact. Homo duplex, said the great Buffon: why not + add Res duplex? Everything has two sides, even virtue. Hence + Moliere always shows us both sides of every human problem; and + Diderot, imitating him, once wrote, “This is not a mere tale”—in + what is perhaps Diderot’s masterpiece, where he shows us the + beautiful picture of Mademoiselle de Lachaux sacrificed by + Gardanne, side by side with that of a perfect lover dying for his + mistress. + + In the same way, these two romances form a pair, like twins of + opposite sexes. This is a literary vagary to which a writer may + for once give way, especially as part of a work in which I am + endeavoring to depict every form that can serve as a garb to mind. + + Most human quarrels arise from the fact that both wise men and + dunces exist who are so constituted as to be incapable of seeing + more than one side of any fact or idea, while each asserts that + the side he sees is the only true and right one. Thus it is + written in the Holy Book, “God will deliver the world over to + divisions.” I must confess that this passage of Scripture alone + should persuade the Papal See to give you the control of the two + Chambers to carry out the text which found its commentary in 1814, + in the decree of Louis XVIII. + + May your wit and the poetry that is in you extend a protecting + hand over these two histories of “The Poor Relations” + + Of your affectionate humble servant, + + DE BALZAC. + PARIS, August-September, 1846. +</pre> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h3> + <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> <b>COUSIN BETTY</b> </a><br /><br /> <a + href="#link2H_4_0002"> 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> + COUSIN BETTY + </h1> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + One day, about the middle of July 1838, one of the carriages, then lately + introduced to Paris cabstands, and known as <i>Milords</i>, was driving + down the Rue de l’Universite, conveying a stout man of middle height in + the uniform of a captain of the National Guard. + </p> + <p> + Among the Paris crowd, who are supposed to be so clever, there are some + men who fancy themselves infinitely more attractive in uniform than in + their ordinary clothes, and who attribute to women so depraved a taste + that they believe they will be favorably impressed by the aspect of a + busby and of military accoutrements. + </p> + <p> + The countenance of this Captain of the Second Company beamed with a + self-satisfaction that added splendor to his ruddy and somewhat chubby + face. The halo of glory that a fortune made in business gives to a retired + tradesman sat on his brow, and stamped him as one of the elect of Paris—at + least a retired deputy-mayor of his quarter of the town. And you may be + sure that the ribbon of the Legion of Honor was not missing from his + breast, gallantly padded <i>a la Prussienne</i>. Proudly seated in one + corner of the <i>milord</i>, this splendid person let his gaze wander over + the passers-by, who, in Paris, often thus meet an ingratiating smile meant + for sweet eyes that are absent. + </p> + <p> + The vehicle stopped in the part of the street between the Rue de + Bellechasse and the Rue de Bourgogne, at the door of a large, newly-build + house, standing on part of the court-yard of an ancient mansion that had a + garden. The old house remained in its original state, beyond the courtyard + curtailed by half its extent. + </p> + <p> + Only from the way in which the officer accepted the assistance of the + coachman to help him out, it was plain that he was past fifty. There are + certain movements so undisguisedly heavy that they are as tell-tale as a + register of birth. The captain put on his lemon-colored right-hand glove, + and, without any question to the gatekeeper, went up the outer steps to + the ground of the new house with a look that proclaimed, “She is mine!” + </p> + <p> + The <i>concierges</i> of Paris have sharp eyes; they do not stop visitors + who wear an order, have a blue uniform, and walk ponderously; in short, + they know a rich man when they see him. + </p> + <p> + This ground floor was entirely occupied by Monsieur le Baron Hulot d’Ervy, + Commissary General under the Republic, retired army contractor, and at the + present time at the head of one of the most important departments of the + War Office, Councillor of State, officer of the Legion of Honor, and so + forth. + </p> + <p> + This Baron Hulot had taken the name of d’Ervy—the place of his birth—to + distinguish him from his brother, the famous General Hulot, Colonel of the + Grenadiers of the Imperial Guard, created by the Emperor Comte de Forzheim + after the campaign of 1809. The Count, the elder brother, being + responsible for his junior, had, with paternal care, placed him in the + commissariat, where, thanks to the services of the two brothers, the Baron + deserved and won Napoleon’s good graces. After 1807, Baron Hulot was + Commissary General for the army in Spain. + </p> + <p> + Having rung the bell, the citizen-captain made strenuous efforts to pull + his coat into place, for it had rucked up as much at the back as in front, + pushed out of shape by the working of a piriform stomach. Being admitted + as soon as the servant in livery saw him, the important and imposing + personage followed the man, who opened the door of the drawing-room, + announcing: + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur Crevel.” + </p> + <p> + On hearing the name, singularly appropriate to the figure of the man who + bore it, a tall, fair woman, evidently young-looking for her age, rose as + if she had received an electric shock. + </p> + <p> + “Hortense, my darling, go into the garden with your Cousin Betty,” she + said hastily to her daughter, who was working at some embroidery at her + mother’s side. + </p> + <p> + After curtseying prettily to the captain, Mademoiselle Hortense went out + by a glass door, taking with her a withered-looking spinster, who looked + older than the Baroness, though she was five years younger. + </p> + <p> + “They are settling your marriage,” said Cousin Betty in the girl’s ear, + without seeming at all offended at the way in which the Baroness had + dismissed them, counting her almost as zero. + </p> + <p> + The cousin’s dress might, at need, have explained this free-and-easy + demeanor. The old maid wore a merino gown of a dark plum color, of which + the cut and trimming dated from the year of the Restoration; a little + worked collar, worth perhaps three francs; and a common straw hat with + blue satin ribbons edged with straw plait, such as the old-clothes buyers + wear at market. On looking down at her kid shoes, made, it was evident, by + the veriest cobbler, a stranger would have hesitated to recognize Cousin + Betty as a member of the family, for she looked exactly like a + journeywoman sempstress. But she did not leave the room without bestowing + a little friendly nod on Monsieur Crevel, to which that gentleman + responded by a look of mutual understanding. + </p> + <p> + “You are coming to us to-morrow, I hope, Mademoiselle Fischer?” said he. + </p> + <p> + “You have no company?” asked Cousin Betty. + </p> + <p> + “My children and yourself, no one else,” replied the visitor. + </p> + <p> + “Very well,” replied she; “depend on me.” + </p> + <p> + “And here am I, madame, at your orders,” said the citizen-captain, bowing + again to Madame Hulot. + </p> + <p> + He gave such a look at Madame Hulot as Tartuffe casts at Elmire—when + a provincial actor plays the part and thinks it necessary to emphasize its + meaning—at Poitiers, or at Coutances. + </p> + <p> + “If you will come into this room with me, we shall be more conveniently + placed for talking business than we are in this room,” said Madame Hulot, + going to an adjoining room, which, as the apartment was arranged, served + as a cardroom. + </p> + <p> + It was divided by a slight partition from a boudoir looking out on the + garden, and Madame Hulot left her visitor to himself for a minute, for she + thought it wise to shut the window and the door of the boudoir, so that no + one should get in and listen. She even took the precaution of shutting the + glass door of the drawing-room, smiling on her daughter and her cousin, + whom she saw seated in an old summer-house at the end of the garden. As + she came back she left the cardroom door open, so as to hear if any one + should open that of the drawing-room to come in. + </p> + <p> + As she came and went, the Baroness, seen by nobody, allowed her face to + betray all her thoughts, and any one who could have seen her would have + been shocked to see her agitation. But when she finally came back from the + glass door of the drawing-room, as she entered the cardroom, her face was + hidden behind the impenetrable reserve which every woman, even the most + candid, seems to have at her command. + </p> + <p> + During all these preparations—odd, to say the least—the + National Guardsman studied the furniture of the room in which he found + himself. As he noted the silk curtains, once red, now faded to dull purple + by the sunshine, and frayed in the pleats by long wear; the carpet, from + which the hues had faded; the discolored gilding of the furniture; and the + silk seats, discolored in patches, and wearing into strips—expressions + of scorn, satisfaction, and hope dawned in succession without disguise on + his stupid tradesman’s face. He looked at himself in the glass over an old + clock of the Empire, and was contemplating the general effect, when the + rustle of her silk skirt announced the Baroness. He at once struck at + attitude. + </p> + <p> + After dropping on to a sofa, which had been a very handsome one in the + year 1809, the Baroness, pointing to an armchair with the arms ending in + bronze sphinxes’ heads, while the paint was peeling from the wood, which + showed through in many places, signed to Crevel to be seated. + </p> + <p> + “All the precautions you are taking, madame, would seem full of promise to + a——” + </p> + <p> + “To a lover,” said she, interrupting him. + </p> + <p> + “The word is too feeble,” said he, placing his right hand on his heart, + and rolling his eyes in a way which almost always makes a woman laugh when + she, in cold blood, sees such a look. “A lover! A lover? Say a man + bewitched——” + </p> + <p> + “Listen, Monsieur Crevel,” said the Baroness, too anxious to be able to + laugh, “you are fifty—ten years younger than Monsieur Hulot, I know; + but at my age a woman’s follies ought to be justified by beauty, youth, + fame, superior merit—some one of the splendid qualities which can + dazzle us to the point of making us forget all else—even at our age. + Though you may have fifty thousand francs a year, your age counterbalances + your fortune; thus you have nothing whatever of what a woman looks for——” + </p> + <p> + “But love!” said the officer, rising and coming forward. “Such love as——” + </p> + <p> + “No, monsieur, such obstinacy!” said the Baroness, interrupting him to put + an end to his absurdity. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, obstinacy,” said he, “and love; but something stronger still—a + claim——” + </p> + <p> + “A claim!” cried Madame Hulot, rising sublime with scorn, defiance, and + indignation. “But,” she went on, “this will bring us to no issues; I did + not ask you to come here to discuss the matter which led to your + banishment in spite of the connection between our families——” + </p> + <p> + “I had fancied so.” + </p> + <p> + “What! still?” cried she. “Do you not see, monsieur, by the entire ease + and freedom with which I can speak of lovers and love, of everything least + creditable to a woman, that I am perfectly secure in my own virtue? I fear + nothing—not even to shut myself in alone with you. Is that the + conduct of a weak woman? You know full well why I begged you to come.” + </p> + <p> + “No, madame,” replied Crevel, with an assumption of great coldness. He + pursed up his lips, and again struck an attitude. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I will be brief, to shorten our common discomfort,” said the + Baroness, looking at Crevel. + </p> + <p> + Crevel made an ironical bow, in which a man who knew the race would have + recognized the graces of a bagman. + </p> + <p> + “Our son married your daughter——” + </p> + <p> + “And if it were to do again——” said Crevel. + </p> + <p> + “It would not be done at all, I suspect,” said the baroness hastily. + “However, you have nothing to complain of. My son is not only one of the + leading pleaders of Paris, but for the last year he has sat as Deputy, and + his maiden speech was brilliant enough to lead us to suppose that ere long + he will be in office. Victorin has twice been called upon to report on + important measures; and he might even now, if he chose, be made + Attorney-General in the Court of Appeal. So, if you mean to say that your + son-in-law has no fortune——” + </p> + <p> + “Worse than that, madame, a son-in-law whom I am obliged to maintain,” + replied Crevel. “Of the five hundred thousand francs that formed my + daughter’s marriage portion, two hundred thousand have vanished—God + knows how!—in paying the young gentleman’s debts, in furnishing his + house splendaciously—a house costing five hundred thousand francs, + and bringing in scarcely fifteen thousand, since he occupies the larger + part of it, while he owes two hundred and sixty thousand francs of the + purchase-money. The rent he gets barely pays the interest on the debt. I + have had to give my daughter twenty thousand francs this year to help her + to make both ends meet. And then my son-in-law, who was making thirty + thousand francs a year at the Assizes, I am told, is going to throw that + up for the Chamber——” + </p> + <p> + “This, again, Monsieur Crevel, is beside the mark; we are wandering from + the point. Still, to dispose of it finally, it may be said that if my son + gets into office, if he has you made an officer of the Legion of Honor and + councillor of the municipality of Paris, you, as a retired perfumer, will + not have much to complain of——” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! there we are again, madame! Yes, I am a tradesman, a shopkeeper, a + retail dealer in almond-paste, eau-de-Portugal, and hair-oil, and was only + too much honored when my only daughter was married to the son of Monsieur + le Baron Hulot d’Ervy—my daughter will be a Baroness! This is + Regency, Louis XV., (Eil-de-boeuf—quite tip-top!—very good.) I + love Celestine as a man loves his only child—so well indeed, that, + to preserve her from having either brother or sister, I resigned myself to + all the privations of a widower—in Paris, and in the prime of life, + madame. But you must understand that, in spite of this extravagant + affection for my daughter, I do not intend to reduce my fortune for the + sake of your son, whose expenses are not wholly accounted for—in my + eyes, as an old man of business.” + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur, you may at this day see in the Ministry of Commerce Monsieur + Popinot, formerly a druggist in the Rue des Lombards——” + </p> + <p> + “And a friend of mine, madame,” said the ex-perfumer. “For I, Celestin + Crevel, foreman once to old Cesar Birotteau, brought up the said Cesar + Birotteau’s stock; and he was Popinot’s father-in-law. Why, that very + Popinot was no more than a shopman in the establishment, and he is the + first to remind me of it; for he is not proud, to do him justice, to men + in a good position with an income of sixty thousand francs in the funds.” + </p> + <p> + “Well then, monsieur, the notions you term ‘Regency’ are quite out of date + at a time when a man is taken at his personal worth; and that is what you + did when you married your daughter to my son.” + </p> + <p> + “But you do not know how the marriage was brought about!” cried Crevel. + “Oh, that cursed bachelor life! But for my misconduct, my Celestine might + at this day be Vicomtesse Popinot!” + </p> + <p> + “Once more have done with recriminations over accomplished facts,” said + the Baroness anxiously. “Let us rather discuss the complaints I have found + on your strange behavior. My daughter Hortense had a chance of marrying; + the match depended entirely on you; I believed you felt some sentiments of + generosity; I thought you would do justice to a woman who has never had a + thought in her heart for any man but her husband, that you would have + understood how necessary it is for her not to receive a man who may + compromise her, and that for the honor of the family with which you are + allied you would have been eager to promote Hortense’s settlement with + Monsieur le Conseiller Lebas.—And it is you, monsieur, you have + hindered the marriage.” + </p> + <p> + “Madame,” said the ex-perfumer, “I acted the part of an honest man. I was + asked whether the two hundred thousand francs to be settled on + Mademoiselle Hortense would be forthcoming. I replied exactly in these + words: ‘I would not answer for it. My son-in-law, to whom the Hulots had + promised the same sum, was in debt; and I believe that if Monsieur Hulot + d’Ervy were to die to-morrow, his widow would have nothing to live on.’—There, + fair lady.” + </p> + <p> + “And would you have said as much, monsieur,” asked Madame Hulot, looking + Crevel steadily in the face, “if I had been false to my duty?” + </p> + <p> + “I should not be in a position to say it, dearest Adeline,” cried this + singular adorer, interrupting the Baroness, “for you would have found the + amount in my pocket-book.” + </p> + <p> + And adding action to word, the fat guardsman knelt down on one knee and + kissed Madame Hulot’s hand, seeing that his speech had filled her with + speechless horror, which he took for hesitancy. + </p> + <p> + “What, buy my daughter’s fortune at the cost of——? Rise, + monsieur—or I ring the bell.” + </p> + <p> + Crevel rose with great difficulty. This fact made him so furious that he + again struck his favorite attitude. Most men have some habitual position + by which they fancy that they show to the best advantage the good points + bestowed on them by nature. This attitude in Crevel consisted in crossing + his arms like Napoleon, his head showing three-quarters face, and his eyes + fixed on the horizon, as the painter has shown the Emperor in his + portrait. + </p> + <p> + “To be faithful,” he began, with well-acted indignation, “so faithful to a + liber——” + </p> + <p> + “To a husband who is worthy of such fidelity,” Madame Hulot put in, to + hinder Crevel from saying a word she did not choose to hear. + </p> + <p> + “Come, madame; you wrote to bid me here, you ask the reasons for my + conduct, you drive me to extremities with your imperial airs, your scorn, + and your contempt! Any one might think I was a Negro. But I repeat it, and + you may believe me, I have a right to—to make love to you, for—— + But no; I love you well enough to hold my tongue.” + </p> + <p> + “You may speak, monsieur. In a few days I shall be eight-and-forty; I am + no prude; I can hear whatever you can say.” + </p> + <p> + “Then will you give me your word of honor as an honest woman—for you + are, alas for me! an honest woman—never to mention my name or to say + that it was I who betrayed the secret?” + </p> + <p> + “If that is the condition on which you speak, I will swear never to tell + any one from whom I heard the horrors you propose to tell me, not even my + husband.” + </p> + <p> + “I should think not indeed, for only you and he are concerned.” + </p> + <p> + Madame Hulot turned pale. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, if you still really love Hulot, it will distress you. Shall I say no + more?” + </p> + <p> + “Speak, monsieur; for by your account you wish to justify in my eyes the + extraordinary declarations you have chosen to make me, and your + persistency in tormenting a woman of my age, whose only wish is to see her + daughter married, and then—to die in peace——” + </p> + <p> + “You see; you are unhappy.” + </p> + <p> + “I, monsieur?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, beautiful, noble creature!” cried Crevel. “You have indeed been too + wretched!” + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur, be silent and go—or speak to me as you ought.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you know, madame, how Master Hulot and I first made acquaintance?—At + our mistresses’, madame.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, monsieur!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, madame, at our mistresses’,” Crevel repeated in a melodramatic tone, + and leaving his position to wave his right hand. + </p> + <p> + “Well, and what then?” said the Baroness coolly, to Crevel’s great + amazement. + </p> + <p> + Such mean seducers cannot understand a great soul. + </p> + <p> + “I, a widower five years since,” Crevel began, in the tone of a man who + has a story to tell, “and not wishing to marry again for the sake of the + daughter I adore, not choosing either to cultivate any such connection in + my own establishment, though I had at the time a very pretty + lady-accountant. I set up, ‘on her own account,’ as they say, a little + sempstress of fifteen—really a miracle of beauty, with whom I fell + desperately in love. And in fact, madame, I asked an aunt of my own, my + mother’s sister, whom I sent for from the country, to live with the sweet + creature and keep an eye on her, that she might behave as well as might be + in this rather—what shall I say—shady?—no, delicate + position. + </p> + <p> + “The child, whose talent for music was striking, had masters, she was + educated—I had to give her something to do. Besides, I wished to be + at once her father, her benefactor, and—well, out with it—her + lover; to kill two birds with one stone, a good action and a sweetheart. + For five years I was very happy. The girl had one of those voices that + make the fortune of a theatre; I can only describe her by saying that she + is a Duprez in petticoats. It cost me two thousand francs a year only to + cultivate her talent as a singer. She made me music-mad; I took a box at + the opera for her and for my daughter, and went there alternate evenings + with Celestine or Josepha.” + </p> + <p> + “What, the famous singer?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, madame,” said Crevel with pride, “the famous Josepha owes everything + to me.—At last, in 1834, when the child was twenty, believing that I + had attached her to me for ever, and being very weak where she was + concerned, I thought I would give her a little amusement, and I introduced + her to a pretty little actress, Jenny Cadine, whose life had been somewhat + like her own. This actress also owed everything to a protector who had + brought her up in leading-strings. That protector was Baron Hulot.” + </p> + <p> + “I know that,” said the Baroness, in a calm voice without the least + agitation. + </p> + <p> + “Bless me!” cried Crevel, more and more astounded. “Well! But do you know + that your monster of a husband took Jenny Cadine in hand at the age of + thirteen?” + </p> + <p> + “What then?” said the Baroness. + </p> + <p> + “As Jenny Cadine and Josepha were both aged twenty when they first met,” + the ex-tradesman went on, “the Baron had been playing the part of Louis + XV. to Mademoiselle de Romans ever since 1826, and you were twelve years + younger then——” + </p> + <p> + “I had my reasons, monsieur, for leaving Monsieur Hulot his liberty.” + </p> + <p> + “That falsehood, madame, will surely be enough to wipe out every sin you + have ever committed, and to open to you the gates of Paradise,” replied + Crevel, with a knowing air that brought the color to the Baroness’ cheeks. + “Sublime and adored woman, tell that to those who will believe it, but not + to old Crevel, who has, I may tell you, feasted too often as one of four + with your rascally husband not to know what your high merits are! Many a + time has he blamed himself when half tipsy as he has expatiated on your + perfections. Oh, I know you well!—A libertine might hesitate between + you and a girl of twenty. I do not hesitate——” + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I say no more. But you must know, saintly and noble woman, that a + husband under certain circumstances will tell things about his wife to his + mistress that will mightily amuse her.” + </p> + <p> + Tears of shame hanging to Madame Hulot’s long lashes checked the National + Guardsman. He stopped short, and forgot his attitude. + </p> + <p> + “To proceed,” said he. “We became intimate, the Baron and I, through the + two hussies. The Baron, like all bad lots, is very pleasant, a thoroughly + jolly good fellow. Yes, he took my fancy, the old rascal. He could be so + funny!—Well, enough of those reminiscences. We got to be like + brothers. The scoundrel—quite Regency in his notions—tried + indeed to deprave me altogether, preached Saint-Simonism as to women, and + all sorts of lordly ideas; but, you see, I was fond enough of my girl to + have married her, only I was afraid of having children. + </p> + <p> + “Then between two old daddies, such friends as—as we were, what more + natural than that we should think of our children marrying each other?—Three + months after his son had married my Celestine, Hulot—I don’t know + how I can utter the wretch’s name! he has cheated us both, madame—well, + the villain did me out of my little Josepha. The scoundrel knew that he + was supplanted in the heart of Jenny Cadine by a young lawyer and by an + artist—only two of them!—for the girl had more and more of a + howling success, and he stole my sweet little girl, a perfect darling—but + you must have seen her at the opera; he got her an engagement there. Your + husband is not so well behaved as I am. I am ruled as straight as a sheet + of music-paper. He had dropped a good deal of money on Jenny Cadine, who + must have cost him near on thirty thousand francs a year. Well, I can only + tell you that he is ruining himself outright for Josepha. + </p> + <p> + “Josepha, madame, is a Jewess. Her name is Mirah, the anagram of Hiram, an + Israelite mark that stamps her, for she was a foundling picked up in + Germany, and the inquiries I have made prove that she is the illegitimate + child of a rich Jew banker. The life of the theatre, and, above all, the + teaching of Jenny Cadine, Madame Schontz, Malaga, and Carabine, as to the + way to treat an old man, have developed, in the child whom I had kept in a + respectable and not too expensive way of life, all the native Hebrew + instinct for gold and jewels—for the golden calf. + </p> + <p> + “So this famous singer, hungering for plunder, now wants to be rich, very + rich. She tried her ‘prentice hand on Baron Hulot, and soon plucked him + bare—plucked him, ay, and singed him to the skin. The miserable man, + after trying to vie with one of the Kellers and with the Marquis + d’Esgrignon, both perfectly mad about Josepha, to say nothing of unknown + worshipers, is about to see her carried off by that very rich Duke, who is + such a patron of the arts. Oh, what is his name?—a dwarf.—Ah, + the Duc d’Herouville. This fine gentleman insists on having Josepha for + his very own, and all that set are talking about it; the Baron knows + nothing of it as yet; for it is the same in the Thirteenth Arrondissement + as in every other: the lover, like the husband, is last to get the news. + </p> + <p> + “Now, do you understand my claim? Your husband, dear lady, has robbed me + of my joy in life, the only happiness I have known since I became a + widower. Yes, if I had not been so unlucky as to come across that old rip, + Josepha would still be mine; for I, you know, should never have placed her + on the stage. She would have lived obscure, well conducted, and mine. Oh! + if you could but have seen her eight years ago, slight and wiry, with the + golden skin of an Andalusian, as they say, black hair as shiny as satin, + an eye that flashed lightning under long brown lashes, the style of a + duchess in every movement, the modesty of a dependent, decent grace, and + the pretty ways of a wild fawn. And by that Hulot’s doing all this charm + and purity has been degraded to a man-trap, a money-box for five-franc + pieces! The girl is the Queen of Trollops; and nowadays she humbugs every + one—she who knew nothing, not even that word.” + </p> + <p> + At this stage the retired perfumer wiped his eyes, which were full of + tears. The sincerity of his grief touched Madame Hulot, and roused her + from the meditation into which she had sunk. + </p> + <p> + “Tell me, madame, is a man of fifty-two likely to find such another jewel? + At my age love costs thirty thousand francs a year. It is through your + husband’s experience that I know the price, and I love Celestine too truly + to be her ruin. When I saw you, at the first evening party you gave in our + honor, I wondered how that scoundrel Hulot could keep a Jenny Cadine—you + had the manner of an Empress. You do not look thirty,” he went on. “To me, + madame, you look young, and you are beautiful. On my word of honor, that + evening I was struck to the heart. I said to myself, ‘If I had not + Josepha, since old Hulot neglects his wife, she would fit me like a + glove.’ Forgive me—it is a reminiscence of my old business. The + perfumer will crop up now and then, and that is what keeps me from + standing to be elected deputy. + </p> + <p> + “And then, when I was so abominably deceived by the Baron, for really + between old rips like us our friend’s mistress should be sacred, I swore I + would have his wife. It is but justice. The Baron could say nothing; we + are certain of impunity. You showed me the door like a mangy dog at the + first words I uttered as to the state of my feelings; you only made my + passion—my obstinacy, if you will—twice as strong, and you + shall be mine.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed; how?” + </p> + <p> + “I do not know; but it will come to pass. You see, madame, an idiot of a + perfumer—retired from business—who has but one idea in his + head, is stronger than a clever fellow who has a thousand. I am smitten + with you, and you are the means of my revenge; it is like being in love + twice over. I am speaking to you quite frankly, as a man who knows what he + means. I speak coldly to you, just as you do to me, when you say, ‘I never + will be yours,’ In fact, as they say, I play the game with the cards on + the table. Yes, you shall be mine, sooner or later; if you were fifty, you + should still be my mistress. And it will be; for I expect anything from + your husband!” + </p> + <p> + Madame Hulot looked at this vulgar intriguer with such a fixed stare of + terror, that he thought she had gone mad, and he stopped. + </p> + <p> + “You insisted on it, you heaped me with scorn, you defied me—and I + have spoken,” said he, feeling that he must justify the ferocity of his + last words. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my daughter, my daughter,” moaned the Baroness in a voice like a + dying woman’s. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! I have forgotten all else,” Crevel went on. “The day when I was + robbed of Josepha I was like a tigress robbed of her cubs; in short, as + you see me now.—Your daughter? Yes, I regard her as the means of + winning you. Yes, I put a spoke in her marriage—and you will not get + her married without my help! Handsome as Mademoiselle Hortense is, she + needs a fortune——” + </p> + <p> + “Alas! yes,” said the Baroness, wiping her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Well, just ask your husband for ten thousand francs,” said Crevel, + striking his attitude once more. He waited a minute, like an actor who has + made a point. + </p> + <p> + “If he had the money, he would give it to the woman who will take + Josepha’s place,” he went on, emphasizing his tones. “Does a man ever pull + up on the road he has taken? In the first place, he is too sweet on women. + There is a happy medium in all things, as our King has told us. And then + his vanity is implicated! He is a handsome man!—He would bring you + all to ruin for his pleasure; in fact, you are already on the highroad to + the workhouse. Why, look, never since I set foot in your house have you + been able to do up your drawing-room furniture. ‘Hard up’ is the word + shouted by every slit in the stuff. Where will you find a son-in-law who + would not turn his back in horror of the ill-concealed evidence of the + most cruel misery there is—that of people in decent society? I have + kept shop, and I know. There is no eye so quick as that of the Paris + tradesman to detect real wealth from its sham.—You have no money,” + he said, in a lower voice. “It is written everywhere, even on your + man-servant’s coat. + </p> + <p> + “Would you like me to disclose any more hideous mysteries that are kept + from you?” + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur,” cried Madame Hulot, whose handkerchief was wet through with + her tears, “enough, enough!” + </p> + <p> + “My son-in-law, I tell you, gives his father money, and this is what I + particularly wanted to come to when I began by speaking of your son’s + expenses. But I keep an eye on my daughter’s interests, be easy.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, if I could but see my daughter married, and die!” cried the poor + woman, quite losing her head. + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, this is the way,” said the ex-perfumer. + </p> + <p> + Madame Hulot looked at Crevel with a hopeful expression, which so + completely changed her countenance, that this alone ought to have touched + the man’s feelings and have led him to abandon his monstrous schemes. + </p> + <p> + “You will still be handsome ten years hence,” Crevel went on, with his + arms folded; “be kind to me, and Mademoiselle Hulot will marry. Hulot has + given me the right, as I have explained to you, to put the matter crudely, + and he will not be angry. In three years I have saved the interest on my + capital, for my dissipations have been restricted. I have three hundred + thousand francs in the bank over and above my invested fortune—they + are yours——” + </p> + <p> + “Go,” said Madame Hulot. “Go, monsieur, and never let me see you again. + But for the necessity in which you placed me to learn the secret of your + cowardly conduct with regard to the match I had planned for Hortense—yes, + cowardly!” she repeated, in answer to a gesture from Crevel. “How can you + load a poor girl, a pretty, innocent creature, with such a weight of + enmity? But for the necessity that goaded me as a mother, you would never + have spoken to me again, never again have come within my doors. Thirty-two + years of an honorable and loyal life shall not be swept away by a blow + from Monsieur Crevel——” + </p> + <p> + “The retired perfumer, successor to Cesar Birotteau at the <i>Queen of the + Roses</i>, Rue Saint-Honore,” added Crevel, in mocking tones. + “Deputy-mayor, captain in the National Guard, Chevalier of the Legion of + Honor—exactly what my predecessor was!” + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur,” said the Baroness, “if, after twenty years of constancy, + Monsieur Hulot is tired of his wife, that is nobody’s concern but mine. As + you see, he has kept his infidelity a mystery, for I did not know that he + had succeeded you in the affections of Mademoiselle Josepha——” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it has cost him a pretty penny, madame. His singing-bird has cost him + more than a hundred thousand francs in these two years. Ah, ha! you have + not seen the end of it!” + </p> + <p> + “Have done with all this, Monsieur Crevel. I will not, for your sake, + forego the happiness a mother knows who can embrace her children without a + single pang of remorse in her heart, who sees herself respected and loved + by her family; and I will give up my soul to God unspotted——” + </p> + <p> + “Amen!” exclaimed Crevel, with the diabolical rage that embitters the face + of these pretenders when they fail for the second time in such an attempt. + “You do not yet know the latter end of poverty—shame, disgrace.—I + have tried to warn you; I would have saved you, you and your daughter. + Well, you must study the modern parable of the <i>Prodigal Father</i> from + A to Z. Your tears and your pride move me deeply,” said Crevel, seating + himself, “for it is frightful to see the woman one loves weeping. All I + can promise you, dear Adeline, is to do nothing against your interests or + your husband’s. Only never send to me for information. That is all.” + </p> + <p> + “What is to be done?” cried Madame Hulot. + </p> + <p> + Up to now the Baroness had bravely faced the threefold torment which this + explanation inflicted on her; for she was wounded as a woman, as a mother, + and as a wife. In fact, so long as her son’s father-in-law was insolent + and offensive, she had found the strength in her resistance to the + aggressive tradesman; but the sort of good-nature he showed, in spite of + his exasperation as a mortified adorer and as a humiliated National + Guardsman, broke down her nerve, strung to the point of snapping. She + wrung her hands, melted into tears, and was in a state of such helpless + dejection, that she allowed Crevel to kneel at her feet, kissing her + hands. + </p> + <p> + “Good God! what will become of us!” she went on, wiping away her tears. + “Can a mother sit still and see her child pine away before her eyes? What + is to be the fate of that splendid creature, as strong in her pure life + under her mother’s care as she is by every gift of nature? There are days + when she wanders round the garden, out of spirits without knowing why; I + find her with tears in her eyes——” + </p> + <p> + “She is one-and-twenty,” said Crevel. + </p> + <p> + “Must I place her in a convent?” asked the Baroness. “But in such cases + religion is impotent to subdue nature, and the most piously trained girls + lose their head!—Get up, pray, monsieur; do you not understand that + everything is final between us? that I look upon you with horror? that you + have crushed a mother’s last hopes——” + </p> + <p> + “But if I were to restore them,” asked he. + </p> + <p> + Madame Hulot looked at Crevel with a frenzied expression that really + touched him. But he drove pity back to the depths of his heart; she had + said, “I look upon you with horror.” + </p> + <p> + Virtue is always a little too rigid; it overlooks the shades and instincts + by help of which we are able to tack when in a false position. + </p> + <p> + “So handsome a girl as Mademoiselle Hortense does not find a husband + nowadays if she is penniless,” Crevel remarked, resuming his starchiest + manner. “Your daughter is one of those beauties who rather alarm intending + husbands; like a thoroughbred horse, which is too expensive to keep up to + find a ready purchaser. If you go out walking with such a woman on your + arm, every one will turn to look at you, and follow and covet his + neighbor’s wife. Such success is a source of much uneasiness to men who do + not want to be killing lovers; for, after all, no man kills more than one. + In the position in which you find yourself there are just three ways of + getting your daughter married: Either by my help—and you will have + none of it! That is one.—Or by finding some old man of sixty, very + rich, childless, and anxious to have children; that is difficult, still + such men are to be met with. Many old men take up with a Josepha, a Jenny + Cadine, why should not one be found who is ready to make a fool of himself + under legal formalities? If it were not for Celestine and our two + grandchildren, I would marry Hortense myself. That is two.—The last + way is the easiest——” + </p> + <p> + Madame Hulot raised her head, and looked uneasily at the ex-perfumer. + </p> + <p> + “Paris is a town whither every man of energy—and they sprout like + saplings on French soil—comes to meet his kind; talent swarms here + without hearth or home, and energy equal to anything, even to making a + fortune. Well, these youngsters—your humble servant was such a one + in his time, and how many he has known! What had du Tillet or Popinot + twenty years since? They were both pottering round in Daddy Birotteau’s + shop, with not a penny of capital but their determination to get on, + which, in my opinion, is the best capital a man can have. Money may be + eaten through, but you don’t eat through your determination. Why, what had + I? The will to get on, and plenty of pluck. At this day du Tillet is a + match for the greatest folks; little Popinot, the richest druggist of the + Rue des Lombards, became a deputy, now he is in office.—Well, one of + these free lances, as we say on the stock market, of the pen, or of the + brush, is the only man in Paris who would marry a penniless beauty, for + they have courage enough for anything. Monsieur Popinot married + Mademoiselle Birotteau without asking for a farthing. Those men are + madmen, to be sure! They trust in love as they trust in good luck and + brains!—Find a man of energy who will fall in love with your + daughter, and he will marry without a thought of money. You must confess + that by way of an enemy I am not ungenerous, for this advice is against my + own interests.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Monsieur Crevel, if you would indeed be my friend and give up your + ridiculous notions——” + </p> + <p> + “Ridiculous? Madame, do not run yourself down. Look at yourself—I + love you, and you will come to be mine. The day will come when I shall say + to Hulot, ‘You took Josepha, I have taken your wife!’ + </p> + <p> + “It is the old law of tit-for-tat! And I will persevere till I have + attained my end, unless you should become extremely ugly.—I shall + succeed; and I will tell you why,” he went on, resuming his attitude, and + looking at Madame Hulot. “You will not meet with such an old man, or such + a young lover,” he said after a pause, “because you love your daughter too + well to hand her over to the manoeuvres of an old libertine, and because + you—the Baronne Hulot, sister of the old Lieutenant-General who + commanded the veteran Grenadiers of the Old Guard—will not + condescend to take a man of spirit wherever you may find him; for he might + be a mere craftsman, as many a millionaire of to-day was ten years ago, a + working artisan, or the foreman of a factory. + </p> + <p> + “And then, when you see the girl, urged by her twenty years, capable of + dishonoring you all, you will say to yourself, ‘It will be better that I + should fall! If Monsieur Crevel will but keep my secret, I will earn my + daughter’s portion—two hundred thousand francs for ten years’ + attachment to that old gloveseller—old Crevel!’—I disgust you + no doubt, and what I am saying is horribly immoral, you think? But if you + happened to have been bitten by an overwhelming passion, you would find a + thousand arguments in favor of yielding—as women do when they are in + love.—Yes, and Hortense’s interests will suggest to your feelings + such terms of surrendering your conscience——” + </p> + <p> + “Hortense has still an uncle.” + </p> + <p> + “What! Old Fischer? He is winding up his concerns, and that again is the + Baron’s fault; his rake is dragged over every till within his reach.” + </p> + <p> + “Comte Hulot——” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, madame, your husband has already made thin air of the old General’s + savings. He spent them in furnishing his singer’s rooms.—Now, come; + am I to go without a hope?” + </p> + <p> + “Good-bye, monsieur. A man easily gets over a passion for a woman of my + age, and you will fall back on Christian principles. God takes care of the + wretched——” + </p> + <p> + The Baroness rose to oblige the captain to retreat, and drove him back + into the drawing-room. + </p> + <p> + “Ought the beautiful Madame Hulot to be living amid such squalor?” said + he, and he pointed to an old lamp, a chandelier bereft of its gilding, the + threadbare carpet, the very rags of wealth which made the large room, with + its red, white, and gold, look like a corpse of Imperial festivities. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur, virtue shines on it all. I have no wish to owe a handsome abode + to having made of the beauty you are pleased to ascribe to me a <i>man-trap</i> + and <i>a money-box for five-franc pieces</i>!” + </p> + <p> + The captain bit his lips as he recognized the words he had used to vilify + Josepha’s avarice. + </p> + <p> + “And for whom are you so magnanimous?” said he. By this time the baroness + had got her rejected admirer as far as the door.—“For a libertine!” + said he, with a lofty grimace of virtue and superior wealth. + </p> + <p> + “If you are right, my constancy has some merit, monsieur. That is all.” + </p> + <p> + After bowing to the officer as a woman bows to dismiss an importune + visitor, she turned away too quickly to see him once more fold his arms. + She unlocked the doors she had closed, and did not see the threatening + gesture which was Crevel’s parting greeting. She walked with a proud, + defiant step, like a martyr to the Coliseum, but her strength was + exhausted; she sank on the sofa in her blue room, as if she were ready to + faint, and sat there with her eyes fixed on the tumble-down summer-house, + where her daughter was gossiping with Cousin Betty. + </p> + <p> + From the first days of her married life to the present time the Baroness + had loved her husband, as Josephine in the end had loved Napoleon, with an + admiring, maternal, and cowardly devotion. Though ignorant of the details + given her by Crevel, she knew that for twenty years past Baron Hulot been + anything rather than a faithful husband; but she had sealed her eyes with + lead, she had wept in silence, and no word of reproach had ever escaped + her. In return for this angelic sweetness, she had won her husband’s + veneration and something approaching to worship from all who were about + her. + </p> + <p> + A wife’s affection for her husband and the respect she pays him are + infectious in a family. Hortense believed her father to be a perfect model + of conjugal affection; as to their son, brought up to admire the Baron, + whom everybody regarded as one of the giants who so effectually backed + Napoleon, he knew that he owed his advancement to his father’s name, + position, and credit; and besides, the impressions of childhood exert an + enduring influence. He still was afraid of his father; and if he had + suspected the misdeeds revealed by Crevel, as he was too much overawed by + him to find fault, he would have found excuses in the view every man takes + of such matters. + </p> + <p> + It now will be necessary to give the reasons for the extraordinary + self-devotion of a good and beautiful woman; and this, in a few words, is + her past history. + </p> + <p> + Three brothers, simple laboring men, named Fischer, and living in a + village situated on the furthest frontier of Lorraine, were compelled by + the Republican conscription to set out with the so-called army of the + Rhine. + </p> + <p> + In 1799 the second brother, Andre, a widower, and Madame Hulot’s father, + left his daughter to the care of his elder brother, Pierre Fischer, + disabled from service by a wound received in 1797, and made a small + private venture in the military transport service, an opening he owed to + the favor of Hulot d’Ervy, who was high in the commissariat. By a very + obvious chance Hulot, coming to Strasbourg, saw the Fischer family. + Adeline’s father and his younger brother were at that time contractors for + forage in the province of Alsace. + </p> + <p> + Adeline, then sixteen years of age, might be compared with the famous + Madame du Barry, like her, a daughter of Lorraine. She was one of those + perfect and striking beauties—a woman like Madame Tallien, finished + with peculiar care by Nature, who bestows on them all her choicest gifts—distinction, + dignity, grace, refinement, elegance, flesh of a superior texture, and a + complexion mingled in the unknown laboratory where good luck presides. + These beautiful creatures all have something in common: Bianca Capella, + whose portrait is one of Bronzino’s masterpieces; Jean Goujon’s Venus, + painted from the famous Diane de Poitiers; Signora Olympia, whose picture + adorns the Doria gallery; Ninon, Madame du Barry, Madame Tallien, + Mademoiselle Georges, Madame Recamier.—all these women who preserved + their beauty in spite of years, of passion, and of their life of excess + and pleasure, have in figure, frame, and in the character of their beauty + certain striking resemblances, enough to make one believe that there is in + the ocean of generations an Aphrodisian current whence every such Venus is + born, all daughters of the same salt wave. + </p> + <p> + Adeline Fischer, one of the loveliest of this race of goddesses, had the + splendid type, the flowing lines, the exquisite texture of a woman born a + queen. The fair hair that our mother Eve received from the hand of God, + the form of an Empress, an air of grandeur, and an august line of profile, + with her rural modesty, made every man pause in delight as she passed, + like amateurs in front of a Raphael; in short, having once seen her, the + Commissariat officer made Mademoiselle Adeline Fischer his wife as quickly + as the law would permit, to the great astonishment of the Fischers, who + had all been brought up in the fear of their betters. + </p> + <p> + The eldest, a soldier of 1792, severely wounded in the attack on the lines + at Wissembourg, adored the Emperor Napoleon and everything that had to do + with the <i>Grande Armee</i>. Andre and Johann spoke with respect of + Commissary Hulot, the Emperor’s protege, to whom indeed they owed their + prosperity; for Hulot d’Ervy, finding them intelligent and honest, had + taken them from the army provision wagons to place them in charge of a + government contract needing despatch. The brothers Fischer had done + further service during the campaign of 1804. At the peace Hulot had + secured for them the contract for forage from Alsace, not knowing that he + would presently be sent to Strasbourg to prepare for the campaign of 1806. + </p> + <p> + This marriage was like an Assumption to the young peasant girl. The + beautiful Adeline was translated at once from the mire of her village to + the paradise of the Imperial Court; for the contractor, one of the most + conscientious and hard-working of the Commissariat staff, was made a + Baron, obtained a place near the Emperor, and was attached to the Imperial + Guard. The handsome rustic bravely set to work to educate herself for love + of her husband, for she was simply crazy about him; and, indeed, the + Commissariat office was as a man a perfect match for Adeline as a woman. + He was one of the picked corps of fine men. Tall, well-built, fair, with + beautiful blue eyes full of irresistible fire and life, his elegant + appearance made him remarkable by the side of d’Orsay, Forbin, Ouvrard; in + short, in the battalion of fine men that surrounded the Emperor. A + conquering “buck,” and holding the ideas of the Directoire with regard to + women, his career of gallantry was interrupted for some long time by his + conjugal affection. + </p> + <p> + To Adeline the Baron was from the first a sort of god who could do no + wrong. To him she owed everything: fortune—she had a carriage, a + fine house, every luxury of the day; happiness—he was devoted to her + in the face of the world; a title, for she was a Baroness; fame, for she + was spoken of as the beautiful Madame Hulot—and in Paris! Finally, + she had the honor of refusing the Emperor’s advances, for Napoleon made + her a present of a diamond necklace, and always remembered her, asking now + and again, “And is the beautiful Madame Hulot still a model of virtue?” in + the tone of a man who might have taken his revenge on one who should have + triumphed where he had failed. + </p> + <p> + So it needs no great intuition to discern what were the motives in a + simple, guileless, and noble soul for the fanaticism of Madame Hulot’s + love. Having fully persuaded herself that her husband could do her no + wrong, she made herself in the depths of her heart the humble, abject, and + blindfold slave of the man who had made her. It must be noted, too, that + she was gifted with great good sense—the good sense of the people, + which made her education sound. In society she spoke little, and never + spoke evil of any one; she did not try to shine; she thought out many + things, listened well, and formed herself on the model of the + best-conducted women of good birth. + </p> + <p> + In 1815 Hulot followed the lead of the Prince de Wissembourg, his intimate + friend, and became one of the officers who organized the improvised troops + whose rout brought the Napoleonic cycle to a close at Waterloo. In 1816 + the Baron was one of the men best hated by the Feltre administration, and + was not reinstated in the Commissariat till 1823, when he was needed for + the Spanish war. In 1830 he took office as the fourth wheel of the coach, + at the time of the levies, a sort of conscription made by Louis Philippe + on the old Napoleonic soldiery. From the time when the younger branch + ascended the throne, having taken an active part in bringing that about, + he was regarded as an indispensable authority at the War Office. He had + already won his Marshal’s baton, and the King could do no more for him + unless by making him minister or a peer of France. + </p> + <p> + From 1818 till 1823, having no official occupation, Baron Hulot had gone + on active service to womankind. Madame Hulot dated her Hector’s first + infidelities from the grand <i>finale</i> of the Empire. Thus, for twelve + years the Baroness had filled the part in her household of <i>prima donna + assoluta</i>, without a rival. She still could boast of the old-fashioned, + inveterate affection which husbands feel for wives who are resigned to be + gentle and virtuous helpmates; she knew that if she had a rival, that + rival would not subsist for two hours under a word of reproof from + herself; but she shut her eyes, she stopped her ears, she would know + nothing of her husband’s proceedings outside his home. In short, she + treated her Hector as a mother treats a spoilt child. + </p> + <p> + Three years before the conversation reported above, Hortense, at the + Theatre des Varietes, had recognized her father in a lower tier stage-box + with Jenny Cadine, and had exclaimed: + </p> + <p> + “There is papa!” + </p> + <p> + “You are mistaken, my darling; he is at the Marshal’s,” the Baroness + replied. + </p> + <p> + She too had seen Jenny Cadine; but instead of feeling a pang when she saw + how pretty she was, she said to herself, “That rascal Hector must think + himself very lucky.” + </p> + <p> + She suffered nevertheless; she gave herself up in secret to rages of + torment; but as soon as she saw Hector, she always remembered her twelve + years of perfect happiness, and could not find it in her to utter a word + of complaint. She would have been glad if the Baron would have taken her + into his confidence; but she never dared to let him see that she knew of + his kicking over the traces, out of respect for her husband. Such an + excess of delicacy is never met with but in those grand creatures, + daughters of the soil, whose instinct it is to take blows without ever + returning them; the blood of the early martyrs still lives in their veins. + Well-born women, their husbands’ equals, feel the impulse to annoy them, + to mark the points of their tolerance, like points at billiards, by some + stinging word, partly in the spirit of diabolical malice, and to secure + the upper hand or the right of turning the tables. + </p> + <p> + The Baroness had an ardent admirer in her brother-in-law, + Lieutenant-General Hulot, the venerable Colonel of the Grenadiers of the + Imperial Infantry Guard, who was to have a Marshal’s baton in his old age. + This veteran, after having served from 1830 to 1834 as Commandant of the + military division, including the departments of Brittany, the scene of his + exploits in 1799 and 1800, had come to settle in Paris near his brother, + for whom he had a fatherly affection. + </p> + <p> + This old soldier’s heart was in sympathy with his sister-in-law; he + admired her as the noblest and saintliest of her sex. He had never + married, because he hoped to find a second Adeline, though he had vainly + sought for her through twenty campaigns in as many lands. To maintain her + place in the esteem of this blameless and spotless old republican—of + whom Napoleon had said, “That brave old Hulot is the most obstinate + republican, but he will never be false to me”—Adeline would have + endured griefs even greater than those that had just come upon her. But + the old soldier, seventy-two years of age, battered by thirty campaigns, + and wounded for the twenty-seventh time at Waterloo, was Adeline’s + admirer, and not a “protector.” The poor old Count, among other + infirmities, could only hear through a speaking trumpet. + </p> + <p> + So long as Baron Hulot d’Ervy was a fine man, his flirtations did not + damage his fortune; but when a man is fifty, the Graces claim payment. At + that age love becomes vice; insensate vanities come into play. Thus, at + about that time, Adeline saw that her husband was incredibly particular + about his dress; he dyed his hair and whiskers, and wore a belt and stays. + He was determined to remain handsome at any cost. This care of his person, + a weakness he had once mercilessly mocked at, was carried out in the + minutest details. + </p> + <p> + At last Adeline perceived that the Pactolus poured out before the Baron’s + mistresses had its source in her pocket. In eight years he had dissipated + a considerable amount of money; and so effectually, that, on his son’s + marriage two years previously, the Baron had been compelled to explain to + his wife that his pay constituted their whole income. + </p> + <p> + “What shall we come to?” asked Adeline. + </p> + <p> + “Be quite easy,” said the official, “I will leave the whole of my salary + in your hands, and I will make a fortune for Hortense, and some savings + for the future, in business.” + </p> + <p> + The wife’s deep belief in her husband’s power and superior talents, in his + capabilities and character, had, in fact, for the moment allayed her + anxiety. + </p> + <p> + What the Baroness’ reflections and tears were after Crevel’s departure may + now be clearly imagined. The poor woman had for two years past known that + she was at the bottom of a pit, but she had fancied herself alone in it. + How her son’s marriage had been finally arranged she had not known; she + had known nothing of Hector’s connection with the grasping Jewess; and, + above all, she hoped that no one in the world knew anything of her + troubles. Now, if Crevel went about so ready to talk of the Baron’s + excesses, Hector’s reputation would suffer. She could see, under the angry + ex-perfumer’s coarse harangue, the odious gossip behind the scenes which + led to her son’s marriage. Two reprobate hussies had been the priestesses + of this union planned at some orgy amid the degrading familiarities of two + tipsy old sinners. + </p> + <p> + “And has he forgotten Hortense!” she wondered. + </p> + <p> + “But he sees her every day; will he try to find her a husband among his + good-for-nothing sluts?” + </p> + <p> + At this moment it was the mother that spoke rather than the wife, for she + saw Hortense laughing with her Cousin Betty—the reckless laughter of + heedless youth; and she knew that such hysterical laughter was quite as + distressing a symptom as the tearful reverie of solitary walks in the + garden. + </p> + <p> + Hortense was like her mother, with golden hair that waved naturally, and + was amazingly long and thick. Her skin had the lustre of mother-of-pearl. + She was visibly the offspring of a true marriage, of a pure and noble love + in its prime. There was a passionate vitality in her countenance, a + brilliancy of feature, a full fount of youth, a fresh vigor and abundance + of health, which radiated from her with electric flashes. Hortense invited + the eye. + </p> + <p> + When her eye, of deep ultramarine blue, liquid with the moisture of + innocent youth, rested on a passer-by, he was involuntarily thrilled. Nor + did a single freckle mar her skin, such as those with which many a white + and golden maid pays toll for her milky whiteness. Tall, round without + being fat, with a slender dignity as noble as her mother’s, she really + deserved the name of goddess, of which old authors were so lavish. In + fact, those who saw Hortense in the street could hardly restrain the + exclamation, “What a beautiful girl!” + </p> + <p> + She was so genuinely innocent, that she could say to her mother: + </p> + <p> + “What do they mean, mamma, by calling me a beautiful girl when I am with + you? Are not you much handsomer than I am?” + </p> + <p> + And, in point of fact, at seven-and-forty the Baroness might have been + preferred to her daughter by amateurs of sunset beauty; for she had not + yet lost any of her charms, by one of those phenomena which are especially + rare in Paris, where Ninon was regarded as scandalous, simply because she + thus seemed to enjoy such an unfair advantage over the plainer women of + the seventeenth century. + </p> + <p> + Thinking of her daughter brought her back to the father; she saw him + sinking by degrees, day after day, down to the social mire, and even + dismissed some day from his appointment. The idea of her idol’s fall, with + a vague vision of the disasters prophesied by Crevel, was such a terror to + the poor woman, that she became rapt in the contemplation like an + ecstatic. + </p> + <p> + Cousin Betty, from time to time, as she chatted with Hortense, looked + round to see when they might return to the drawing-room; but her young + cousin was pelting her with questions, and at the moment when the Baroness + opened the glass door she did not happen to be looking. + </p> + <p> + Lisbeth Fischer, though the daughter of the eldest of the three brothers, + was five years younger than Madame Hulot; she was far from being as + handsome as her cousin, and had been desperately jealous of Adeline. + Jealousy was the fundamental passion of this character, marked by + eccentricities—a word invented by the English to describe the + craziness not of the asylum, but of respectable households. A native of + the Vosges, a peasant in the fullest sense of the word, lean, brown, with + shining black hair and thick eyebrows joining in a tuft, with long, strong + arms, thick feet, and some moles on her narrow simian face—such is a + brief description of the elderly virgin. + </p> + <p> + The family, living all under one roof, had sacrificed the common-looking + girl to the beauty, the bitter fruit to the splendid flower. Lisbeth + worked in the fields, while her cousin was indulged; and one day, when + they were alone together, she had tried to destroy Adeline’s nose, a truly + Greek nose, which the old mothers admired. Though she was beaten for this + misdeed, she persisted nevertheless in tearing the favorite’s gowns and + crumpling her collars. + </p> + <p> + At the time of Adeline’s wonderful marriage, Lisbeth had bowed to fate, as + Napoleon’s brothers and sisters bowed before the splendor of the throne + and the force of authority. + </p> + <p> + Adeline, who was extremely sweet and kind, remembered Lisbeth when she + found herself in Paris, and invited her there in 1809, intending to rescue + her from poverty by finding her a husband. But seeing that it was + impossible to marry the girl out of hand, with her black eyes and sooty + brows, unable, too, to read or write, the Baron began by apprenticing her + to a business; he placed her as a learner with the embroiderers to the + Imperial Court, the well-known Pons Brothers. + </p> + <p> + Lisbeth, called Betty for short, having learned to embroider in gold and + silver, and possessing all the energy of a mountain race, had + determination enough to learn to read, write, and keep accounts; for her + cousin the Baron had pointed out the necessity for these accomplishments + if she hoped to set up in business as an embroiderer. + </p> + <p> + She was bent on making a fortune; in two years she was another creature. + In 1811 the peasant woman had become a very presentable, skilled, and + intelligent forewoman. + </p> + <p> + Her department, that of gold and silver lace-work, as it is called, + included epaulettes, sword-knots, aiguillettes; in short, the immense mass + of glittering ornaments that sparkled on the rich uniforms of the French + army and civil officials. The Emperor, a true Italian in his love of + dress, had overlaid the coats of all his servants with silver and gold, + and the Empire included a hundred and thirty-three Departments. These + ornaments, usually supplied to tailors who were solvent and wealthy + paymasters, were a very secure branch of trade. + </p> + <p> + Just when Cousin Betty, the best hand in the house of Pons Brothers, where + she was forewoman of the embroidery department, might have set up in + business on her own account, the Empire collapsed. The olive-branch of + peace held out by the Bourbons did not reassure Lisbeth; she feared a + diminution of this branch of trade, since henceforth there were to be but + eighty-six Departments to plunder, instead of a hundred and thirty-three, + to say nothing of the immense reduction of the army. Utterly scared by the + ups and downs of industry, she refused the Baron’s offers of help, and he + thought she must be mad. She confirmed this opinion by quarreling with + Monsieur Rivet, who bought the business of Pons Brothers, and with whom + the Baron wished to place her in partnership; she would be no more than a + workwoman. Thus the Fischer family had relapsed into the precarious + mediocrity from which Baron Hulot had raised it. + </p> + <p> + The three brothers Fischer, who had been ruined by the abdication at + Fontainebleau, in despair joined the irregular troops in 1815. The eldest, + Lisbeth’s father, was killed. Adeline’s father, sentenced to death by + court-martial, fled to Germany, and died at Treves in 1820. Johann, the + youngest, came to Paris, a petitioner to the queen of the family, who was + said to dine off gold and silver plate, and never to be seen at a party + but with diamonds in her hair as big as hazel-nuts, given to her by the + Emperor. + </p> + <p> + Johann Fischer, then aged forty-three, obtained from Baron Hulot a capital + of ten thousand francs with which to start a small business as + forage-dealer at Versailles, under the patronage of the War Office, + through the influence of the friends still in office, of the late + Commissary-General. + </p> + <p> + These family catastrophes, Baron Hulot’s dismissal, and the knowledge that + he was a mere cipher in that immense stir of men and interests and things + which makes Paris at once a paradise and a hell, quite quelled Lisbeth + Fischer. She gave up all idea of rivalry and comparison with her cousin + after feeling her great superiority; but envy still lurked in her heart, + like a plague-germ that may hatch and devastate a city if the fatal bale + of wool is opened in which it is concealed. + </p> + <p> + Now and again, indeed, she said to herself: + </p> + <p> + “Adeline and I are the same flesh and blood, our fathers were brothers—and + she is in a mansion, while I am in a garret.” + </p> + <p> + But every New Year Lisbeth had presents from the Baron and Baroness; the + Baron, who was always good to her, paid for her firewood in the winter; + old General Hulot had her to dinner once a week; and there was always a + cover laid for her at her cousin’s table. They laughed at her no doubt, + but they never were ashamed to own her. In short, they had made her + independent in Paris, where she lived as she pleased. + </p> + <p> + The old maid had, in fact, a terror of any kind of tie. Her cousin had + offered her a room in her own house—Lisbeth suspected the halter of + domestic servitude; several times the Baron had found a solution of the + difficult problem of her marriage; but though tempted in the first + instance, she would presently decline, fearing lest she should be scorned + for her want of education, her general ignorance, and her poverty; + finally, when the Baroness suggested that she should live with their uncle + Johann, and keep house for him, instead of the upper servant, who must + cost him dear, Lisbeth replied that that was the very last way she should + think of marrying. + </p> + <p> + Lisbeth Fischer had the sort of strangeness in her ideas which is often + noticeable in characters that have developed late, in savages, who think + much and speak little. Her peasant’s wit had acquired a good deal of + Parisian asperity from hearing the talk of workshops and mixing with + workmen and workwomen. She, whose character had a marked resemblance to + that of the Corsicans, worked upon without fruition by the instincts of a + strong nature, would have liked to be the protectress of a weak man; but, + as a result of living in the capital, the capital had altered her + superficially. Parisian polish became rust on this coarsely tempered soul. + Gifted with a cunning which had become unfathomable, as it always does in + those whose celibacy is genuine, with the originality and sharpness with + which she clothed her ideas, in any other position she would have been + formidable. Full of spite, she was capable of bringing discord into the + most united family. + </p> + <p> + In early days, when she indulged in certain secret hopes which she + confided to none, she took to wearing stays, and dressing in the fashion, + and so shone in splendor for a short time, that the Baron thought her + marriageable. Lisbeth at that stage was the piquante brunette of + old-fashioned novels. Her piercing glance, her olive skin, her reed-like + figure, might invite a half-pay major; but she was satisfied, she would + say laughing, with her own admiration. + </p> + <p> + And, indeed, she found her life pleasant enough when she had freed it from + practical anxieties, for she dined out every evening after working hard + from sunrise. Thus she had only her rent and her midday meal to provide + for; she had most of her clothes given her, and a variety of very + acceptable stores, such as coffee, sugar, wine, and so forth. + </p> + <p> + In 1837, after living for twenty-seven years, half maintained by the + Hulots and her Uncle Fischer, Cousin Betty, resigned to being nobody, + allowed herself to be treated so. She herself refused to appear at any + grand dinners, preferring the family party, where she held her own and was + spared all slights to her pride. + </p> + <p> + Wherever she went—at General Hulot’s, at Crevel’s, at the house of + the young Hulots, or at Rivet’s (Pons’ successor, with whom she made up + her quarrel, and who made much of her), and at the Baroness’ table—she + was treated as one of the family; in fact, she managed to make friends of + the servants by making them an occasional small present, and always + gossiping with them for a few minutes before going into the drawing-room. + This familiarity, by which she uncompromisingly put herself on their + level, conciliated their servile good-nature, which is indispensable to a + parasite. “She is a good, steady woman,” was everybody’s verdict. + </p> + <p> + Her willingness to oblige, which knew no bounds when it was not demanded + of her, was indeed, like her assumed bluntness, a necessity of her + position. She had at length understood what her life must be, seeing that + she was at everybody’s mercy; and needing to please everybody, she would + laugh with young people, who liked her for a sort of wheedling flattery + which always wins them; guessing and taking part with their fancies, she + would make herself their spokeswoman, and they thought her a delightful <i>confidante</i>, + since she had no right to find fault with them. + </p> + <p> + Her absolute secrecy also won her the confidence of their seniors; for, + like Ninon, she had certain manly qualities. As a rule, our confidence is + given to those below rather than above us. We employ our inferiors rather + than our betters in secret transactions, and they thus become the + recipients of our inmost thoughts, and look on at our meditations; + Richelieu thought he had achieved success when he was admitted to the + Council. This penniless woman was supposed to be so dependent on every one + about her, that she seemed doomed to perfect silence. She herself called + herself the Family Confessional. + </p> + <p> + The Baroness only, remembering her ill-usage in childhood by the cousin + who, though younger, was stronger than herself, never wholly trusted her. + Besides, out of sheer modesty, she would never have told her domestic + sorrows to any one but God. + </p> + <p> + It may here be well to add that the Baron’s house preserved all its + magnificence in the eyes of Lisbeth Fischer, who was not struck, as the + parvenu perfumer had been, with the penury stamped on the shabby chairs, + the dirty hangings, and the ripped silk. The furniture we live with is in + some sort like our own person; seeing ourselves every day, we end, like + the Baron, by thinking ourselves but little altered, and still youthful, + when others see that our head is covered with chinchilla, our forehead + scarred with circumflex accents, our stomach assuming the rotundity of a + pumpkin. So these rooms, always blazing in Betty’s eyes with the Bengal + fire of Imperial victory, were to her perennially splendid. + </p> + <p> + As time went on, Lisbeth had contracted some rather strange old-maidish + habits. For instance, instead of following the fashions, she expected the + fashion to accept her ways and yield to her always out-of-date notions. + When the Baroness gave her a pretty new bonnet, or a gown in the fashion + of the day, Betty remade it completely at home, and spoilt it by producing + a dress of the style of the Empire or of her old Lorraine costume. A + thirty-franc bonnet came out a rag, and the gown a disgrace. On this + point, Lisbeth was as obstinate as a mule; she would please no one but + herself and believed herself charming; whereas this assimilative process—harmonious, + no doubt, in so far as that it stamped her for an old maid from head to + foot—made her so ridiculous, that, with the best will in the world, + no one could admit her on any smart occasion. + </p> + <p> + This refractory, capricious, and independent spirit, and the inexplicable + wild shyness of the woman for whom the Baron had four times found a match—an + employe in his office, a retired major, an army contractor, and a half-pay + captain—while she had refused an army lacemaker, who had since made + his fortune, had won her the name of the Nanny Goat, which the Baron gave + her in jest. But this nickname only met the peculiarities that lay on the + surface, the eccentricities which each of us displays to his neighbors in + social life. This woman, who, if closely studied, would have shown the + most savage traits of the peasant class, was still the girl who had clawed + her cousin’s nose, and who, if she had not been trained to reason, would + perhaps have killed her in a fit of jealousy. + </p> + <p> + It was only her knowledge of the laws and of the world that enabled her to + control the swift instinct with which country folk, like wild men, reduce + impulse to action. In this alone, perhaps, lies the difference between + natural and civilized man. The savage has only impulse; the civilized man + has impulses and ideas. And in the savage the brain retains, as we may + say, but few impressions, it is wholly at the mercy of the feeling that + rushes in upon it; while in the civilized man, ideas sink into the heart + and change it; he has a thousand interests and many feelings, where the + savage has but one at a time. This is the cause of the transient + ascendency of a child over its parents, which ceases as soon as it is + satisfied; in the man who is still one with nature, this contrast is + constant. Cousin Betty, a savage of Lorraine, somewhat treacherous too, + was of this class of natures, which are commoner among the lower orders + than is supposed, accounting for the conduct of the populace during + revolutions. + </p> + <p> + At the time when this <i>Drama</i> opens, if Cousin Betty would have + allowed herself to be dressed like other people; if, like the women of + Paris, she had been accustomed to wear each fashion in its turn, she would + have been presentable and acceptable, but she preserved the stiffness of a + stick. Now a woman devoid of all the graces, in Paris simply does not + exist. The fine but hard eyes, the severe features, the Calabrian fixity + of complexion which made Lisbeth like a figure by Giotto, and of which a + true Parisian would have taken advantage, above all, her strange way of + dressing, gave her such an extraordinary appearance that she sometimes + looked like one of those monkeys in petticoats taken about by little + Savoyards. As she was well known in the houses connected by family which + she frequented, and restricted her social efforts to that little circle, + as she liked her own home, her singularities no longer astonished anybody; + and out of doors they were lost in the immense stir of Paris street-life, + where only pretty women are ever looked at. + </p> + <p> + Hortense’s laughter was at this moment caused by a victory won over her + Cousin Lisbeth’s perversity; she had just wrung from her an avowal she had + been hoping for these three years past. However secretive an old maid may + be, there is one sentiment which will always avail to make her break her + fast from words, and that is her vanity. For the last three years, + Hortense, having become very inquisitive on such matters, had pestered her + cousin with questions, which, however, bore the stamp of perfect + innocence. She wanted to know why her cousin had never married. Hortense, + who knew of the five offers that she had refused, had constructed her + little romance; she supposed that Lisbeth had had a passionate attachment, + and a war of banter was the result. Hortense would talk of “We young + girls!” when speaking of herself and her cousin. + </p> + <p> + Cousin Betty had on several occasions answered in the same tone—“And + who says I have not a lover?” So Cousin Betty’s lover, real or fictitious, + became a subject of mild jesting. At last, after two years of this petty + warfare, the last time Lisbeth had come to the house Hortense’s first + question had been: + </p> + <p> + “And how is your lover?” + </p> + <p> + “Pretty well, thank you,” was the answer. “He is rather ailing, poor young + man.” + </p> + <p> + “He has delicate health?” asked the Baroness, laughing. + </p> + <p> + “I should think so! He is fair. A sooty thing like me can love none but a + fair man with a color like the moon.” + </p> + <p> + “But who is he? What does he do?” asked Hortense. “Is he a prince?” + </p> + <p> + “A prince of artisans, as I am queen of the bobbin. Is a poor woman like + me likely to find a lover in a man with a fine house and money in the + funds, or in a duke of the realm, or some Prince Charming out of a fairy + tale?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I should so much like to see him!” cried Hortense, smiling. + </p> + <p> + “To see what a man can be like who can love the Nanny Goat?” retorted + Lisbeth. + </p> + <p> + “He must be some monster of an old clerk, with a goat’s beard!” Hortense + said to her mother. + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, you are quite mistaken, mademoiselle.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you mean that you really have a lover?” Hortense exclaimed in + triumph. + </p> + <p> + “As sure as you have not!” retorted Lisbeth, nettled. + </p> + <p> + “But if you have a lover, why don’t you marry him, Lisbeth?” said the + Baroness, shaking her head at her daughter. “We have been hearing rumors + about him these three years. You have had time to study him; and if he has + been faithful so long, you should not persist in a delay which must be + hard upon him. After all, it is a matter of conscience; and if he is + young, it is time to take a brevet of dignity.” + </p> + <p> + Cousin Betty had fixed her gaze on Adeline, and seeing that she was + jesting, she replied: + </p> + <p> + “It would be marrying hunger and thirst; he is a workman, I am a + workwoman. If we had children, they would be workmen.—No, no; we + love each other spiritually; it is less expensive.” + </p> + <p> + “Why do you keep him in hiding?” Hortense asked. + </p> + <p> + “He wears a round jacket,” replied the old maid, laughing. + </p> + <p> + “You truly love him?” the Baroness inquired. + </p> + <p> + “I believe you! I love him for his own sake, the dear cherub. For four + years his home has been in my heart.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, if you love him for himself,” said the Baroness gravely, “and + if he really exists, you are treating him criminally. You do not know how + to love truly.” + </p> + <p> + “We all know that from our birth,” said Lisbeth. + </p> + <p> + “No, there are women who love and yet are selfish, and that is your case.” + </p> + <p> + Cousin Betty’s head fell, and her glance would have made any one shiver + who had seen it; but her eyes were on her reel of thread. + </p> + <p> + “If you would introduce your so-called lover to us, Hector might find him + employment, or put him in a position to make money.” + </p> + <p> + “That is out of the question,” said Cousin Betty. + </p> + <p> + “And why?” + </p> + <p> + “He is a sort of Pole—a refugee——” + </p> + <p> + “A conspirator?” cried Hortense. “What luck for you!—Has he had any + adventures?” + </p> + <p> + “He has fought for Poland. He was a professor in the school where the + students began the rebellion; and as he had been placed there by the Grand + Duke Constantine, he has no hope of mercy——” + </p> + <p> + “A professor of what?” + </p> + <p> + “Of fine arts.” + </p> + <p> + “And he came to Paris when the rebellion was quelled?” + </p> + <p> + “In 1833. He came through Germany on foot.” + </p> + <p> + “Poor young man! And how old is he?” + </p> + <p> + “He was just four-and-twenty when the insurrection broke out—he is + twenty-nine now.” + </p> + <p> + “Fifteen years your junior,” said the Baroness. + </p> + <p> + “And what does he live on?” asked Hortense. + </p> + <p> + “His talent.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, he gives lessons?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Cousin Betty; “he gets them, and hard ones too!” + </p> + <p> + “And his Christian name—is it a pretty name?” + </p> + <p> + “Wenceslas.” + </p> + <p> + “What a wonderful imagination you old maids have!” exclaimed the Baroness. + “To hear you talk, Lisbeth, one might really believe you.” + </p> + <p> + “You see, mamma, he is a Pole, and so accustomed to the knout that Lisbeth + reminds him of the joys of his native land.” + </p> + <p> + They all three laughed, and Hortense sang <i>Wenceslas! idole de mon ame!</i> + instead of <i>O Mathilde</i>. + </p> + <p> + Then for a few minutes there was a truce. + </p> + <p> + “These children,” said Cousin Betty, looking at Hortense as she went up to + her, “fancy that no one but themselves can have lovers.” + </p> + <p> + “Listen,” Hortense replied, finding herself alone with her cousin, “if you + prove to me that Wenceslas is not a pure invention, I will give you my + yellow cashmere shawl.” + </p> + <p> + “He is a Count.” + </p> + <p> + “Every Pole is a Count!” + </p> + <p> + “But he is not a Pole; he comes from Liva—Litha——” + </p> + <p> + “Lithuania?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “Livonia?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, that’s it!” + </p> + <p> + “But what is his name?” + </p> + <p> + “I wonder if you are capable of keeping a secret.” + </p> + <p> + “Cousin Betty, I will be as mute!——” + </p> + <p> + “As a fish?” + </p> + <p> + “As a fish.” + </p> + <p> + “By your life eternal?” + </p> + <p> + “By my life eternal!” + </p> + <p> + “No, by your happiness in this world?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, his name is Wenceslas Steinbock.” + </p> + <p> + “One of Charles XII.‘s Generals was named Steinbock.” + </p> + <p> + “He was his grand-uncle. His own father settled in Livonia after the death + of the King of Sweden; but he lost all his fortune during the campaign of + 1812, and died, leaving the poor boy at the age of eight without a penny. + The Grand Duke Constantine, for the honor of the name of Steinbock, took + him under his protection and sent him to school.” + </p> + <p> + “I will not break my word,” Hortense replied; “prove his existence, and + you shall have the yellow shawl. The color is most becoming to dark + skins.” + </p> + <p> + “And you will keep my secret?” + </p> + <p> + “And tell you mine.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, the next time I come you shall have the proof.” + </p> + <p> + “But the proof will be the lover,” said Hortense. + </p> + <p> + Cousin Betty, who, since her first arrival in Paris, had been bitten by a + mania for shawls, was bewitched by the idea of owning the yellow cashmere + given to his wife by the Baron in 1808, and handed down from mother to + daughter after the manner of some families in 1830. The shawl had been a + good deal worn ten years ago; but the costly object, now always kept in + its sandal-wood box, seemed to the old maid ever new, like the + drawing-room furniture. So she brought in her handbag a present for the + Baroness’ birthday, by which she proposed to prove the existence of her + romantic lover. + </p> + <p> + This present was a silver seal formed of three little figures back to + back, wreathed with foliage, and supporting the Globe. They represented + Faith, Hope, and Charity; their feet rested on monsters rending each + other, among them the symbolical serpent. In 1846, now that such immense + strides have been made in the art of which Benvenuto Cellini was the + master, by Mademoiselle de Fauveau, Wagner, Jeanest, Froment-Meurice, and + wood-carvers like Lienard, this little masterpiece would amaze nobody; but + at that time a girl who understood the silversmith’s art stood astonished + as she held the seal which Lisbeth put into her hands, saying: + </p> + <p> + “There! what do you think of that?” + </p> + <p> + In design, attitude, and drapery the figures were of the school of + Raphael; but the execution was in the style of the Florentine metal + workers—the school created by Donatello, Brunelleschi, Ghiberti, + Benvenuto Cellini, John of Bologna, and others. The French masters of the + Renaissance had never invented more strangely twining monsters than these + that symbolized the evil passions. The palms, ferns, reeds, and foliage + that wreathed the Virtues showed a style, a taste, a handling that might + have driven a practised craftsman to despair; a scroll floated above the + three figures; and on its surface, between the heads, were a W, a chamois, + and the word <i>fecit</i>. + </p> + <p> + “Who carved this?” asked Hortense. + </p> + <p> + “Well, just my lover,” replied Lisbeth. “There are ten months’ work in it; + I could earn more at making sword-knots.—He told me that Steinbock + means a rock goat, a chamois, in German. And he intends to mark all his + work in that way.—Ah, ha! I shall have the shawl.” + </p> + <p> + “What for?” + </p> + <p> + “Do you suppose I could buy such a thing, or order it? Impossible! Well, + then, it must have been given to me. And who would make me such a present? + A lover!” + </p> + <p> + Hortense, with an artfulness that would have frightened Lisbeth Fischer if + she had detected it, took care not to express all her admiration, though + she was full of the delight which every soul that is open to a sense of + beauty must feel on seeing a faultless piece of work—perfect and + unexpected. + </p> + <p> + “On my word,” said she, “it is very pretty.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it is pretty,” said her cousin; “but I like an orange-colored shawl + better.—Well, child, my lover spends his time in doing such work as + that. Since he came to Paris he has turned out three or four little + trifles in that style, and that is the fruit of four years’ study and + toil. He has served as apprentice to founders, metal-casters, and + goldsmiths.—There he has paid away thousands and hundreds of francs. + And my gentleman tells me that in a few months now he will be famous and + rich——” + </p> + <p> + “Then you often see him?” + </p> + <p> + “Bless me, do you think it is all a fable? I told you truth in jest.” + </p> + <p> + “And he is in love with you?” asked Hortense eagerly. + </p> + <p> + “He adores me,” replied Lisbeth very seriously. “You see, child, he had + never seen any women but the washed out, pale things they all are in the + north, and a slender, brown, youthful thing like me warmed his heart.—But, + mum; you promised, you know!” + </p> + <p> + “And he will fare like the five others,” said the girl ironically, as she + looked at the seal. + </p> + <p> + “Six others, miss. I left one in Lorraine, who, to this day, would fetch + the moon down for me.” + </p> + <p> + “This one does better than that,” said Hortense; “he has brought down the + sun.” + </p> + <p> + “Where can that be turned into money?” asked her cousin. “It takes wide + lands to benefit by the sunshine.” + </p> + <p> + These witticisms, fired in quick retort, and leading to the sort of giddy + play that may be imagined, had given cause for the laughter which had + added to the Baroness’ troubles by making her compare her daughter’s + future lot with the present, when she was free to indulge the + light-heartedness of youth. + </p> + <p> + “But to give you a gem which cost him six months of work, he must be under + some great obligations to you?” said Hortense, in whom the silver seal had + suggested very serious reflections. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you want to know too much at once!” said her cousin. “But, listen, I + will let you into a little plot.” + </p> + <p> + “Is your lover in it too?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, ho! you want so much to see him! But, as you may suppose, an old maid + like Cousin Betty, who had managed to keep a lover for five years, keeps + him well hidden.—Now, just let me alone. You see, I have neither cat + nor canary, neither dog nor a parrot, and the old Nanny Goat wanted + something to pet and tease—so I treated myself to a Polish Count.” + </p> + <p> + “Has he a moustache?” + </p> + <p> + “As long as that,” said Lisbeth, holding up her shuttle filled with gold + thread. She always took her lace-work with her, and worked till dinner was + served. + </p> + <p> + “If you ask too many questions, you will be told nothing,” she went on. + “You are but two-and-twenty, and you chatter more than I do though I am + forty-two—not to say forty-three.” + </p> + <p> + “I am listening; I am a wooden image,” said Hortense. + </p> + <p> + “My lover has finished a bronze group ten inches high,” Lisbeth went on. + “It represents Samson slaying a lion, and he has kept it buried till it is + so rusty that you might believe it to be as old as Samson himself. This + fine piece is shown at the shop of one of the old curiosity sellers on the + Place du Carrousel, near my lodgings. Now, your father knows Monsieur + Popinot, the Minister of Commerce and Agriculture, and the Comte de + Rastignac, and if he would mention the group to them as a fine antique he + had seen by chance! It seems that such things take the fancy of your grand + folks, who don’t care so much about gold lace, and that my man’s fortune + would be made if one of them would buy or even look at the wretched piece + of metal. The poor fellow is sure that it might be mistaken for old work, + and that the rubbish is worth a great deal of money. And then, if one of + the ministers should purchase the group, he would go to pay his respects, + and prove that he was the maker, and be almost carried in triumph! Oh! he + believes he has reached the pinnacle; poor young man, and he is as proud + as two newly-made Counts.” + </p> + <p> + “Michael Angelo over again; but, for a lover, he has kept his head on his + shoulders!” said Hortense. “And how much does he want for it?” + </p> + <p> + “Fifteen hundred francs. The dealer will not let it go for less, since he + must take his commission.” + </p> + <p> + “Papa is in the King’s household just now,” said Hortense. “He sees those + two ministers every day at the Chamber, and he will do the thing—I + undertake that. You will be a rich woman, Madame la Comtesse de + Steinbock.” + </p> + <p> + “No, the boy is too lazy; for whole weeks he sits twiddling with bits of + red wax, and nothing comes of it. Why, he spends all his days at the + Louvre and the Library, looking at prints and sketching things. He is an + idler!” + </p> + <p> + The cousins chatted and giggled; Hortense laughing a forced laugh, for she + was invaded by a kind of love which every girl has gone through—the + love of the unknown, love in its vaguest form, when every thought is + accreted round some form which is suggested by a chance word, as the + efflorescence of hoar-frost gathers about a straw that the wind has blown + against the window-sill. + </p> + <p> + For the past ten months she had made a reality of her cousin’s imaginary + romance, believing, like her mother, that Lisbeth would never marry; and + now, within a week, this visionary being had become Comte Wenceslas + Steinbock, the dream had a certificate of birth, the wraith had solidified + into a young man of thirty. The seal she held in her hand—a sort of + Annunciation in which genius shone like an immanent light—had the + powers of a talisman. Hortense felt such a surge of happiness, that she + almost doubted whether the tale were true; there was a ferment in her + blood, and she laughed wildly to deceive her cousin. + </p> + <p> + “But I think the drawing-room door is open,” said Lisbeth; “let us go and + see if Monsieur Crevel is gone.” + </p> + <p> + “Mamma has been very much out of spirits these two days. I suppose the + marriage under discussion has come to nothing!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it may come on again. He is—I may tell you so much—a + Councillor of the Supreme Court. How would you like to be Madame la + Presidente? If Monsieur Crevel has a finger in it, he will tell me about + it if I ask him. I shall know by to-morrow if there is any hope.” + </p> + <p> + “Leave the seal with me,” said Hortense; “I will not show it—mamma’s + birthday is not for a month yet; I will give it to you that morning.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no. Give it back to me; it must have a case.” + </p> + <p> + “But I will let papa see it, that he may know what he is talking about to + the ministers, for men in authority must be careful what they say,” urged + the girl. + </p> + <p> + “Well, do not show it to your mother—that is all I ask; for if she + believed I had a lover, she would make game of me.” + </p> + <p> + “I promise.” + </p> + <p> + The cousins reached the drawing-room just as the Baroness turned faint. + Her daughter’s cry of alarm recalled her to herself. Lisbeth went off to + fetch some salts. When she came back, she found the mother and daughter in + each other’s arms, the Baroness soothing her daughter’s fears, and saying: + </p> + <p> + “It was nothing; a little nervous attack.—There is your father,” she + added, recognizing the Baron’s way of ringing the bell. “Say not a word to + him.” + </p> + <p> + Adeline rose and went to meet her husband, intending to take him into the + garden and talk to him till dinner should be served of the difficulties + about the proposed match, getting him to come to some decision as to the + future, and trying to hint at some warning advice. + </p> + <p> + Baron Hector Hulot came in, in a dress at once lawyer-like and Napoleonic, + for Imperial men—men who had been attached to the Emperor—were + easily distinguishable by their military deportment, their blue coats with + gilt buttons, buttoned to the chin, their black silk stock, and an + authoritative demeanor acquired from a habit of command in circumstances + requiring despotic rapidity. There was nothing of the old man in the + Baron, it must be admitted; his sight was still so good, that he could + read without spectacles; his handsome oval face, framed in whiskers that + were indeed too black, showed a brilliant complexion, ruddy with the veins + that characterize a sanguine temperament; and his stomach, kept in order + by a belt, had not exceeded the limits of “the majestic,” as + Brillat-Savarin says. A fine aristocratic air and great affability served + to conceal the libertine with whom Crevel had had such high times. He was + one of those men whose eyes always light up at the sight of a pretty + woman, even of such as merely pass by, never to be seen again. + </p> + <p> + “Have you been speaking, my dear?” asked Adeline, seeing him with an + anxious brow. + </p> + <p> + “No,” replied Hector, “but I am worn out with hearing others speak for two + hours without coming to a vote. They carry on a war of words, in which + their speeches are like a cavalry charge which has no effect on the enemy. + Talk has taken the place of action, which goes very much against the grain + with men who are accustomed to marching orders, as I said to the Marshal + when I left him. However, I have enough of being bored on the ministers’ + bench; here I may play.—How do, la Chevre!—Good morning, + little kid,” and he took his daughter round the neck, kissed her, and made + her sit on his knee, resting her head on his shoulder, that he might feel + her soft golden hair against his cheek. + </p> + <p> + “He is tired and worried,” said his wife to herself. “I shall only worry + him more.—I will wait.—Are you going to be at home this + evening?” she asked him. + </p> + <p> + “No, children. After dinner I must go out. If it had not been the day when + Lisbeth and the children and my brother come to dinner, you would not have + seen me at all.” + </p> + <p> + The Baroness took up the newspaper, looked down the list of theatres, and + laid it down again when she had seen that Robert <i>le Diable</i> was to + be given at the Opera. Josepha, who had left the Italian Opera six months + since for the French Opera, was to take the part of Alice. + </p> + <p> + This little pantomime did not escape the Baron, who looked hard at his + wife. Adeline cast down her eyes and went out into the garden; her husband + followed her. + </p> + <p> + “Come, what is it, Adeline?” said he, putting his arm round her waist and + pressing her to his side. “Do not you know that I love you more than——” + </p> + <p> + “More than Jenny Cadine or Josepha!” said she, boldly interrupting him. + </p> + <p> + “Who put that into your head?” exclaimed the Baron, releasing his wife, + and starting back a step or two. + </p> + <p> + “I got an anonymous letter, which I burnt at once, in which I was told, my + dear, that the reason Hortense’s marriage was broken off was the poverty + of our circumstances. Your wife, my dear Hector, would never have said a + word; she knew of your connection with Jenny Cadine, and did she ever + complain?—But as the mother of Hortense, I am bound to speak the + truth.” + </p> + <p> + Hulot, after a short silence, which was terrible to his wife, whose heart + beat loud enough to be heard, opened his arms, clasped her to his heart, + kissed her forehead, and said with the vehemence of enthusiasm: + </p> + <p> + “Adeline, you are an angel, and I am a wretch——” + </p> + <p> + “No, no,” cried the Baroness, hastily laying her hand upon his lips to + hinder him from speaking evil of himself. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, for I have not at this moment a sou to give to Hortense, and I am + most unhappy. But since you open your heart to me, I may pour into it the + trouble that is crushing me.—Your Uncle Fischer is in difficulties, + and it is I who dragged him there, for he has accepted bills for me to the + amount of twenty-five thousand francs! And all for a woman who deceives + me, who laughs at me behind my back, and calls me an old dyed Tom. It is + frightful! A vice which costs me more than it would to maintain a family!—And + I cannot resist!—I would promise you here and now never to see that + abominable Jewess again; but if she wrote me two lines, I should go to + her, as we marched into fire under the Emperor.” + </p> + <p> + “Do not be so distressed,” cried the poor woman in despair, but forgetting + her daughter as she saw the tears in her husband’s eyes. “There are my + diamonds; whatever happens, save my uncle.” + </p> + <p> + “Your diamonds are worth scarcely twenty thousand francs nowadays. That + would not be enough for old Fischer, so keep them for Hortense; I will see + the Marshal to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + “My poor dear!” said the Baroness, taking her Hector’s hands and kissing + them. + </p> + <p> + This was all the scolding he got. Adeline sacrificed her jewels, the + father made them a present to Hortense, she regarded this as a sublime + action, and she was helpless. + </p> + <p> + “He is the master; he could take everything, and he leaves me my diamonds; + he is divine!” + </p> + <p> + This was the current of her thoughts; and indeed the wife had gained more + by her sweetness than another perhaps could have achieved by a fit of + angry jealousy. + </p> + <p> + The moralist cannot deny that, as a rule, well-bred though very wicked men + are far more attractive and lovable than virtuous men; having crimes to + atone for, they crave indulgence by anticipation, by being lenient to the + shortcomings of those who judge them, and they are thought most kind. + Though there are no doubt some charming people among the virtuous, Virtue + considers itself fair enough, unadorned, to be at no pains to please; and + then all really virtuous persons, for the hypocrites do not count, have + some slight doubts as to their position; they believe that they are + cheated in the bargain of life on the whole, and they indulge in acid + comments after the fashion of those who think themselves unappreciated. + </p> + <p> + Hence the Baron, who accused himself of ruining his family, displayed all + his charm of wit and his most seductive graces for the benefit of his + wife, for his children, and his Cousin Lisbeth. + </p> + <p> + Then, when his son arrived with Celestine, Crevel’s daughter, who was + nursing the infant Hulot, he was delightful to his daughter-in-law, + loading her with compliments—a treat to which Celestine’s vanity was + little accustomed for no moneyed bride more commonplace or more utterly + insignificant was ever seen. The grandfather took the baby from her, + kissed it, declared it was a beauty and a darling; he spoke to it in baby + language, prophesied that it would grow to be taller than himself, + insinuated compliments for his son’s benefit, and restored the child to + the Normandy nurse who had charge of it. Celestine, on her part, gave the + Baroness a look, as much as to say, “What a delightful man!” and she + naturally took her father-in-law’s part against her father. + </p> + <p> + After thus playing the charming father-in-law and the indulgent grandpapa, + the Baron took his son into the garden, and laid before him a variety of + observations full of good sense as to the attitude to be taken up by the + Chamber on a certain ticklish question which had that morning come under + discussion. The young lawyer was struck with admiration for the depth of + his father’s insight, touched by his cordiality, and especially by the + deferential tone which seemed to place the two men on a footing of + equality. + </p> + <p> + Monsieur Hulot <i>junior</i> was in every respect the young Frenchman, as + he has been moulded by the Revolution of 1830; his mind infatuated with + politics, respectful of his own hopes, and concealing them under an + affectation of gravity, very envious of successful men, making + sententiousness do the duty of witty rejoinders—the gems of the + French language—with a high sense of importance, and mistaking + arrogance for dignity. + </p> + <p> + Such men are walking coffins, each containing a Frenchman of the past; now + and again the Frenchman wakes up and kicks against his English-made + casing; but ambition stifles him, and he submits to be smothered. The + coffin is always covered with black cloth. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, here is my brother!” said Baron Hulot, going to meet the Count at the + drawing-room door. + </p> + <p> + Having greeted the probable successor of the late Marshal Montcornet, he + led him forward by the arm with every show of affection and respect. + </p> + <p> + The older man, a member of the Chamber of Peers, but excused from + attendance on account of his deafness, had a handsome head, chilled by + age, but with enough gray hair still to be marked in a circle by the + pressure of his hat. He was short, square, and shrunken, but carried his + hale old age with a free-and-easy air; and as he was full of excessive + activity, which had now no purpose, he divided his time between reading + and taking exercise. In a drawing-room he devoted his attention to waiting + on the wishes of the ladies. + </p> + <p> + “You are very merry here,” said he, seeing that the Baron shed a spirit of + animation on the little family gathering. “And yet Hortense is not + married,” he added, noticing a trace of melancholy on his sister-in-law’s + countenance. + </p> + <p> + “That will come all in good time,” Lisbeth shouted in his ear in a + formidable voice. + </p> + <p> + “So there you are, you wretched seedling that could never blossom,” said + he, laughing. + </p> + <p> + The hero of Forzheim rather liked Cousin Betty, for there were certain + points of resemblance between them. A man of the ranks, without any + education, his courage had been the sole mainspring of his military + promotion, and sound sense had taken the place of brilliancy. Of the + highest honor and clean-handed, he was ending a noble life in full + contentment in the centre of his family, which claimed all his affections, + and without a suspicion of his brother’s still undiscovered misconduct. No + one enjoyed more than he the pleasing sight of this family party, where + there never was the smallest disagreement, for the brothers and sisters + were all equally attached, Celestine having been at once accepted as one + of the family. But the worthy little Count wondered now and then why + Monsieur Crevel never joined the party. “Papa is in the country,” + Celestine shouted, and it was explained to him that the ex-perfumer was + away from home. + </p> + <p> + This perfect union of all her family made Madame Hulot say to herself, + “This, after all, is the best kind of happiness, and who can deprive us of + it?” + </p> + <p> + The General, on seeing his favorite Adeline the object of her husband’s + attentions, laughed so much about it that the Baron, fearing to seem + ridiculous, transferred his gallantries to his daughter-in-law, who at + these family dinners was always the object of his flattery and kind care, + for he hoped to win Crevel back through her, and make him forego his + resentment. + </p> + <p> + Any one seeing this domestic scene would have found it hard to believe + that the father was at his wits’ end, the mother in despair, the son + anxious beyond words as to his father’s future fate, and the daughter on + the point of robbing her cousin of her lover. + </p> + <p> + At seven o’clock the Baron, seeing his brother, his son, the Baroness, and + Hortense all engaged at whist, went off to applaud his mistress at the + Opera, taking with him Lisbeth Fischer, who lived in the Rue du Doyenne, + and who always made an excuse of the solitude of that deserted quarter to + take herself off as soon as dinner was over. Parisians will all admit that + the old maid’s prudence was but rational. + </p> + <p> + The existence of the maze of houses under the wing of the old Louvre is + one of those protests against obvious good sense which Frenchmen love, + that Europe may reassure itself as to the quantum of brains they are known + to have, and not be too much alarmed. Perhaps without knowing it, this + reveals some profound political idea. + </p> + <p> + It will surely not be a work of supererogation to describe this part of + Paris as it is even now, when we could hardly expect its survival; and our + grandsons, who will no doubt see the Louvre finished, may refuse to + believe that such a relic of barbarism should have survived for + six-and-thirty years in the heart of Paris and in the face of the palace + where three dynasties of kings have received, during those thirty-six + years, the elite of France and of Europe. + </p> + <p> + Between the little gate leading to the Bridge of the Carrousel and the Rue + du Musee, every one having come to Paris, were it but for a few days, must + have seen a dozen of houses with a decayed frontage where the dejected + owners have attempted no repairs, the remains of an old block of buildings + of which the destruction was begun at the time when Napoleon determined to + complete the Louvre. This street, and the blind alley known as the Impasse + du Doyenne, are the only passages into this gloomy and forsaken block, + inhabited perhaps by ghosts, for there never is anybody to be seen. The + pavement is much below the footway of the Rue du Musee, on a level with + that of the Rue Froidmanteau. Thus, half sunken by the raising of the + soil, these houses are also wrapped in the perpetual shadow cast by the + lofty buildings of the Louvre, darkened on that side by the northern + blast. Darkness, silence, an icy chill, and the cavernous depth of the + soil combine to make these houses a kind of crypt, tombs of the living. As + we drive in a hackney cab past this dead-alive spot, and chance to look + down the little Rue du Doyenne, a shudder freezes the soul, and we wonder + who can lie there, and what things may be done there at night, at an hour + when the alley is a cut-throat pit, and the vices of Paris run riot there + under the cloak of night. This question, frightful in itself, becomes + appalling when we note that these dwelling-houses are shut in on the side + towards the Rue de Richelieu by marshy ground, by a sea of tumbled + paving-stones between them and the Tuileries, by little garden-plots and + suspicious-looking hovels on the side of the great galleries, and by a + desert of building-stone and old rubbish on the side towards the old + Louvre. Henri III. and his favorites in search of their trunk-hose, and + Marguerite’s lovers in search of their heads, must dance sarabands by + moonlight in this wilderness overlooked by the roof of a chapel still + standing there as if to prove that the Catholic religion—so deeply + rooted in France—survives all else. + </p> + <p> + For forty years now has the Louvre been crying out by every gap in these + damaged walls, by every yawning window, “Rid me of these warts upon my + face!” This cutthroat lane has no doubt been regarded as useful, and has + been thought necessary as symbolizing in the heart of Paris the intimate + connection between poverty and the splendor that is characteristic of the + queen of cities. And indeed these chill ruins, among which the Legitimist + newspaper contracted the disease it is dying of—the abominable + hovels of the Rue du Musee, and the hoarding appropriated by the shop + stalls that flourish there—will perhaps live longer and more + prosperously than three successive dynasties. + </p> + <p> + In 1823 the low rents in these already condemned houses had tempted + Lisbeth Fischer to settle there, notwithstanding the necessity imposed + upon her by the state of the neighborhood to get home before nightfall. + This necessity, however, was in accordance with the country habits she + retained, of rising and going to bed with the sun, an arrangement which + saves country folk considerable sums in lights and fuel. She lived in one + of the houses which, since the demolition of the famous Hotel Cambaceres, + command a view of the square. + </p> + <p> + Just as Baron Hulot set his wife’s cousin down at the door of this house, + saying, “Good-night, Cousin,” an elegant-looking woman, young, small, + slender, pretty, beautifully dressed, and redolent of some delicate + perfume, passed between the wall and the carriage to go in. This lady, + without any premeditation, glanced up at the Baron merely to see the + lodger’s cousin, and the libertine at once felt the swift impression which + all Parisians know on meeting a pretty woman, realizing, as entomologists + have it, their <i>desiderata</i>; so he waited to put on one of his gloves + with judicious deliberation before getting into the carriage again, to + give himself an excuse for allowing his eye to follow the young woman, + whose skirts were pleasingly set out by something else than these odious + and delusive crinoline bustles. + </p> + <p> + “That,” said he to himself, “is a nice little person whose happiness I + should like to provide for, as she would certainly secure mine.” + </p> + <p> + When the unknown fair had gone into the hall at the foot of the stairs + going up to the front rooms, she glanced at the gate out of the corner of + her eye without precisely looking round, and she could see the Baron + riveted to the spot in admiration, consumed by curiosity and desire. This + is to every Parisian woman a sort of flower which she smells at with + delight, if she meets it on her way. Nay, certain women, though faithful + to their duties, pretty, and virtuous, come home much put out if they have + failed to cull such a posy in the course of their walk. + </p> + <p> + The lady ran upstairs, and in a moment a window on the second floor was + thrown open, and she appeared at it, but accompanied by a man whose + baldhead and somewhat scowling looks announced him as her husband. + </p> + <p> + “If they aren’t sharp and ingenious, the cunning jades!” thought the + Baron. “She does that to show me where she lives. But this is getting + rather warm, especially for this part of Paris. We must mind what we are + at.” + </p> + <p> + As he got into the <i>milord</i>, he looked up, and the lady and the + husband hastily vanished, as though the Baron’s face had affected them + like the mythological head of Medusa. + </p> + <p> + “It would seem that they know me,” thought the Baron. “That would account + for everything.” + </p> + <p> + As the carriage went up the Rue du Musee, he leaned forward to see the + lady again, and in fact she was again at the window. Ashamed of being + caught gazing at the hood under which her admirer was sitting, the unknown + started back at once. + </p> + <p> + “Nanny shall tell me who it is,” said the Baron to himself. + </p> + <p> + The sight of the Government official had, as will be seen, made a deep + impression on this couple. + </p> + <p> + “Why, it is Baron Hulot, the chief of the department to which my office + belongs!” exclaimed the husband as he left the window. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Marneffe, the old maid on the third floor at the back of the + courtyard, who lives with that young man, is his cousin. Is it not odd + that we should never have known that till to-day, and now find it out by + chance?” + </p> + <p> + “Mademoiselle Fischer living with a young man?” repeated the husband. + “That is porter’s gossip; do not speak so lightly of the cousin of a + Councillor of State who can blow hot and cold in the office as he pleases. + Now, come to dinner; I have been waiting for you since four o’clock.” + </p> + <p> + Pretty—very pretty—Madame Marneffe, the natural daughter of + Comte Montcornet, one of Napoleon’s most famous officers, had, on the + strength of a marriage portion of twenty thousand francs, found a husband + in an inferior official at the War Office. Through the interest of the + famous lieutenant-general—made marshal of France six months before + his death—this quill-driver had risen to unhoped-for dignity as + head-clerk of his office; but just as he was to be promoted to be + deputy-chief, the marshal’s death had cut off Marneffe’s ambitions and his + wife’s at the root. The very small salary enjoyed by Sieur Marneffe had + compelled the couple to economize in the matter of rent; for in his hands + Mademoiselle Valerie Fortin’s fortune had already melted away—partly + in paying his debts, and partly in the purchase of necessaries for + furnishing a house, but chiefly in gratifying the requirements of a pretty + young wife, accustomed in her mother’s house to luxuries she did not + choose to dispense with. The situation of the Rue du Doyenne, within easy + distance of the War Office, and the gay part of Paris, smiled on Monsieur + and Madame Marneffe, and for the last four years they had dwelt under the + same roof as Lisbeth Fischer. + </p> + <p> + Monsieur Jean-Paul-Stanislas Marneffe was one of the class of employes who + escape sheer brutishness by the kind of power that comes of depravity. The + small, lean creature, with thin hair and a starved beard, an unwholesome + pasty face, worn rather than wrinkled, with red-lidded eyes harnessed with + spectacles, shuffling in his gait, and yet meaner in his appearance, + realized the type of man that any one would conceive of as likely to be + placed in the dock for an offence against decency. + </p> + <p> + The rooms inhabited by this couple had the illusory appearance of sham + luxury seen in many Paris homes, and typical of a certain class of + household. In the drawing-room, the furniture covered with shabby cotton + velvet, the plaster statuettes pretending to be Florentine bronze, the + clumsy cast chandelier merely lacquered, with cheap glass saucers, the + carpet, whose small cost was accounted for in advancing life by the + quality of cotton used in the manufacture, now visible to the naked eye,—everything, + down to the curtains, which plainly showed that worsted damask has not + three years of prime, proclaimed poverty as loudly as a beggar in rags at + a church door. + </p> + <p> + The dining-room, badly kept by a single servant, had the sickening aspect + of a country inn; everything looked greasy and unclean. + </p> + <p> + Monsieur’s room, very like a schoolboy’s, furnished with the bed and + fittings remaining from his bachelor days, as shabby and worn as he was, + dusted perhaps once a week—that horrible room where everything was + in a litter, with old socks hanging over the horsehair-seated chairs, the + pattern outlined in dust, was that of a man to whom home is a matter of + indifference, who lives out of doors, gambling in cafes or elsewhere. + </p> + <p> + Madame’s room was an exception to the squalid slovenliness that disgraced + the living rooms, where the curtains were yellow with smoke and dust, and + where the child, evidently left to himself, littered every spot with his + toys. Valerie’s room and dressing-room were situated in the part of the + house which, on one side of the courtyard, joined the front half, looking + out on the street, to the wing forming the inner side of the court backing + against the adjoining property. Handsomely hung with chintz, furnished + with rosewood, and thickly carpeted, they proclaimed themselves as + belonging to a pretty woman—and indeed suggested the kept mistress. + A clock in the fashionable style stood on the velvet-covered mantelpiece. + There was a nicely fitted cabinet, and the Chinese flower-stands were + handsomely filled. The bed, the toilet-table, the wardrobe with its + mirror, the little sofa, and all the lady’s frippery bore the stamp of + fashion or caprice. Though everything was quite third-rate as to elegance + or quality, and nothing was absolutely newer than three years old, a dandy + would have had no fault to find but that the taste of all this luxury was + commonplace. Art, and the distinction that comes of the choice of things + that taste assimilates, was entirely wanting. A doctor of social science + would have detected a lover in two or three specimens of costly trumpery, + which could only have come there through that demi-god—always + absent, but always present if the lady is married. + </p> + <p> + The dinner, four hours behind time, to which the husband, wife, and child + sat down, betrayed the financial straits in which the household found + itself, for the table is the surest thermometer for gauging the income of + a Parisian family. Vegetable soup made with the water haricot beans had + been boiled in, a piece of stewed veal and potatoes sodden with water by + way of gravy, a dish of haricot beans, and cheap cherries, served and + eaten in cracked plates and dishes, with the dull-looking and + dull-sounding forks of German silver—was this a banquet worthy of + this pretty young woman? The Baron would have wept could he have seen it. + The dingy decanters could not disguise the vile hue of wine bought by the + pint at the nearest wineshop. The table-napkins had seen a week’s use. In + short, everything betrayed undignified penury, and the equal indifference + of the husband and wife to the decencies of home. The most superficial + observer on seeing them would have said that these two beings had come to + the stage when the necessity of living had prepared them for any kind of + dishonor that might bring luck to them. Valerie’s first words to her + husband will explain the delay that had postponed the dinner by the not + disinterested devotion of the cook. + </p> + <p> + “Samanon will only take your bills at fifty per cent, and insists on a + lien on your salary as security.” + </p> + <p> + So poverty, still unconfessed in the house of the superior official, and + hidden under a stipend of twenty-four thousand francs, irrespective of + presents, had reached its lowest stage in that of the clerk. + </p> + <p> + “You have caught on with the chief,” said the man, looking at his wife. + </p> + <p> + “I rather think so,” replied she, understanding the full meaning of his + slang expression. + </p> + <p> + “What is to become of us?” Marneffe went on. “The landlord will be down on + us to-morrow. And to think of your father dying without making a will! On + my honor, those men of the Empire all think themselves as immortal as + their Emperor.” + </p> + <p> + “Poor father!” said she. “I was his only child, and he was very fond of + me. The Countess probably burned the will. How could he forget me when he + used to give us as much as three or four thousand-franc notes at once, + from time to time?” + </p> + <p> + “We owe four quarters’ rent, fifteen hundred francs. Is the furniture + worth so much? <i>That is the question</i>, as Shakespeare says.” + </p> + <p> + “Now, good-bye, ducky!” said Valerie, who had only eaten a few mouthfuls + of the veal, from which the maid had extracted all the gravy for a brave + soldier just home from Algiers. “Great evils demand heroic remedies.” + </p> + <p> + “Valerie, where are you off to?” cried Marneffe, standing between his wife + and the door. + </p> + <p> + “I am going to see the landlord,” she replied, arranging her ringlets + under her smart bonnet. “You had better try to make friends with that old + maid, if she really is your chief’s cousin.” + </p> + <p> + The ignorance in which the dwellers under one roof can exist as to the + social position of their fellow-lodgers is a permanent fact which, as much + as any other, shows what the rush of Paris life is. Still, it is easily + conceivable that a clerk who goes early every morning to his office, comes + home only to dinner, and spends every evening out, and a woman swallowed + up in a round of pleasures, should know nothing of an old maid living on + the third floor beyond the courtyard of the house they dwell in, + especially when she lives as Mademoiselle Fischer did. + </p> + <p> + Up in the morning before any one else, Lisbeth went out to buy her bread, + milk, and live charcoal, never speaking to any one, and she went to bed + with the sun; she never had a letter or a visitor, nor chatted with her + neighbors. Here was one of those anonymous, entomological existences such + as are to be met with in many large tenements where, at the end of four + years, you unexpectedly learn that up on the fourth floor there is an old + man lodging who knew Voltaire, Pilatre de Rozier, Beaujon, Marcel, Mole, + Sophie Arnould, Franklin, and Robespierre. What Monsieur and Madame + Marneffe had just said concerning Lisbeth Fischer they had come to know, + in consequence, partly, of the loneliness of the neighborhood, and of the + alliance, to which their necessities had led, between them and the + doorkeepers, whose goodwill was too important to them not to have been + carefully encouraged. + </p> + <p> + Now, the old maid’s pride, silence, and reserve had engendered in the + porter and his wife the exaggerated respect and cold civility which betray + the unconfessed annoyance of an inferior. Also, the porter thought himself + in all essentials the equal of any lodger whose rent was no more than two + hundred and fifty francs. Cousin Betty’s confidences to Hortense were + true; and it is evident that the porter’s wife might be very likely to + slander Mademoiselle Fischer in her intimate gossip with the Marneffes, + while only intending to tell tales. + </p> + <p> + When Lisbeth had taken her candle from the hands of worthy Madame Olivier + the portress, she looked up to see whether the windows of the garret over + her own rooms were lighted up. At that hour, even in July, it was so dark + within the courtyard that the old maid could not get to bed without a + light. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you may be quite easy, Monsieur Steinbock is in his room. He has not + been out even,” said Madame Olivier, with meaning. + </p> + <p> + Lisbeth made no reply. She was still a peasant, in so far that she was + indifferent to the gossip of persons unconnected with her. Just as a + peasant sees nothing beyond his village, she cared for nobody’s opinion + outside the little circle in which she lived. So she boldly went up, not + to her own room, but to the garret; and this is why. At dessert she had + filled her bag with fruit and sweets for her lover, and she went to give + them to him, exactly as an old lady brings home a biscuit for her dog. + </p> + <p> + She found the hero of Hortense’s dreams working by the light of a small + lamp, of which the light was intensified by the use of a bottle of water + as a lens—a pale young man, seated at a workman’s bench covered with + a modeler’s tools, wax, chisels, rough-hewn stone, and bronze castings; he + wore a blouse, and had in his hand a little group in red wax, which he + gazed at like a poet absorbed in his labors. + </p> + <p> + “Here, Wenceslas, see what I have brought you,” said she, laying her + handkerchief on a corner of the table; then she carefully took the + sweetmeats and fruit out of her bag. + </p> + <p> + “You are very kind, mademoiselle,” replied the exile in melancholy tones. + </p> + <p> + “It will do you good, poor boy. You get feverish by working so hard; you + were not born to such a rough life.” + </p> + <p> + Wenceslas Steinbock looked at her with a bewildered air. + </p> + <p> + “Eat—come, eat,” said she sharply, “instead of looking at me as you + do at one of your images when you are satisfied with it.” + </p> + <p> + On being thus smacked with words, the young man seemed less puzzled, for + this, indeed, was the female Mentor whose tender moods were always a + surprise to him, so much more accustomed was he to be scolded. + </p> + <p> + Though Steinbock was nine-and-twenty, like many fair men, he looked five + or six years younger; and seeing his youth, though its freshness had faded + under the fatigue and stress of life in exile, by the side of that dry, + hard face, it seemed as though Nature had blundered in the distribution of + sex. He rose and threw himself into a deep chair of Louis XV. pattern, + covered with yellow Utrecht velvet, as if to rest himself. The old maid + took a greengage and offered it to him. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you,” said he, taking the plum. + </p> + <p> + “Are you tired?” said she, giving him another. + </p> + <p> + “I am not tired with work, but tired of life,” said he. + </p> + <p> + “What absurd notions you have!” she exclaimed with some annoyance. “Have + you not had a good genius to keep an eye on you?” she said, offering him + the sweetmeats, and watching him with pleasure as he ate them all. “You + see, I thought of you when dining with my cousin.” + </p> + <p> + “I know,” said he, with a look at Lisbeth that was at once affectionate + and plaintive, “but for you I should long since have ceased to live. But, + my dear lady, artists require relaxation——” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! there we come to the point!” cried she, interrupting him, her hands + on her hips, and her flashing eyes fixed on him. “You want to go wasting + your health in the vile resorts of Paris, like so many artisans, who end + by dying in the workhouse. No, no, make a fortune, and then, when you have + money in the funds, you may amuse yourself, child; then you will have + enough to pay for the doctor and for your pleasure, libertine that you + are.” + </p> + <p> + Wenceslas Steinbock, on receiving this broadside, with an accompaniment of + looks that pierced him like a magnetic flame, bent his head. The most + malignant slanderer on seeing this scene would at once have understood + that the hints thrown out by the Oliviers were false. Everything in this + couple, their tone, manner, and way of looking at each other, proved the + purity of their private live. The old maid showed the affection of rough + but very genuine maternal feeling; the young man submitted, as a + respectful son yields to the tyranny of a mother. The strange alliance + seemed to be the outcome of a strong will acting constantly on a weak + character, on the fluid nature peculiar to the Slavs, which, while it does + not hinder them from showing heroic courage in battle, gives them an + amazing incoherency of conduct, a moral softness of which physiologists + ought to try to detect the causes, since physiologists are to political + life what entomologists are to agriculture. + </p> + <p> + “But if I die before I am rich?” said Wenceslas dolefully. + </p> + <p> + “Die!” cried she. “Oh, I will not let you die. I have life enough for + both, and I would have my blood injected into your veins if necessary.” + </p> + <p> + Tears rose to Steinbock’s eyes as he heard her vehement and artless + speech. + </p> + <p> + “Do not be unhappy, my little Wenceslas,” said Lisbeth with feeling. “My + cousin Hortense thought your seal quite pretty, I am sure; and I will + manage to sell your bronze group, you will see; you will have paid me off, + you will be able to do as you please, you will soon be free. Come, smile a + little!” + </p> + <p> + “I can never repay you, mademoiselle,” said the exile. + </p> + <p> + “And why not?” asked the peasant woman, taking the Livonian’s part against + herself. + </p> + <p> + “Because you not only fed me, lodged me, cared for me in my poverty, but + you also gave me strength. You have made me what I am; you have often been + stern, you have made me very unhappy——” + </p> + <p> + “I?” said the old maid. “Are you going to pour out all your nonsense once + more about poetry and the arts, and to crack your fingers and stretch your + arms while you spout about the ideal, and beauty, and all your northern + madness?—Beauty is not to compare with solid pudding—and what + am I!—You have ideas in your brain? What is the use of them? I too + have ideas. What is the good of all the fine things you may have in your + soul if you can make no use of them? Those who have ideas do not get so + far as those who have none, if they don’t know which way to go. + </p> + <p> + “Instead of thinking over your ideas you must work.—Now, what have + you done while I was out?” + </p> + <p> + “What did your pretty cousin say?” + </p> + <p> + “Who told you she was pretty?” asked Lisbeth sharply, in a tone hollow + with tiger-like jealousy. + </p> + <p> + “Why, you did.” + </p> + <p> + “That was only to see your face. Do you want to go trotting after + petticoats? You who are so fond of women, well, make them in bronze. Let + us see a cast of your desires, for you will have to do without the ladies + for some little time yet, and certainly without my cousin, my good fellow. + She is not game for your bag; that young lady wants a man with sixty + thousand francs a year—and has found him! + </p> + <p> + “Why, your bed is not made!” she exclaimed, looking into the adjoining + room. “Poor dear boy, I quite forgot you!” + </p> + <p> + The sturdy woman pulled off her gloves, her cape and bonnet, and remade + the artist’s little camp bed as briskly as any housemaid. This mixture of + abruptness, of roughness even, with real kindness, perhaps accounts for + the ascendency Lisbeth had acquired over the man whom she regarded as her + personal property. Is not our attachment to life based on its alternations + of good and evil? + </p> + <p> + If the Livonian had happened to meet Madame Marneffe instead of Lisbeth + Fischer, he would have found a protectress whose complaisance must have + led him into some boggy or discreditable path, where he would have been + lost. He would certainly never have worked, nor the artist have been + hatched out. Thus, while he deplored the old maid’s grasping avarice, his + reason bid him prefer her iron hand to the life of idleness and peril led + by many of his fellow-countrymen. + </p> + <p> + This was the incident that had given rise to the coalition of female + energy and masculine feebleness—a contrast in union said not to be + uncommon in Poland. + </p> + <p> + In 1833 Mademoiselle Fischer, who sometimes worked into the night when + business was good, at about one o’clock one morning perceived a strong + smell of carbonic acid gas, and heard the groans of a dying man. The fumes + and the gasping came from a garret over the two rooms forming her + dwelling, and she supposed that a young man who had but lately come to + lodge in this attic—which had been vacant for three years—was + committing suicide. She ran upstairs, broke in the door by a push with her + peasant strength, and found the lodger writhing on a camp-bed in the + convulsions of death. She extinguished the brazier; the door was open, the + air rushed in, and the exile was saved. Then, when Lisbeth had put him to + bed like a patient, and he was asleep, she could detect the motives of his + suicide in the destitution of the rooms, where there was nothing whatever + but a wretched table, the camp-bed, and two chairs. + </p> + <p> + On the table lay a document, which she read: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “I am Count Wenceslas Steinbock, born at Prelia, in Livonia. + + “No one is to be accused of my death; my reasons for killing + myself are, in the words of Kosciusko, <i>Finis Polonioe</i>! + + “The grand-nephew of a valiant General under Charles XII. could + not beg. My weakly constitution forbids my taking military + service, and I yesterday saw the last of the hundred thalers which + I had brought with me from Dresden to Paris. I have left + twenty-five francs in the drawer of this table to pay the rent I owe + to the landlord. + + “My parents being dead, my death will affect nobody. I desire that + my countrymen will not blame the French Government. I have never + registered myself as a refugee, and I have asked for nothing; I + have met none of my fellow-exiles; no one in Paris knows of my + existence. + + “I am dying in Christian beliefs. May God forgive the last of the + Steinbocks! +</pre> + <h3> + “WENCESLAS.” + </h3> + <p> + Mademoiselle Fischer, deeply touched by the dying man’s honesty, opened + the drawer and found the five five-franc pieces to pay his rent. + </p> + <p> + “Poor young man!” cried she. “And with no one in the world to care about + him!” + </p> + <p> + She went downstairs to fetch her work, and sat stitching in the garret, + watching over the Livonian gentleman. + </p> + <p> + When he awoke his astonishment may be imagined on finding a woman sitting + by his bed; it was like the prolongation of a dream. As she sat there, + covering aiguillettes with gold thread, the old maid had resolved to take + charge of the poor youth whom she admired as he lay sleeping. + </p> + <p> + As soon as the young Count was fully awake, Lisbeth talked to give him + courage, and questioned him to find out how he might make a living. + Wenceslas, after telling his story, added that he owed his position to his + acknowledged talent for the fine arts. He had always had a preference for + sculpture; the necessary time for study had, however, seemed to him too + long for a man without money; and at this moment he was far too weak to do + any hard manual labor or undertake an important work in sculpture. All + this was Greek to Lisbeth Fischer. She replied to the unhappy man that + Paris offered so many openings that any man with will and courage might + find a living there. A man of spirit need never perish if he had a certain + stock of endurance. + </p> + <p> + “I am but a poor girl myself, a peasant, and I have managed to make myself + independent,” said she in conclusion. “If you will work in earnest, I have + saved a little money, and I will lend you, month by month, enough to live + upon; but to live frugally, and not to play ducks and drakes with or + squander in the streets. You can dine in Paris for twenty-five sous a day, + and I will get you your breakfast with mine every day. I will furnish your + rooms and pay for such teaching as you may think necessary. You shall give + me formal acknowledgment for the money I may lay out for you, and when you + are rich you shall repay me all. But if you do not work, I shall not + regard myself as in any way pledged to you, and I shall leave you to your + fate.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” cried the poor fellow, still smarting from the bitterness of his + first struggle with death, “exiles from every land may well stretch out + their hands to France, as the souls in Purgatory do to Paradise. In what + other country is such help to be found, and generous hearts even in such a + garret as this? You will be everything to me, my beloved benefactress; I + am your slave! Be my sweetheart,” he added, with one of the caressing + gestures familiar to the Poles, for which they are unjustly accused of + servility. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no; I am too jealous, I should make you unhappy; but I will gladly be + a sort of comrade,” replied Lisbeth. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, if only you knew how I longed for some fellow-creature, even a + tyrant, who would have something to say to me when I was struggling in the + vast solitude of Paris!” exclaimed Wenceslas. “I regretted Siberia, + whither I should be sent by the Emperor if I went home.—Be my + Providence!—I will work; I will be a better man than I am, though I + am not such a bad fellow!” + </p> + <p> + “Will you do whatever I bid you?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, I will adopt you as my child,” said she lightly. “Here I am + with a son risen from the grave. Come! we will begin at once. I will go + out and get what I want; you can dress, and come down to breakfast with me + when I knock on the ceiling with the broomstick.” + </p> + <p> + That day, Mademoiselle Fischer made some inquiries, at the houses to which + she carried her work home, as to the business of a sculptor. By dint of + many questions she ended by hearing of the studio kept by Florent and + Chanor, a house that made a special business of casting and finishing + decorative bronzes and handsome silver plate. Thither she went with + Steinbock, recommending him as an apprentice in sculpture, an idea that + was regarded as too eccentric. Their business was to copy the works of the + greatest artists, but they did not teach the craft. The old maid’s + persistent obstinacy so far succeeded that Steinbock was taken on to + design ornament. He very soon learned to model ornament, and invented + novelties; he had a gift for it. + </p> + <p> + Five months after he was out of his apprenticeship as a finisher, he made + acquaintance with Stidmann, the famous head of Florent’s studios. Within + twenty months Wenceslas was ahead of his master; but in thirty months the + old maid’s savings of sixteen years had melted entirely. Two thousand five + hundred francs in gold!—a sum with which she had intended to + purchase an annuity; and what was there to show for it? A Pole’s receipt! + And at this moment Lisbeth was working as hard as in her young days to + supply the needs of her Livonian. + </p> + <p> + When she found herself the possessor of a piece of paper instead of her + gold louis, she lost her head, and went to consult Monsieur Rivet, who for + fifteen years had been his clever head-worker’s friend and counselor. On + hearing her story, Monsieur and Madame Rivet scolded Lisbeth, told her she + was crazy, abused all refugees whose plots for reconstructing their nation + compromised the prosperity of the country and the maintenance of peace; + and they urged Lisbeth to find what in trade is called security. + </p> + <p> + “The only hold you have over this fellow is on his liberty,” observed + Monsieur Rivet. + </p> + <p> + Monsieur Achille Rivet was assessor at the Tribunal of Commerce. + </p> + <p> + “Imprisonment is no joke for a foreigner,” said he. “A Frenchman remains + five years in prison and comes out, free of his debts to be sure, for he + is thenceforth bound only by his conscience, and that never troubles him; + but a foreigner never comes out.—Give me your promissory note; my + bookkeeper will take it up; he will get it protested; you will both be + prosecuted and both be condemned to imprisonment in default of payment; + then, when everything is in due form, you must sign a declaration. By + doing this your interest will be accumulating, and you will have a pistol + always primed to fire at your Pole!” + </p> + <p> + The old maid allowed these legal steps to be taken, telling her protege + not to be uneasy, as the proceedings were merely to afford a guarantee to + a money-lender who agreed to advance them certain sums. This subterfuge + was due to the inventive genius of Monsieur Rivet. The guileless artist, + blindly trusting to his benefactress, lighted his pipe with the stamped + paper, for he smoked as all men do who have sorrows or energies that need + soothing. + </p> + <p> + One fine day Monsieur Rivet showed Mademoiselle Fischer a schedule, and + said to her: + </p> + <p> + “Here you have Wenceslas Steinbock bound hand and foot, and so + effectually, that within twenty-four hours you can have him snug in Clichy + for the rest of his days.” + </p> + <p> + This worthy and honest judge at the Chamber of Commerce experienced that + day the satisfaction that must come of having done a malignant good + action. Beneficence has so many aspects in Paris that this contradictory + expression really represents one of them. The Livonian being fairly + entangled in the toils of commercial procedure, the point was to obtain + payment; for the illustrious tradesman looked on Wenceslas as a swindler. + Feeling, sincerity, poetry, were in his eyes mere folly in business + matters. + </p> + <p> + So Rivet went off to see, in behalf of that poor Mademoiselle Fischer, + who, as he said, had been “done” by the Pole, the rich manufacturers for + whom Steinbock had worked. It happened that Stidmann—who, with the + help of these distinguished masters of the goldsmiths’ art, was raising + French work to the perfection it has now reached, allowing it to hold its + own against Florence and the Renaissance—Stidmann was in Chanor’s + private room when the army lace manufacturer called to make inquiries as + to “One Steinbock, a Polish refugee.” + </p> + <p> + “Whom do you call ‘One Steinbock’? Do you mean a young Livonian who was a + pupil of mine?” cried Stidmann ironically. “I may tell you, monsieur, that + he is a very great artist. It is said of me that I believe myself to be + the Devil. Well, that poor fellow does not know that he is capable of + becoming a god.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed,” said Rivet, well pleased. And then he added, “Though you take a + rather cavalier tone with a man who has the honor to be an Assessor on the + Tribunal of Commerce of the Department of the Seine.” + </p> + <p> + “Your pardon, Consul!” said Stidmann, with a military salute. + </p> + <p> + “I am delighted,” the Assessor went on, “to hear what you say. The man may + make money then?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly,” said Chanor; “but he must work. He would have a tidy sum by + now if he had stayed with us. What is to be done? Artists have a horror of + not being free.” + </p> + <p> + “They have a proper sense of their value and dignity,” replied Stidmann. + “I do not blame Wenceslas for walking alone, trying to make a name, and to + become a great man; he had a right to do so! But he was a great loss to me + when he left.” + </p> + <p> + “That, you see,” exclaimed Rivet, “is what all young students aim at as + soon as they are hatched out of the school-egg. Begin by saving money, I + say, and seek glory afterwards.” + </p> + <p> + “It spoils your touch to be picking up coin,” said Stidmann. “It is + Glory’s business to bring us wealth.” + </p> + <p> + “And, after all,” said Chanor to Rivet, “you cannot tether them.” + </p> + <p> + “They would eat the halter,” replied Stidmann. + </p> + <p> + “All these gentlemen have as much caprice as talent,” said Chanor, looking + at Stidmann. “They spend no end of money; they keep their girls, they + throw coin out of window, and then they have no time to work. They neglect + their orders; we have to employ workmen who are very inferior, but who + grow rich; and then they complain of the hard times, while, if they were + but steady, they might have piles of gold.” + </p> + <p> + “You old Lumignon,” said Stidmann, “you remind me of the publisher before + the Revolution who said—‘If only I could keep Montesquieu, Voltaire, + and Rousseau very poor in my backshed, and lock up their breeches in a + cupboard, what a lot of nice little books they would write to make my + fortune.’—If works of art could be hammered out like nails, workmen + would make them.—Give me a thousand francs, and don’t talk + nonsense.” + </p> + <p> + Worthy Monsieur Rivet went home, delighted for poor Mademoiselle Fischer, + who dined with him every Monday, and whom he found waiting for him. + </p> + <p> + “If you can only make him work,” said he, “you will have more luck than + wisdom; you will be repaid, interest, capital, and costs. This Pole has + talent, he can make a living; but lock up his trousers and his shoes, do + not let him go to the <i>Chaumiere</i> or the parish of Notre-Dame de + Lorette, keep him in leading-strings. If you do not take such precautions, + your artist will take to loafing, and if you only knew what these artists + mean by loafing! Shocking! Why, I have just heard that they will spend a + thousand-franc note in a day!” + </p> + <p> + This episode had a fatal influence on the home-life of Wenceslas and + Lisbeth. The benefactress flavored the exile’s bread with the wormwood of + reproof, now that she saw her money in danger, and often believed it to be + lost. From a kind mother she became a stepmother; she took the poor boy to + task, she nagged him, scolded him for working too slowly, and blamed him + for having chosen so difficult a profession. She could not believe that + those models in red wax—little figures and sketches for ornamental + work—could be of any value. Before long, vexed with herself for her + severity, she would try to efface the tears by her care and attention. + </p> + <p> + Then the poor young man, after groaning to think that he was dependent on + this shrew and under the thumb of a peasant of the Vosges, was bewitched + by her coaxing ways and by a maternal affection that attached itself + solely to the physical and material side of life. He was like a woman who + forgives a week of ill-usage for the sake of a kiss and a brief + reconciliation. + </p> + <p> + Thus Mademoiselle Fischer obtained complete power over his mind. The love + of dominion that lay as a germ in the old maid’s heart developed rapidly. + She could now satisfy her pride and her craving for action; had she not a + creature belonging to her, to be schooled, scolded, flattered, and made + happy, without any fear of a rival? Thus the good and bad sides of her + nature alike found play. If she sometimes victimized the poor artist, she + had, on the other hand, delicate impulses like the grace of wild flowers; + it was a joy to her to provide for all his wants; she would have given her + life for him, and Wenceslas knew it. Like every noble soul, the poor + fellow forgot the bad points, the defects of the woman who had told him + the story of her life as an excuse for her rough ways, and he remembered + only the benefits she had done him. + </p> + <p> + One day, exasperated with Wenceslas for having gone out walking instead of + sitting at work, she made a great scene. + </p> + <p> + “You belong to me,” said she. “If you were an honest man, you would try to + repay me the money you owe as soon as possible.” + </p> + <p> + The gentleman, in whose veins the blood of the Steinbocks was fired, + turned pale. + </p> + <p> + “Bless me,” she went on, “we soon shall have nothing to live on but the + thirty sous I earn—a poor work-woman!” + </p> + <p> + The two penniless creatures, worked up by their own war of words, grew + vehement; and for the first time the unhappy artist reproached his + benefactress for having rescued him from death only to make him lead the + life of a galley slave, worse than the bottomless void, where at least, + said he, he would have found rest. And he talked of flight. + </p> + <p> + “Flight!” cried Lisbeth. “Ah, Monsieur Rivet was right.” + </p> + <p> + And she clearly explained to the Pole that within twenty-four hours he + might be clapped into prison for the rest of his days. It was a crushing + blow. Steinbock sank into deep melancholy and total silence. + </p> + <p> + In the course of the following night, Lisbeth hearing overhead some + preparations for suicide, went up to her pensioner’s room, and gave him + the schedule and a formal release. + </p> + <p> + “Here, dear child, forgive me,” she said with tears in her eyes. “Be + happy; leave me! I am too cruel to you; only tell me that you will + sometimes remember the poor girl who has enabled you to make a living.—What + can I say? You are the cause of my ill-humor. I might die; where would you + be without me? That is the reason of my being impatient to see you do some + salable work. I do not want my money back for myself, I assure you! I am + only frightened at your idleness, which you call meditation; at your + ideas, which take up so many hours when you sit gazing at the sky; I want + you to get into habits of industry.” + </p> + <p> + All this was said with an emphasis, a look, and tears that moved the + high-minded artist; he clasped his benefactress to his heart and kissed + her forehead. + </p> + <p> + “Keep these pieces,” said he with a sort of cheerfulness. “Why should you + send me to Clichy? Am I not a prisoner here out of gratitude?” + </p> + <p> + This episode of their secret domestic life had occurred six months + previously, and had led to Steinbock’s producing three finished works: the + seal in Hortense’s possession, the group he had placed with the curiosity + dealer, and a beautiful clock to which he was putting the last touches, + screwing in the last rivets. + </p> + <p> + This clock represented the twelve Hours, charmingly personified by twelve + female figures whirling round in so mad and swift a dance that three + little Loves perched on a pile of fruit and flowers could not stop one of + them; only the torn skirts of Midnight remained in the hand of the most + daring cherub. The group stood on an admirably treated base, ornamented + with grotesque beasts. The hours were told by a monstrous mouth that + opened to yawn, and each Hour bore some ingeniously appropriate symbol + characteristic of the various occupations of the day. + </p> + <p> + It is now easy to understand the extraordinary attachment of Mademoiselle + Fischer for her Livonian; she wanted him to be happy, and she saw him + pining, fading away in his attic. The causes of this wretched state of + affairs may be easily imagined. The peasant woman watched this son of the + North with the affection of a mother, with the jealousy of a wife, and the + spirit of a dragon; hence she managed to put every kind of folly or + dissipation out of his power by leaving him destitute of money. She longed + to keep her victim and companion for herself alone, well conducted + perforce, and she had no conception of the cruelty of this senseless wish, + since she, for her own part, was accustomed to every privation. She loved + Steinbock well enough not to marry him, and too much to give him up to any + other woman; she could not resign herself to be no more than a mother to + him, though she saw that she was mad to think of playing the other part. + </p> + <p> + These contradictions, this ferocious jealousy, and the joy of having a man + to herself, all agitated her old maid’s heart beyond measure. Really in + love as she had been for four years, she cherished the foolish hope of + prolonging this impossible and aimless way of life in which her + persistence would only be the ruin of the man she thought of as her child. + This contest between her instincts and her reason made her unjust and + tyrannical. She wreaked on the young man her vengeance for her own lot in + being neither young, rich, nor handsome; then, after each fit of rage, + recognizing herself wrong, she stooped to unlimited humility, infinite + tenderness. She never could sacrifice to her idol till she had asserted + her power by blows of the axe. In fact, it was the converse of + Shakespeare’s <i>Tempest</i>—Caliban ruling Ariel and Prospero. + </p> + <p> + As to the poor youth himself, high-minded, meditative, and inclined to be + lazy, the desert that his protectress made in his soul might be seen in + his eyes, as in those of a caged lion. The penal servitude forced on him + by Lisbeth did not fulfil the cravings of his heart. His weariness became + a physical malady, and he was dying without daring to ask, or knowing + where to procure, the price of some little necessary dissipation. On some + days of special energy, when a feeling of utter ill-luck added to his + exasperation, he would look at Lisbeth as a thirsty traveler on a sandy + shore must look at the bitter sea-water. + </p> + <p> + These harsh fruits of indigence, and this isolation in the midst of Paris, + Lisbeth relished with delight. And besides, she foresaw that the first + passion would rob her of her slave. Sometimes she even blamed herself + because her own tyranny and reproaches had compelled the poetic youth to + become so great an artist of delicate work, and she had thus given him the + means of casting her off. + </p> + <p> + On the day after, these three lives, so differently but so utterly + wretched—that of a mother in despair, that of the Marneffe + household, and that of the unhappy exile—were all to be influenced + by Hortense’s guileless passion, and by the strange outcome of the Baron’s + luckless passion for Josepha. + </p> + <p> + Just as Hulot was going into the opera-house, he was stopped by the + darkened appearance of the building and of the Rue le Peletier, where + there were no gendarmes, no lights, no theatre-servants, no barrier to + regulate the crowd. He looked up at the announcement-board, and beheld a + strip of white paper, on which was printed the solemn notice: + </p> + <h3> + “CLOSED ON ACCOUNT OF ILLNESS.” + </h3> + <p> + He rushed off to Josepha’s lodgings in the Rue Chauchat; for, like all the + singers, she lived close at hand. + </p> + <p> + “Whom do you want, sir?” asked the porter, to the Baron’s great + astonishment. + </p> + <p> + “Have you forgotten me?” said Hulot, much puzzled. + </p> + <p> + “On the contrary, sir, it is because I have the honor to remember you that + I ask you, Where are you going?” + </p> + <p> + A mortal chill fell upon the Baron. + </p> + <p> + “What has happened?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “If you go up to Mademoiselle Mirah’s rooms, Monsieur le Baron, you will + find Mademoiselle Heloise Brisetout there—and Monsieur Bixiou, + Monsieur Leon de Lora, Monsieur Lousteau, Monsieur de Vernisset, Monsieur + Stidmann; and ladies smelling of patchouli—holding a housewarming.” + </p> + <p> + “Then, where—where is——?” + </p> + <p> + “Mademoiselle Mirah?—I don’t know that I ought to tell you.” + </p> + <p> + The Baron slipped two five-franc pieces into the porter’s hand. + </p> + <p> + “Well, she is now in the Rue de la Ville l’Eveque, in a fine house, given + to her, they say, by the Duc d’Herouville,” replied the man in a whisper. + </p> + <p> + Having ascertained the number of the house, Monsieur Hulot called a <i>milord</i> + and drove to one of those pretty modern houses with double doors, where + everything, from the gaslight at the entrance, proclaims luxury. + </p> + <p> + The Baron, in his blue cloth coat, white neckcloth, nankeen trousers, + patent leather boots, and stiffly starched shirt-frill, was supposed to be + a guest, though a late arrival, by the janitor of this new Eden. His + alacrity of manner and quick step justified this opinion. + </p> + <p> + The porter rang a bell, and a footman appeared in the hall. This man, as + new as the house, admitted the visitor, who said to him in an imperious + tone, and with a lordly gesture: + </p> + <p> + “Take in this card to Mademoiselle Josepha.” + </p> + <p> + The victim mechanically looked round the room in which he found himself—an + anteroom full of choice flowers and of furniture that must have cost + twenty thousand francs. The servant, on his return, begged monsieur to + wait in the drawing-room till the company came to their coffee. + </p> + <p> + Though the Baron had been familiar with Imperial luxury, which was + undoubtedly prodigious, while its productions, though not durable in kind, + had nevertheless cost enormous sums, he stood dazzled, dumfounded, in this + drawing-room with three windows looking out on a garden like fairyland, + one of those gardens that are created in a month with a made soil and + transplanted shrubs, while the grass seems as if it must be made to grow + by some chemical process. He admired not only the decoration, the gilding, + the carving, in the most expensive Pompadour style, as it is called, and + the magnificent brocades, all of which any enriched tradesman could have + procured for money; but he also noted such treasures as only princes can + select and find, can pay for and give away; two pictures by Greuze, two by + Watteau, two heads by Vandyck, two landscapes by Ruysdael, and two by le + Guaspre, a Rembrandt, a Holbein, a Murillo, and a Titian, two paintings, + by Teniers, and a pair by Metzu, a Van Huysum, and an Abraham Mignon—in + short, two hundred thousand francs’ worth of pictures superbly framed. The + gilding was worth almost as much as the paintings. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, ha! Now you understand, my good man?” said Josepha. + </p> + <p> + She had stolen in on tiptoe through a noiseless door, over Persian + carpets, and came upon her adorer, standing lost in amazement—in the + stupid amazement when a man’s ears tingle so loudly that he hears nothing + but that fatal knell. + </p> + <p> + The words “my good man,” spoken to an official of such high importance, so + perfectly exemplified the audacity with which these creatures pour + contempt on the loftiest, that the Baron was nailed to the spot. Josepha, + in white and yellow, was so beautifully dressed for the banquet, that amid + all this lavish magnificence she still shone like a rare jewel. + </p> + <p> + “Isn’t this really fine?” said she. “The Duke has spent all the money on + it that he got out of floating a company, of which the shares all sold at + a premium. He is no fool, is my little Duke. There is nothing like a man + who has been a grandee in his time for turning coals into gold. Just + before dinner the notary brought me the title-deeds to sign and the bills + receipted!—They are all a first-class set in there—d’Esgrignon, + Rastignac, Maxime, Lenoncourt, Verneuil, Laginski, Rochefide, la + Palferine, and from among the bankers Nucingen and du Tillet, with + Antonia, Malaga, Carabine, and la Schontz; and they all feel for you + deeply.—Yes, old boy, and they hope you will join them, but on + condition that you forthwith drink up to two bottles full of Hungarian + wine, Champagne, or Cape, just to bring you up to their mark.—My + dear fellow, we are all so much <i>on</i> here, that it was necessary to + close the Opera. The manager is as drunk as a cornet-a-piston; he is + hiccuping already.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Josepha!——” cried the Baron. + </p> + <p> + “Now, can anything be more absurd than explanations?” she broke in with a + smile. “Look here; can you stand six hundred thousand francs which this + house and furniture cost? Can you give me a bond to the tune of thirty + thousand francs a year, which is what the Duke has just given me in a + packet of common sugared almonds from the grocer’s?—a pretty notion + that——” + </p> + <p> + “What an atrocity!” cried Hulot, who in his fury would have given his + wife’s diamonds to stand in the Duc d’Herouville’s shoes for twenty-four + hours. + </p> + <p> + “Atrocity is my trade,” said she. “So that is how you take it? Well, why + don’t you float a company? Goodness me! my poor dyed Tom, you ought to be + grateful to me; I have thrown you over just when you would have spent on + me your widow’s fortune, your daughter’s portion.—What, tears! The + Empire is a thing of the past—I hail the coming Empire!” + </p> + <p> + She struck a tragic attitude, and exclaimed: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “They call you Hulot! Nay, I know you not—” + </pre> + <p> + And she went into the other room. + </p> + <p> + Through the door, left ajar, there came, like a lightning-flash, a streak + of light with an accompaniment of the crescendo of the orgy and the + fragrance of a banquet of the choicest description. + </p> + <p> + The singer peeped through the partly open door, and seeing Hulot + transfixed as if he had been a bronze image, she came one step forward + into the room. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur,” said she, “I have handed over the rubbish in the Rue Chauchat + to Bixiou’s little Heloise Brisetout. If you wish to claim your cotton + nightcap, your bootjack, your belt, and your wax dye, I have stipulated + for their return.” + </p> + <p> + This insolent banter made the Baron leave the room as precipitately as Lot + departed from Gomorrah, but he did not look back like Mrs. Lot. + </p> + <p> + Hulot went home, striding along in a fury, and talking to himself; he + found his family still playing the game of whist at two sous a point, at + which he left them. On seeing her husband return, poor Adeline imagined + something dreadful, some dishonor; she gave her cards to Hortense, and led + Hector away into the very room where, only five hours since, Crevel had + foretold her the utmost disgrace of poverty. + </p> + <p> + “What is the matter?” she said, terrified. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, forgive me—but let me tell you all these horrors.” And for ten + minutes he poured out his wrath. + </p> + <p> + “But, my dear,” said the unhappy woman, with heroic courage, “these + creatures do not know what love means—such pure and devoted love as + you deserve. How could you, so clear-sighted as you are, dream of + competing with millions?” + </p> + <p> + “Dearest Adeline!” cried the Baron, clasping her to his heart. + </p> + <p> + The Baroness’ words had shed balm on the bleeding wounds to his vanity. + </p> + <p> + “To be sure, take away the Duc d’Herouville’s fortune, and she could not + hesitate between us!” said the Baron. + </p> + <p> + “My dear,” said Adeline with a final effort, “if you positively must have + mistresses, why do you not seek them, like Crevel, among women who are + less extravagant, and of a class that can for a time be content with + little? We should all gain by that arrangement.—I understand your + need—but I do not understand that vanity——” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, what a kind and perfect wife you are!” cried he. “I am an old + lunatic, I do not deserve to have such a wife!” + </p> + <p> + “I am simply the Josephine of my Napoleon,” she replied, with a touch of + melancholy. + </p> + <p> + “Josephine was not to compare with you!” said he. “Come; I will play a + game of whist with my brother and the children. I must try my hand at the + business of a family man; I must get Hortense a husband, and bury the + libertine.” + </p> + <p> + His frankness so greatly touched poor Adeline, that she said: + </p> + <p> + “The creature has no taste to prefer any man in the world to my Hector. + Oh, I would not give you up for all the gold on earth. How can any woman + throw you over who is so happy as to be loved by you?” + </p> + <p> + The look with which the Baron rewarded his wife’s fanaticism confirmed her + in her opinion that gentleness and docility were a woman’s strongest + weapons. + </p> + <p> + But in this she was mistaken. The noblest sentiments, carried to an + excess, can produce mischief as great as do the worst vices. Bonaparte was + made Emperor for having fired on the people, at a stone’s throw from the + spot where Louis XVI. lost his throne and his head because he would not + allow a certain Monsieur Sauce to be hurt. + </p> + <p> + On the following morning, Hortense, who had slept with the seal under her + pillow, so as to have it close to her all night, dressed very early, and + sent to beg her father to join her in the garden as soon as he should be + down. + </p> + <p> + By about half-past nine, the father, acceding to his daughter’s petition, + gave her his arm for a walk, and they went along the quays by the Pont + Royal to the Place du Carrousel. + </p> + <p> + “Let us look into the shop windows, papa,” said Hortense, as they went + through the little gate to cross the wide square. + </p> + <p> + “What—here?” said her father, laughing at her. + </p> + <p> + “We are supposed to have come to see the pictures, and over there”—and + she pointed to the stalls in front of the houses at a right angle to the + Rue du Doyenne—“look! there are dealers in curiosities and pictures——” + </p> + <p> + “Your cousin lives there.” + </p> + <p> + “I know it, but she must not see us.” + </p> + <p> + “And what do you want to do?” said the Baron, who, finding himself within + thirty yards of Madame Marneffe’s windows, suddenly remembered her. + </p> + <p> + Hortense had dragged her father in front of one of the shops forming the + angle of a block of houses built along the front of the Old Louvre, and + facing the Hotel de Nantes. She went into this shop; her father stood + outside, absorbed in gazing at the windows of the pretty little lady, who, + the evening before, had left her image stamped on the old beau’s heart, as + if to alleviate the wound he was so soon to receive; and he could not help + putting his wife’s sage advice into practice. + </p> + <p> + “I will fall back on a simple little citizen’s wife,” said he to himself, + recalling Madame Marneffe’s adorable graces. “Such a woman as that will + soon make me forget that grasping Josepha.” + </p> + <p> + Now, this was what was happening at the same moment outside and inside the + curiosity shop. + </p> + <p> + As he fixed his eyes on the windows of his new <i>belle</i>, the Baron saw + the husband, who, while brushing his coat with his own hands, was + apparently on the lookout, expecting to see some one on the square. + Fearing lest he should be seen, and subsequently recognized, the amorous + Baron turned his back on the Rue du Doyenne, or rather stood at + three-quarters’ face, as it were, so as to be able to glance round from + time to time. This manoeuvre brought him face to face with Madame + Marneffe, who, coming up from the quay, was doubling the promontory of + houses to go home. + </p> + <p> + Valerie was evidently startled as she met the Baron’s astonished eye, and + she responded with a prudish dropping of her eyelids. + </p> + <p> + “A pretty woman,” exclaimed he, “for whom a man would do many foolish + things.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed, monsieur?” said she, turning suddenly, like a woman who has just + come to some vehement decision, “you are Monsieur le Baron Hulot, I + believe?” + </p> + <p> + The Baron, more and more bewildered, bowed assent. + </p> + <p> + “Then, as chance has twice made our eyes meet, and I am so fortunate as to + have interested or puzzled you, I may tell you that, instead of doing + anything foolish, you ought to do justice.—My husband’s fate rests + with you.” + </p> + <p> + “And how may that be?” asked the gallant Baron. + </p> + <p> + “He is employed in your department in the War Office, under Monsieur + Lebrun, in Monsieur Coquet’s room,” said she with a smile. + </p> + <p> + “I am quite disposed, Madame—Madame——?” + </p> + <p> + “Madame Marneffe.” + </p> + <p> + “Dear little Madame Marneffe, to do injustice for your sake.—I have + a cousin living in your house; I will go to see her one day soon—as + soon as possible; bring your petition to me in her rooms.” + </p> + <p> + “Pardon my boldness, Monsieur le Baron; you must understand that if I dare + to address you thus, it is because I have no friend to protect me——” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, ha!” + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur, you misunderstand me,” said she, lowering her eyelids. + </p> + <p> + Hulot felt as if the sun had disappeared. + </p> + <p> + “I am at my wits’ end, but I am an honest woman!” she went on. “About six + months ago my only protector died, Marshal Montcornet—” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! You are his daughter?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, monsieur; but he never acknowledged me.” + </p> + <p> + “That was that he might leave you part of his fortune.” + </p> + <p> + “He left me nothing; he made no will.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed! Poor little woman! The Marshal died suddenly of apoplexy. But, + come, madame, hope for the best. The State must do something for the + daughter of one of the Chevalier Bayards of the Empire.” + </p> + <p> + Madame Marneffe bowed gracefully and went off, as proud of her success as + the Baron was of his. + </p> + <p> + “Where the devil has she been so early?” thought he watching the flow of + her skirts, to which she contrived to impart a somewhat exaggerated grace. + “She looks too tired to have just come from a bath, and her husband is + waiting for her. It is strange, and puzzles me altogether.” + </p> + <p> + Madame Marneffe having vanished within, the Baron wondered what his + daughter was doing in the shop. As he went in, still staring at Madame + Marneffe’s windows, he ran against a young man with a pale brow and + sparkling gray eyes, wearing a summer coat of black merino, coarse drill + trousers, and tan shoes, with gaiters, rushing away headlong; he saw him + run to the house in the Rue du Doyenne, into which he went. + </p> + <p> + Hortense, on going into the shop, had at once recognized the famous group, + conspicuously placed on a table in the middle and in front of the door. + Even without the circumstances to which she owed her knowledge of this + masterpiece, it would probably have struck her by the peculiar power which + we must call the <i>brio</i>—the <i>go</i>—of great works; and + the girl herself might in Italy have been taken as a model for the + personification of <i>Brio</i>. + </p> + <p> + Not every work by a man of genius has in the same degree that brilliancy, + that glory which is at once patent even to the most ignoble beholder. + Thus, certain pictures by Raphael, such as the famous <i>Transfiguration</i>, + the <i>Madonna di Foligno</i>, and the frescoes of the <i>Stanze</i> in + the Vatican, do not at first captivate our admiration, as do the <i>Violin-player</i> + in the Sciarra Palace, the portraits of the Doria family, and the <i>Vision + of Ezekiel</i> in the Pitti Gallery, the <i>Christ bearing His Cross</i> + in the Borghese collection, and the <i>Marriage of the Virgin</i> in the + Brera at Milan. The <i>Saint John the Baptist</i> of the Tribuna, and <i>Saint + Luke painting the Virgin’s portrait</i> in the Accademia at Rome, have not + the charm of the <i>Portrait of Leo X.</i>, and of the <i>Virgin</i> at + Dresden. + </p> + <p> + And yet they are all of equal merit. Nay, more. The <i>Stanze</i>, the <i>Transfiguration</i>, + the panels, and the three easel pictures in the Vatican are in the highest + degree perfect and sublime. But they demand a stress of attention, even + from the most accomplished beholder, and serious study, to be fully + understood; while the <i>Violin-player</i>, the <i>Marriage of the Virgin</i>, + and the <i>Vision of Ezekiel</i> go straight to the heart through the + portal of sight, and make their home there. It is a pleasure to receive + them thus without an effort; if it is not the highest phase of art, it is + the happiest. This fact proves that, in the begetting of works of art, + there is as much chance in the character of the offspring as there is in a + family of children; that some will be happily graced, born beautiful, and + costing their mothers little suffering, creatures on whom everything + smiles, and with whom everything succeeds; in short, genius, like love, + has its fairer blossoms. + </p> + <p> + This <i>brio</i>, an Italian word which the French have begun to use, is + characteristic of youthful work. It is the fruit of an impetus and fire of + early talent—an impetus which is met with again later in some happy + hours; but this particular <i>brio</i> no longer comes from the artist’s + heart; instead of his flinging it into his work as a volcano flings up its + fires, it comes to him from outside, inspired by circumstances, by love, + or rivalry, often by hatred, and more often still by the imperious need of + glory to be lived up to. + </p> + <p> + This group by Wenceslas was to his later works what the <i>Marriage of the + Virgin</i> is to the great mass of Raphael’s, the first step of a gifted + artist taken with the inimitable grace, the eagerness, and delightful + overflowingness of a child, whose strength is concealed under the + pink-and-white flesh full of dimples which seem to echo to a mother’s + laughter. Prince Eugene is said to have paid four hundred thousand francs + for this picture, which would be worth a million to any nation that owned + no picture by Raphael, but no one would give that sum for the finest of + the frescoes, though their value is far greater as works of art. + </p> + <p> + Hortense restrained her admiration, for she reflected on the amount of her + girlish savings; she assumed an air of indifference, and said to the + dealer: + </p> + <p> + “What is the price of that?” + </p> + <p> + “Fifteen hundred francs,” replied the man, sending a glance of + intelligence to a young man seated on a stool in the corner. + </p> + <p> + The young man himself gazed in a stupefaction at Monsieur Hulot’s living + masterpiece. Hortense, forewarned, at once identified him as the artist, + from the color that flushed a face pale with endurance; she saw the spark + lighted up in his gray eyes by her question; she looked on the thin, drawn + features, like those of a monk consumed by asceticism; she loved the red, + well-formed mouth, the delicate chin, and the Pole’s silky chestnut hair. + </p> + <p> + “If it were twelve hundred,” said she, “I would beg you to send it to me.” + </p> + <p> + “It is antique, mademoiselle,” the dealer remarked, thinking, like all his + fraternity, that, having uttered this <i>ne plus ultra</i> of bric-a-brac, + there was no more to be said. + </p> + <p> + “Excuse me, monsieur,” she replied very quietly, “it was made this year; I + came expressly to beg you, if my price is accepted, to send the artist to + see us, as it might be possible to procure him some important + commissions.” + </p> + <p> + “And if he is to have the twelve hundred francs, what am I to get? I am + the dealer,” said the man, with candid good-humor. + </p> + <p> + “To be sure!” replied the girl, with a slight curl of disdain. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! mademoiselle, take it; I will make terms with the dealer,” cried the + Livonian, beside himself. + </p> + <p> + Fascinated by Hortense’s wonderful beauty and the love of art she + displayed, he added: + </p> + <p> + “I am the sculptor of the group, and for ten days I have come here three + times a day to see if anybody would recognize its merit and bargain for + it. You are my first admirer—take it!” + </p> + <p> + “Come, then, monsieur, with the dealer, an hour hence.—Here is my + father’s card,” replied Hortense. + </p> + <p> + Then, seeing the shopkeeper go into a back room to wrap the group in a + piece of linen rag, she added in a low voice, to the great astonishment of + the artist, who thought he must be dreaming: + </p> + <p> + “For the benefit of your future prospects, Monsieur Wenceslas, do not + mention the name of the purchaser to Mademoiselle Fischer, for she is our + cousin.” + </p> + <p> + The word cousin dazzled the artist’s mind; he had a glimpse of Paradise + whence this daughter of Eve had come to him. He had dreamed of the + beautiful girl of whom Lisbeth had told him, as Hortense had dreamed of + her cousin’s lover; and, as she had entered the shop— + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” thought he, “if she could but be like this!” + </p> + <p> + The look that passed between the lovers may be imagined; it was a flame, + for virtuous lovers have no hypocrisies. + </p> + <p> + “Well, what the deuce are you doing here?” her father asked her. + </p> + <p> + “I have been spending twelve hundred francs that I had saved. Come.” And + she took her father’s arm. + </p> + <p> + “Twelve hundred francs?” he repeated. + </p> + <p> + “To be exact, thirteen hundred; you will lend me the odd hundred?” + </p> + <p> + “And on what, in such a place, could you spend so much?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! that is the question!” replied the happy girl. “If I have got a + husband, he is not dear at the money.” + </p> + <p> + “A husband! In that shop, my child?” + </p> + <p> + “Listen, dear little father; would you forbid my marrying a great artist?” + </p> + <p> + “No, my dear. A great artist in these days is a prince without a title—he + has glory and fortune, the two chief social advantages—next to + virtue,” he added, in a smug tone. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, of course!” said Hortense. “And what do you think of sculpture?” + </p> + <p> + “It is very poor business,” replied Hulot, shaking his head. “It needs + high patronage as well as great talent, for Government is the only + purchaser. It is an art with no demand nowadays, where there are no + princely houses, no great fortunes, no entailed mansions, no hereditary + estates. Only small pictures and small figures can find a place; the arts + are endangered by this need of small things.” + </p> + <p> + “But if a great artist could find a demand?” said Hortense. + </p> + <p> + “That indeed would solve the problem.” + </p> + <p> + “Or had some one to back him?” + </p> + <p> + “That would be even better.” + </p> + <p> + “If he were of noble birth?” + </p> + <p> + “Pooh!” + </p> + <p> + “A Count.” + </p> + <p> + “And a sculptor?” + </p> + <p> + “He has no money.” + </p> + <p> + “And so he counts on that of Mademoiselle Hortense Hulot?” said the Baron + ironically, with an inquisitorial look into his daughter’s eyes. + </p> + <p> + “This great artist, a Count and a sculptor, has just seen your daughter + for the first time in his life, and for the space of five minutes, + Monsieur le Baron,” Hortense calmly replied. “Yesterday, you must know, + dear little father, while you were at the Chamber, mamma had a fainting + fit. This, which she ascribed to a nervous attack, was the result of some + worry that had to do with the failure of my marriage, for she told me that + to get rid of me—-” + </p> + <p> + “She is too fond of you to have used an expression——” + </p> + <p> + “So unparliamentary!” Hortense put in with a laugh. “No, she did not use + those words; but I know that a girl old enough to marry and who does not + find a husband is a heavy cross for respectable parents to bear.—Well, + she thinks that if a man of energy and talent could be found, who would be + satisfied with thirty thousand francs for my marriage portion, we might + all be happy. In fact, she thought it advisable to prepare me for the + modesty of my future lot, and to hinder me from indulging in too fervid + dreams.—Which evidently meant an end to the intended marriage, and + no settlements for me!” + </p> + <p> + “Your mother is a very good woman, noble, admirable!” replied the father, + deeply humiliated, though not sorry to hear this confession. + </p> + <p> + “She told me yesterday that she had your permission to sell her diamonds + so as to give me something to marry on; but I should like her to keep her + jewels, and to find a husband myself. I think I have found the man, the + possible husband, answering to mamma’s prospectus——” + </p> + <p> + “There?—in the Place du Carrousel?—and in one morning?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, papa, the mischief lies deeper!” said she archly. + </p> + <p> + “Well, come, my child, tell the whole story to your good old father,” said + he persuasively, and concealing his uneasiness. + </p> + <p> + Under promise of absolute secrecy, Hortense repeated the upshot of her + various conversations with her Cousin Betty. Then, when they got home, she + showed the much-talked-of-seal to her father in evidence of the sagacity + of her views. The father, in the depth of his heart, wondered at the skill + and acumen of girls who act on instinct, discerning the simplicity of the + scheme which her idealized love had suggested in the course of a single + night to his guileless daughter. + </p> + <p> + “You will see the masterpiece I have just bought; it is to be brought + home, and that dear Wenceslas is to come with the dealer.—The man + who made that group ought to make a fortune; only use your influence to + get him an order for a statue, and rooms at the Institut——” + </p> + <p> + “How you run on!” cried her father. “Why, if you had your own way, you + would be man and wife within the legal period—in eleven days——” + </p> + <p> + “Must we wait so long?” said she, laughing. “But I fell in love with him + in five minutes, as you fell in love with mamma at first sight. And he + loves me as if we had known each other for two years. Yes,” she said in + reply to her father’s look, “I read ten volumes of love in his eyes. And + will not you and mamma accept him as my husband when you see that he is a + man of genius? Sculpture is the greatest of the Arts,” she cried, clapping + her hands and jumping. “I will tell you everything——” + </p> + <p> + “What, is there more to come?” asked her father, smiling. + </p> + <p> + The child’s complete and effervescent innocence had restored her father’s + peace of mind. + </p> + <p> + “A confession of the first importance,” said she. “I loved him without + knowing him; and, for the last hour, since seeing him, I am crazy about + him.” + </p> + <p> + “A little too crazy!” said the Baron, who was enjoying the sight of this + guileless passion. + </p> + <p> + “Do not punish me for confiding in you,” replied she. “It is so delightful + to say to my father’s heart, ‘I love him! I am so happy in loving him!’—You + will see my Wenceslas! His brow is so sad. The sun of genius shines in his + gray eyes—and what an air he has! What do you think of Livonia? Is + it a fine country?—The idea of Cousin Betty’s marrying that young + fellow! She might be his mother. It would be murder! I am quite jealous of + all she has ever done for him. But I don’t think my marriage will please + her.” + </p> + <p> + “See, my darling, we must hide nothing from your mother.” + </p> + <p> + “I should have to show her the seal, and I promised not to betray Cousin + Lisbeth, who is afraid, she says, of mamma’s laughing at her,” said + Hortense. + </p> + <p> + “You have scruples about the seal, and none about robbing your cousin of + her lover.” + </p> + <p> + “I promised about the seal—I made no promise about the sculptor.” + </p> + <p> + This adventure, patriarchal in its simplicity, came admirably <i>a propos</i> + to the unconfessed poverty of the family; the Baron, while praising his + daughter for her candor, explained to her that she must now leave matters + to the discretion of her parents. + </p> + <p> + “You understand, my child, that it is not your part to ascertain whether + your cousin’s lover is a Count, if he has all his papers properly + certified, and if his conduct is a guarantee for his respectability.—As + for your cousin, she refused five offers when she was twenty years + younger; that will prove no obstacle, I undertake to say.” + </p> + <p> + “Listen to me, papa; if you really wish to see me married, never say a + word to Lisbeth about it till just before the contract is signed. I have + been catechizing her about this business for the last six months! Well, + there is something about her quite inexplicable——” + </p> + <p> + “What?” said her father, puzzled. + </p> + <p> + “Well, she looks evil when I say too much, even in joke, about her lover. + Make inquiries, but leave me to row my own boat. My confidence ought to + reassure you.” + </p> + <p> + “The Lord said, ‘Suffer little children to come unto Me.’ You are one of + those who have come back again,” replied the Baron with a touch of irony. + </p> + <p> + After breakfast the dealer was announced, and the artist with his group. + The sudden flush that reddened her daughter’s face at once made the + Baroness suspicious and then watchful, and the girl’s confusion and the + light in her eyes soon betrayed the mystery so badly guarded in her simple + heart. + </p> + <p> + Count Steinbock, dressed in black, struck the Baron as a very gentlemanly + young man. + </p> + <p> + “Would you undertake a bronze statue?” he asked, as he held up the group. + </p> + <p> + After admiring it on trust, he passed it on to his wife, who knew nothing + about sculpture. + </p> + <p> + “It is beautiful, isn’t it, mamma?” said Hortense in her mother’ ear. + </p> + <p> + “A statue! Monsieur, it is less difficult to execute a statue than to make + a clock like this, which my friend here has been kind enough to bring,” + said the artist in reply. + </p> + <p> + The dealer was placing on the dining-room sideboard the wax model of the + twelve Hours that the Loves were trying to delay. + </p> + <p> + “Leave the clock with me,” said the Baron, astounded at the beauty of the + sketch. “I should like to show it to the Ministers of the Interior and of + Commerce.” + </p> + <p> + “Who is the young man in whom you take so much interest?” the Baroness + asked her daughter. + </p> + <p> + “An artist who could afford to execute this model could get a hundred + thousand francs for it,” said the curiosity-dealer, putting on a knowing + and mysterious look as he saw that the artist and the girl were + interchanging glances. “He would only need to sell twenty copies at eight + thousand francs each—for the materials would cost about a thousand + crowns for each example. But if each copy were numbered and the mould + destroyed, it would certainly be possible to meet with twenty amateurs + only too glad to possess a replica of such a work.” + </p> + <p> + “A hundred thousand francs!” cried Steinbock, looking from the dealer to + Hortense, the Baron, and the Baroness. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, a hundred thousand francs,” repeated the dealer. “If I were rich + enough, I would buy it of you myself for twenty thousand francs; for by + destroying the mould it would become a valuable property. But one of the + princes ought to pay thirty or forty thousand francs for such a work to + ornament his drawing-room. No man has ever succeeded in making a clock + satisfactory alike to the vulgar and to the connoisseur, and this one, + sir, solves the difficulty.” + </p> + <p> + “This is for yourself, monsieur,” said Hortense, giving six gold pieces to + the dealer. + </p> + <p> + “Never breath a word of this visit to any one living,” said the artist to + his friend, at the door. “If you should be asked where we sold the group, + mention the Duc d’Herouville, the famous collector in the Rue de Varenne.” + </p> + <p> + The dealer nodded assent. + </p> + <p> + “And your name?” said Hulot to the artist when he came back. + </p> + <p> + “Count Steinbock.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you the papers that prove your identity?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Monsieur le Baron. They are in Russian and in German, but not + legalized.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you feel equal to undertaking a statue nine feet high?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, monsieur.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, if the persons whom I shall consult are satisfied with your + work, I can secure you the commission for the statue of Marshal + Montcornet, which is to be erected on his monument at Pere-Lachaise. The + Minister of War and the old officers of the Imperial Guard have subscribed + a sum large enough to enable us to select our artist.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, monsieur, it will make my fortune!” exclaimed Steinbock, overpowered + by so much happiness at once. + </p> + <p> + “Be easy,” replied the Baron graciously. “If the two ministers to whom I + propose to show your group and this sketch in wax are delighted with these + two pieces, your prospects of a fortune are good.” + </p> + <p> + Hortense hugged her father’s arm so tightly as to hurt him. + </p> + <p> + “Bring me your papers, and say nothing of your hopes to anybody, not even + to our old Cousin Betty.” + </p> + <p> + “Lisbeth?” said Madame Hulot, at last understanding the end of all this, + though unable to guess the means. + </p> + <p> + “I could give proof of my skill by making a bust of the Baroness,” added + Wenceslas. + </p> + <p> + The artist, struck by Madame Hulot’s beauty, was comparing the mother and + daughter. + </p> + <p> + “Indeed, monsieur, life may smile upon you,” said the Baron, quite charmed + by Count Steinbock’s refined and elegant manner. “You will find out that + in Paris no man is clever for nothing, and that persevering toil always + finds its reward here.” + </p> + <p> + Hortense, with a blush, held out to the young man a pretty Algerine purse + containing sixty gold pieces. The artist, with something still of a + gentleman’s pride, responded with a mounting color easy enough to + interpret. + </p> + <p> + “This, perhaps, is the first money your works have brought you?” said + Adeline. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, madame—my works of art. It is not the first-fruits of my + labor, for I have been a workman.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, we must hope my daughter’s money will bring you good luck,” said + she. + </p> + <p> + “And take it without scruple,” added the Baron, seeing that Wenceslas held + the purse in his hand instead of pocketing it. “The sum will be repaid by + some rich man, a prince perhaps, who will offer it with interest to + possess so fine a work.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I want it too much myself, papa, to give it up to anybody in the + world, even a royal prince!” + </p> + <p> + “I can make a far prettier thing than that for you, mademoiselle.” + </p> + <p> + “But it would not be this one,” replied she; and then, as if ashamed of + having said too much, she ran out into the garden. + </p> + <p> + “Then I shall break the mould and the model as soon as I go home,” said + Steinbock. + </p> + <p> + “Fetch me your papers, and you will hear of me before long, if you are + equal to what I expect of you, monsieur.” + </p> + <p> + The artist on this could but take leave. After bowing to Madame Hulot and + Hortense, who came in from the garden on purpose, he went off to walk in + the Tuileries, not bearing—not daring—to return to his attic, + where his tyrant would pelt him with questions and wring his secret from + him. + </p> + <p> + Hortense’s adorer conceived of groups and statues by the hundred; he felt + strong enough to hew the marble himself, like Canova, who was also a + feeble man, and nearly died of it. He was transfigured by Hortense, who + was to him inspiration made visible. + </p> + <p> + “Now then,” said the Baroness to her daughter, “what does all this mean?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, dear mamma, you have just seen Cousin Lisbeth’s lover, who now, I + hope, is mine. But shut your eyes, know nothing. Good Heavens! I was to + keep it all from you, and I cannot help telling you everything——” + </p> + <p> + “Good-bye, children!” said the Baron, kissing his wife and daughter; “I + shall perhaps go to call on the Nanny, and from her I shall hear a great + deal about our young man.” + </p> + <p> + “Papa, be cautious!” said Hortense. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! little girl!” cried the Baroness when Hortense had poured out her + poem, of which the morning’s adventure was the last canto, “dear little + girl, Artlessness will always be the artfulest puss on earth!” + </p> + <p> + Genuine passions have an unerring instinct. Set a greedy man before a dish + of fruit and he will make no mistake, but take the choicest even without + seeing it. In the same way, if you allow a girl who is well brought up to + choose a husband for herself, if she is in a position to meet the man of + her heart, rarely will she blunder. The act of nature in such cases is + known as love at first sight; and in love, first sight is practically + second sight. + </p> + <p> + The Baroness’ satisfaction, though disguised under maternal dignity, was + as great as her daughter’s; for, of the three ways of marrying Hortense of + which Crevel had spoken, the best, as she opined, was about to be + realized. And she regarded this little drama as an answer by Providence to + her fervent prayers. + </p> + <p> + Mademoiselle Fischer’s galley slave, obliged at last to go home, thought + he might hide his joy as a lover under his glee as an artist rejoicing + over his first success. + </p> + <p> + “Victory! my group is sold to the Duc d’Herouville, who is going to give + me some commissions,” cried he, throwing the twelve hundred francs in gold + on the table before the old maid. + </p> + <p> + He had, as may be supposed concealed Hortense’s purse; it lay next to his + heart. + </p> + <p> + “And a very good thing too,” said Lisbeth. “I was working myself to death. + You see, child, money comes in slowly in the business you have taken up, + for this is the first you have earned, and you have been grinding at it + for near on five years now. That money barely repays me for what you have + cost me since I took your promissory note; that is all I have got by my + savings. But be sure of one thing,” she said, after counting the gold, + “this money will all be spent on you. There is enough there to keep us + going for a year. In a year you may now be able to pay your debt and have + a snug little sum of your own, if you go on in the same way.” + </p> + <p> + Wenceslas, finding his trick successful, expatiated on the Duc + d’Herouville. + </p> + <p> + “I will fit you out in a black suit, and get you some new linen,” said + Lisbeth, “for you must appear presentably before your patrons; and then + you must have a larger and better apartment than your horrible garret, and + furnish it property.—You look so bright, you are not like the same + creature,” she added, gazing at Wenceslas. + </p> + <p> + “But my work is pronounced a masterpiece.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, so much the better! Do some more,” said the arid creature, who was + nothing but practical, and incapable of understanding the joy of triumph + or of beauty in Art. “Trouble your head no further about what you have + sold; make something else to sell. You have spent two hundred francs in + money, to say nothing of your time and your labor, on that devil of a <i>Samson</i>. + Your clock will cost you more than two thousand francs to execute. I tell + you what, if you will listen to me, you will finish the two little boys + crowning the little girl with cornflowers; that would just suit the + Parisians.—I will go round to Monsieur Graff the tailor before going + to Monsieur Crevel.—Go up now and leave me to dress.” + </p> + <p> + Next day the Baron, perfectly crazy about Madame Marneffe, went to see + Cousin Betty, who was considerably amazed on opening the door to see who + her visitor was, for he had never called on her before. She at once said + to herself, “Can it be that Hortense wants my lover?”—for she had + heard the evening before, at Monsieur Crevel’s, that the marriage with the + Councillor of the Supreme Court was broken off. + </p> + <p> + “What, Cousin! you here? This is the first time you have ever been to see + me, and it is certainly not for love of my fine eyes that you have come + now.” + </p> + <p> + “Fine eyes is the truth,” said the Baron; “you have as fine eyes as I have + ever seen——” + </p> + <p> + “Come, what are you here for? I really am ashamed to receive you in such a + kennel.” + </p> + <p> + The outer room of the two inhabited by Lisbeth served her as sitting-room, + dining-room, kitchen, and workroom. The furniture was such as beseemed a + well-to-do artisan—walnut-wood chairs with straw seats, a small + walnut-wood dining table, a work table, some colored prints in black + wooden frames, short muslin curtains to the windows, the floor well + polished and shining with cleanliness, not a speck of dust anywhere, but + all cold and dingy, like a picture by Terburg in every particular, even to + the gray tone given by a wall paper once blue and now faded to gray. As to + the bedroom, no human being had ever penetrated its secrets. + </p> + <p> + The Baron took it all in at a glance, saw the sign-manual of commonness on + every detail, from the cast-iron stove to the household utensils, and his + gorge rose as he said to himself, “And <i>this</i> is virtue!—What + am I here for?” said he aloud. “You are far too cunning not to guess, and + I had better tell you plainly,” cried he, sitting down and looking out + across the courtyard through an opening he made in the puckered curtain. + “There is a very pretty woman in the house——” + </p> + <p> + “Madame Marneffe! Now I understand!” she exclaimed, seeing it all. “But + Josepha?” + </p> + <p> + “Alas, Cousin, Josepha is no more. I was turned out of doors like a + discarded footman.” + </p> + <p> + “And you would like...?” said Lisbeth, looking at the Baron with the + dignity of a prude on her guard a quarter of an hour too soon. + </p> + <p> + “As Madame Marneffe is very much the lady, and the wife of an employe, you + can meet her without compromising yourself,” the Baron went on, “and I + should like to see you neighborly. Oh! you need not be alarmed; she will + have the greatest consideration for the cousin of her husband’s chief.” + </p> + <p> + At this moment the rustle of a gown was heard on the stairs and the + footstep of a woman wearing the thinnest boots. The sound ceased on the + landing. There was a tap at the door, and Madame Marneffe came in. + </p> + <p> + “Pray excuse me, mademoiselle, for thus intruding upon you, but I failed + to find you yesterday when I came to call; we are near neighbors; and if I + had known that you were related to Monsieur le Baron, I should long since + have craved your kind interest with him. I saw him come in, so I took the + liberty of coming across; for my husband, Monsieur le Baron, spoke to me + of a report on the office clerks which is to be laid before the minister + to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + She seemed quite agitated and nervous—but she had only run upstairs. + </p> + <p> + “You have no need to play the petitioner, fair lady,” replied the Baron. + “It is I who should ask the favor of seeing you.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well, if mademoiselle allows it, pray come!” said Madame Marneffe. + </p> + <p> + “Yes—go, Cousin, I will join you,” said Lisbeth judiciously. + </p> + <p> + The Parisienne had so confidently counted on the chief’s visit and + intelligence, that not only had she dressed herself for so important an + interview—she had dressed her room. Early in the day it had been + furnished with flowers purchased on credit. Marneffe had helped his wife + to polish the furniture, down to the smallest objects, washing, brushing, + and dusting everything. Valerie wished to be found in an atmosphere of + sweetness, to attract the chief and to please him enough to have a right + to be cruel; to tantalize him as a child would, with all the tricks of + fashionable tactics. She had gauged Hulot. Give a Paris woman at bay + four-and-twenty hours, and she will overthrow a ministry. + </p> + <p> + The man of the Empire, accustomed to the ways to the Empire, was no doubt + quite ignorant of the ways of modern love-making, of the scruples in vogue + and the various styles of conversation invented since 1830, which led to + the poor weak woman being regarded as the victim of her lover’s desires—a + Sister of Charity salving a wound, an angel sacrificing herself. + </p> + <p> + This modern art of love uses a vast amount of evangelical phrases in the + service of the Devil. Passion is martyrdom. Both parties aspire to the + Ideal, to the Infinite; love is to make them so much better. All these + fine words are but a pretext for putting increased ardor into the + practical side of it, more frenzy into a fall than of old. This hypocrisy, + a characteristic of the times, is a gangrene in gallantry. The lovers are + both angels, and they behave, if they can, like two devils. + </p> + <p> + Love had no time for such subtle analysis between two campaigns, and in + 1809 its successes were as rapid as those of the Empire. So, under the + Restoration, the handsome Baron, a lady’s man once more, had begun by + consoling some old friends now fallen from the political firmament, like + extinguished stars, and then, as he grew old, was captured by Jenny Cadine + and Josepha. + </p> + <p> + Madame Marneffe had placed her batteries after due study of the Baron’s + past life, which her husband had narrated in much detail, after picking up + some information in the offices. The comedy of modern sentiment might have + the charm of novelty to the Baron; Valerie had made up her mind as to her + scheme; and we may say the trial of her power that she made this morning + answered her highest expectations. Thanks to her manoeuvres, sentimental, + high-flown, and romantic, Valerie, without committing herself to any + promises, obtained for her husband the appointment as deputy head of the + office and the Cross of the Legion of Honor. + </p> + <p> + The campaign was not carried out without little dinners at the <i>Rocher + de Cancale</i>, parties to the play, and gifts in the form of lace, + scarves, gowns, and jewelry. The apartment in the Rue du Doyenne was not + satisfactory; the Baron proposed to furnish another magnificently in a + charming new house in the Rue Vanneau. + </p> + <p> + Monsieur Marneffe got a fortnight’s leave, to be taken a month hence for + urgent private affairs in the country, and a present in money; he promised + himself that he would spend both in a little town in Switzerland, studying + the fair sex. + </p> + <p> + While Monsieur Hulot thus devoted himself to the lady he was “protecting,” + he did not forget the young artist. Comte Popinot, Minister of Commerce, + was a patron of Art; he paid two thousand francs for a copy of the <i>Samson</i> + on condition that the mould should be broken, and that there should be no + <i>Samson</i> but his and Mademoiselle Hulot’s. The group was admired by a + Prince, to whom the model sketch for the clock was also shown, and who + ordered it; but that again was to be unique, and he offered thirty + thousand francs for it. + </p> + <p> + Artists who were consulted, and among them Stidmann, were of opinion that + the man who had sketched those two models was capable of achieving a + statue. The Marshal Prince de Wissembourg, Minister of War, and President + of the Committee for the subscriptions to the monument of Marshal + Montcornet, called a meeting, at which it was decided that the execution + of the work should be placed in Steinbock’s hands. The Comte de Rastignac, + at that time Under-secretary of State, wished to possess a work by the + artist, whose glory was waxing amid the acclamations of his rivals. + Steinbock sold to him the charming group of two little boys crowning a + little girl, and he promised to secure for the sculptor a studio attached + to the Government marble-quarries, situated, as all the world knows, at Le + Gros-Caillou. + </p> + <p> + This was a success, such success as is won in Paris, that is to say, + stupendous success, that crushes those whose shoulders and loins are not + strong enough to bear it—as, be it said, not unfrequently is the + case. Count Wenceslas Steinbock was written about in all the newspapers + and reviews without his having the least suspicion of it, any more than + had Mademoiselle Fischer. Every day, as soon as Lisbeth had gone out to + dinner, Wenceslas went to the Baroness’ and spent an hour or two there, + excepting on the evenings when Lisbeth dined with the Hulots. + </p> + <p> + This state of things lasted for several days. + </p> + <p> + The Baron, assured of Count Steinbock’s titles and position; the Baroness, + pleased with his character and habits; Hortense, proud of her permitted + love and of her suitor’s fame, none of them hesitated to speak of the + marriage; in short, the artist was in the seventh heaven, when an + indiscretion on Madame Marneffe’s part spoilt all. + </p> + <p> + And this was how. + </p> + <p> + Lisbeth, whom the Baron wished to see intimate with Madame Marneffe, that + she might keep an eye on the couple, had already dined with Valerie; and + she, on her part, anxious to have an ear in the Hulot house, made much of + the old maid. It occurred to Valerie to invite Mademoiselle Fischer to a + house-warming in the new apartments she was about to move into. Lisbeth, + glad to have found another house to dine in, and bewitched by Madame + Marneffe, had taken a great fancy to Valerie. Of all the persons she had + made acquaintance with, no one had taken so much pains to please her. In + fact, Madame Marneffe, full of attentions for Mademoiselle Fischer, found + herself in the position towards Lisbeth that Lisbeth held towards the + Baroness, Monsieur Rivet, Crevel, and the others who invited her to + dinner. + </p> + <p> + The Marneffes had excited Lisbeth’s compassion by allowing her to see the + extreme poverty of the house, while varnishing it as usual with the + fairest colors; their friends were under obligations to them and + ungrateful; they had had much illness; Madame Fortin, her mother, had + never known of their distress, and had died believing herself wealthy to + the end, thanks to their superhuman efforts—and so forth. + </p> + <p> + “Poor people!” said she to her Cousin Hulot, “you are right to do what you + can for them; they are so brave and so kind! They can hardly live on the + thousand crowns he gets as deputy-head of the office, for they have got + into debt since Marshal Montcornet’s death. It is barbarity on the part of + the Government to suppose that a clerk with a wife and family can live in + Paris on two thousand four hundred francs a year.” + </p> + <p> + And so, within a very short time, a young woman who affected regard for + her, who told her everything, and consulted her, who flattered her, and + seemed ready to yield to her guidance, had become dearer to the eccentric + Cousin Lisbeth than all her relations. + </p> + <p> + The Baron, on his part, admiring in Madame Marneffe such propriety, + education, and breeding as neither Jenny Cadine nor Josepha, nor any + friend of theirs had to show, had fallen in love with her in a month, + developing a senile passion, a senseless passion, which had an appearance + of reason. In fact, he found here neither the banter, nor the orgies, nor + the reckless expenditure, nor the depravity, nor the scorn of social + decencies, nor the insolent independence which had brought him to grief + alike with the actress and the singer. He was spared, too, the rapacity of + the courtesan, like unto the thirst of dry sand. + </p> + <p> + Madame Marneffe, of whom he had made a friend and confidante, made the + greatest difficulties over accepting any gift from him. + </p> + <p> + “Appointments, official presents, anything you can extract from the + Government; but do not begin by insulting a woman whom you profess to + love,” said Valerie. “If you do, I shall cease to believe you—and I + like to believe you,” she added, with a glance like Saint Theresa leering + at heaven. + </p> + <p> + Every time he made her a present there was a fortress to be stormed, a + conscience to be over-persuaded. The hapless Baron laid deep stratagems to + offer her some trifle—costly, nevertheless—proud of having at + last met with virtue and the realization of his dreams. In this primitive + household, as he assured himself, he was the god as much as in his own. + And Monsieur Marneffe seemed at a thousand leagues from suspecting that + the Jupiter of his office intended to descend on his wife in a shower of + gold; he was his august chief’s humblest slave. + </p> + <p> + Madame Marneffe, twenty-three years of age, a pure and bashful + middle-class wife, a blossom hidden in the Rue du Doyenne, could know + nothing of the depravity and demoralizing harlotry which the Baron could + no longer think of without disgust, for he had never known the charm of + recalcitrant virtue, and the coy Valerie made him enjoy it to the utmost—all + along the line, as the saying goes. + </p> + <p> + The question having come to this point between Hector and Valerie, it is + not astonishing that Valerie should have heard from Hector the secret of + the intended marriage between the great sculptor Steinbock and Hortense + Hulot. Between a lover on his promotion and a lady who hesitates long + before becoming his mistress, there are contests, uttered or unexpressed, + in which a word often betrays a thought; as, in fencing, the foils fly as + briskly as the swords in duel. Then a prudent man follows the example of + Monsieur de Turenne. Thus the Baron had hinted at the greater freedom his + daughter’s marriage would allow him, in reply to the tender Valerie, who + more than once had exclaimed: + </p> + <p> + “I cannot imagine how a woman can go wrong for a man who is not wholly + hers.” + </p> + <p> + And a thousand times already the Baron had declared that for + five-and-twenty years all had been at an end between Madame Hulot and + himself. + </p> + <p> + “And they say she is so handsome!” replied Madame Marneffe. “I want + proof.” + </p> + <p> + “You shall have it,” said the Baron, made happy by this demand, by which + his Valerie committed herself. + </p> + <p> + Hector had then been compelled to reveal his plans, already being carried + into effect in the Rue Vanneau, to prove to Valerie that he intended to + devote to her that half of his life which belonged to his lawful wife, + supposing that day and night equally divide the existence of civilized + humanity. He spoke of decently deserting his wife, leaving her to herself + as soon as Hortense should be married. The Baroness would then spend all + her time with Hortense or the young Hulot couple; he was sure of her + submission. + </p> + <p> + “And then, my angel, my true life, my real home will be in the Rue + Vanneau.” + </p> + <p> + “Bless me, how you dispose of me!” said Madame Marneffe. “And my husband——” + </p> + <p> + “That rag!” + </p> + <p> + “To be sure, as compared with you so he is!” said she with a laugh. + </p> + <p> + Madame Marneffe, having heard Steinbock’s history, was frantically eager + to see the young Count; perhaps she wished to have some trifle of his work + while they still lived under the same roof. This curiosity so seriously + annoyed the Baron that Valerie swore to him that she would never even look + at Wenceslas. But though she obtained, as the reward of her surrender of + this wish, a little tea-service of old Sevres <i>pate tendre</i>, she kept + her wish at the bottom of her heart, as if written on tablets. + </p> + <p> + So one day when she had begged “<i>my</i> Cousin Betty” to come to take + coffee with her in her room, she opened on the subject of her lover, to + know how she might see him without risk. + </p> + <p> + “My dear child,” said she, for they called each my dear, “why have you + never introduced your lover to me? Do you know that within a short time he + has become famous?” + </p> + <p> + “He famous?” + </p> + <p> + “He is the one subject of conversation.” + </p> + <p> + “Pooh!” cried Lisbeth. + </p> + <p> + “He is going to execute the statue of my father, and I could be of great + use to him and help him to succeed in the work; for Madame Montcornet + cannot lend him, as I can, a miniature by Sain, a beautiful thing done in + 1809, before the Wagram Campaign, and given to my poor mother—Montcornet + when he was young and handsome.” + </p> + <p> + Sain and Augustin between them held the sceptre of miniature painting + under the Empire. + </p> + <p> + “He is going to make a statue, my dear, did you say?” + </p> + <p> + “Nine feet high—by the orders of the Minister of War. Why, where + have you dropped from that I should tell you the news? Why, the Government + is going to give Count Steinbock rooms and a studio at Le Gros-Caillou, + the depot for marble; your Pole will be made the Director, I should not + wonder, with two thousand francs a year and a ring on his finger.” + </p> + <p> + “How do you know all this when I have heard nothing about it?” said + Lisbeth at last, shaking off her amazement. + </p> + <p> + “Now, my dear little Cousin Betty,” said Madame Marneffe, in an + insinuating voice, “are you capable of devoted friendship, put to any + test? Shall we henceforth be sisters? Will you swear to me never to have a + secret from me any more than I from you—to act as my spy, as I will + be yours?—Above all, will you pledge yourself never to betray me + either to my husband or to Monsieur Hulot, and never reveal that it was I + who told you——?” + </p> + <p> + Madame Marneffe broke off in this spurring harangue; Lisbeth frightened + her. The peasant-woman’s face was terrible; her piercing black eyes had + the glare of the tiger’s; her face was like that we ascribe to a + pythoness; she set her teeth to keep them from chattering, and her whole + frame quivered convulsively. She had pushed her clenched fingers under her + cap to clutch her hair and support her head, which felt too heavy; she was + on fire. The smoke of the flame that scorched her seemed to emanate from + her wrinkles as from the crevasses rent by a volcanic eruption. It was a + startling spectacle. + </p> + <p> + “Well, why do you stop?” she asked in a hollow voice. “I will be all to + you that I have been to him.—Oh, I would have given him my + life-blood!” + </p> + <p> + “You loved him then?” + </p> + <p> + “Like a child of my own!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then,” said Madame Marneffe, with a breath of relief, “if you only + love him in that way, you will be very happy—for you wish him to be + happy?” + </p> + <p> + Lisbeth replied by a nod as hasty as a madwoman’s. + </p> + <p> + “He is to marry your Cousin Hortense in a month’s time.” + </p> + <p> + “Hortense!” shrieked the old maid, striking her forehead, and starting to + her feet. + </p> + <p> + “Well, but then you were really in love with this young man?” asked + Valerie. + </p> + <p> + “My dear, we are bound for life and death, you and I,” said Mademoiselle + Fischer. “Yes, if you have any love affairs, to me they are sacred. Your + vices will be virtues in my eyes.—For I shall need your vices!” + </p> + <p> + “Then did you live with him?” asked Valerie. + </p> + <p> + “No; I meant to be a mother to him.” + </p> + <p> + “I give it up. I cannot understand,” said Valerie. “In that case you are + neither betrayed nor cheated, and you ought to be very happy to see him so + well married; he is now fairly afloat. And, at any rate, your day is over. + Our artist goes to Madame Hulot’s every evening as soon as you go out to + dinner.” + </p> + <p> + “Adeline!” muttered Lisbeth. “Oh, Adeline, you shall pay for this! I will + make you uglier than I am.” + </p> + <p> + “You are as pale as death!” exclaimed Valerie. “There is something wrong?—Oh, + what a fool I am! The mother and daughter must have suspected that you + would raise some obstacles in the way of this affair since they have kept + it from you,” said Madame Marneffe. “But if you did not live with the + young man, my dear, all this is a greater puzzle to me than my husband’s + feelings——” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, you don’t know,” said Lisbeth; “you have no idea of all their tricks. + It is the last blow that kills. And how many such blows have I had to + bruise my soul! You don’t know that from the time when I could first feel, + I have been victimized for Adeline. I was beaten, and she was petted; I + was dressed like a scullion, and she had clothes like a lady’s; I dug in + the garden and cleaned the vegetables, and she—she never lifted a + finger for anything but to make up some finery!—She married the + Baron, she came to shine at the Emperor’s Court, while I stayed in our + village till 1809, waiting for four years for a suitable match; they + brought me away, to be sure, but only to make me a work-woman, and to + offer me clerks or captains like coalheavers for a husband! I have had + their leavings for twenty-six years!—And now like the story in the + Old Testament, the poor relation has one ewe-lamb which is all her joy, + and the rich man who has flocks covets the ewe-lamb and steals it—without + warning, without asking. Adeline has meanly robbed me of my happiness!—Adeline! + Adeline! I will see you in the mire, and sunk lower than myself!—And + Hortense—I loved her, and she has cheated me. The Baron.—No, + it is impossible. Tell me again what is really true of all this.” + </p> + <p> + “Be calm, my dear child.” + </p> + <p> + “Valerie, my darling, I will be calm,” said the strange creature, sitting + down again. “One thing only can restore me to reason; give me proofs.” + </p> + <p> + “Your Cousin Hortense has the <i>Samson</i> group—here is a + lithograph from it published in a review. She paid for it out of her + pocket-money, and it is the Baron who, to benefit his future son-in-law, + is pushing him, getting everything for him.” + </p> + <p> + “Water!—water!” said Lisbeth, after glancing at the print, below + which she read, “A group belonging to Mademoiselle Hulot d’Ervy.” “Water! + my head is burning, I am going mad!” + </p> + <p> + Madame Marneffe fetched some water. Lisbeth took off her cap, unfastened + her black hair, and plunged her head into the basin her new friend held + for her. She dipped her forehead into it several times, and checked the + incipient inflammation. After this douche she completely recovered her + self-command. + </p> + <p> + “Not a word,” said she to Madame Marneffe as she wiped her face—“not + a word of all this.—You see, I am quite calm; everything is + forgotten. I am thinking of something very different.” + </p> + <p> + “She will be in Charenton to-morrow, that is very certain,” thought Madame + Marneffe, looking at the old maid. + </p> + <p> + “What is to be done?” Lisbeth went on. “You see, my angel, there is + nothing for it but to hold my tongue, bow my head, and drift to the grave, + as all water runs to the river. What could I try to do? I should like to + grind them all—Adeline, her daughter, and the Baron—all to + dust! But what can a poor relation do against a rich family? It would be + the story of the earthen pot and the iron pot.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; you are right,” said Valerie. “You can only pull as much hay as you + can to your side of the manger. That is all the upshot of life in Paris.” + </p> + <p> + “Besides,” said Lisbeth, “I shall soon die, I can tell you, if I lose that + boy to whom I fancied I could always be a mother, and with whom I counted + on living all my days——” + </p> + <p> + There were tears in her eyes, and she paused. Such emotion in this woman + made of sulphur and flame, made Valerie shudder. + </p> + <p> + “Well, at any rate, I have found you,” said Lisbeth, taking Valerie’s + hand, “that is some consolation in this dreadful trouble.—We shall + be true friends; and why should we ever part? I shall never cross your + track. No one will ever be in love with me!—Those who would have + married me, would only have done it to secure my Cousin Hulot’s interest. + With energy enough to scale Paradise, to have to devote it to procuring + bread and water, a few rags, and a garret!—That is martyrdom, my + dear, and I have withered under it.” + </p> + <p> + She broke off suddenly, and shot a black flash into Madame Marneffe’s blue + eyes, a glance that pierced the pretty woman’s soul, as the point of a + dagger might have pierced her heart. + </p> + <p> + “And what is the use of talking?” she exclaimed in reproof to herself. “I + never said so much before, believe me! The tables will be turned yet!” she + added after a pause. “As you so wisely say, let us sharpen our teeth, and + pull down all the hay we can get.” + </p> + <p> + “You are very wise,” said Madame Marneffe, who had been frightened by this + scene, and had no remembrance of having uttered this maxim. “I am sure you + are right, my dear child. Life is not so long after all, and we must make + the best of it, and make use of others to contribute to our enjoyment. + Even I have learned that, young as I am. I was brought up a spoilt child, + my father married ambitiously, and almost forgot me, after making me his + idol and bringing me up like a queen’s daughter! My poor mother, who + filled my head with splendid visions, died of grief at seeing me married + to an office clerk with twelve hundred francs a year, at nine-and-thirty + an aged and hardened libertine, as corrupt as the hulks, looking on me, as + others looked on you, as a means of fortune!—Well, in that wretched + man, I have found the best of husbands. He prefers the squalid sluts he + picks up at the street corners, and leaves me free. Though he keeps all + his salary to himself, he never asks me where I get money to live on——” + </p> + <p> + And she in her turn stopped short, as a woman does who feels herself + carried away by the torrent of her confessions; struck, too, by Lisbeth’s + eager attention, she thought well to make sure of Lisbeth before revealing + her last secrets. + </p> + <p> + “You see, dear child, how entire is my confidence in you!” she presently + added, to which Lisbeth replied by a most comforting nod. + </p> + <p> + An oath may be taken by a look and a nod more solemnly than in a court of + justice. + </p> + <p> + “I keep up every appearance of respectability,” Valerie went on, laying + her hand on Lisbeth’s as if to accept her pledge. “I am a married woman, + and my own mistress, to such a degree, that in the morning, when Marneffe + sets out for the office, if he takes it into his head to say good-bye and + finds my door locked, he goes off without a word. He cares less for his + boy than I care for one of the marble children that play at the feet of + one of the river-gods in the Tuileries. If I do not come home to dinner, + he dines quite contentedly with the maid, for the maid is devoted to + monsieur; and he goes out every evening after dinner, and does not come in + till twelve or one o’clock. Unfortunately, for a year past, I have had no + ladies’ maid, which is as much as to say that I am a widow! + </p> + <p> + “I have had one passion, once have been happy—a rich Brazilian—who + went away a year ago—my only lapse!—He went away to sell his + estates, to realize his land, and come back to live in France. What will + he find left of his Valerie? A dunghill. Well! it is his fault and not + mine; why does he delay coming so long? Perhaps he has been wrecked—like + my virtue.” + </p> + <p> + “Good-bye, my dear,” said Lisbeth abruptly; “we are friends for ever. I + love you, I esteem you, I am wholly yours! My cousin is tormenting me to + go and live in the house you are moving to, in the Rue Vanneau; but I + would not go, for I saw at once the reasons for this fresh piece of + kindness——” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; you would have kept an eye on me, I know!” said Madame Marneffe. + </p> + <p> + “That was, no doubt, the motive of his generosity,” replied Lisbeth. “In + Paris, most beneficence is a speculation, as most acts of ingratitude are + revenge! To a poor relation you behave as you do to rats to whom you offer + a bit of bacon. Now, I will accept the Baron’s offer, for this house has + grown intolerable to me. You and I have wit enough to hold our tongues + about everything that would damage us, and tell all that needs telling. + So, no blabbing—and we are friends.” + </p> + <p> + “Through thick and thin!” cried Madame Marneffe, delighted to have a + sheep-dog, a confidante, a sort of respectable aunt. “Listen to me; the + Baron is doing a great deal in the Rue Vanneau——” + </p> + <p> + “I believe you!” interrupted Lisbeth. “He has spent thirty thousand + francs! Where he got the money, I am sure I don’t know, for Josepha the + singer bled him dry.—Oh! you are in luck,” she went on. “The Baron + would steal for a woman who held his heart in two little white satin hands + like yours!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then,” said Madame Marneffe, with the liberality of such creatures, + which is mere recklessness, “look here, my dear child; take away from here + everything that may serve your turn in your new quarters—that chest + of drawers, that wardrobe and mirror, the carpet, the curtains——” + </p> + <p> + Lisbeth’s eyes dilated with excessive joy; she was incredulous of such a + gift. + </p> + <p> + “You are doing more for me in a breath than my rich relations have done in + thirty years!” she exclaimed. “They have never even asked themselves + whether I had any furniture at all. On his first visit, a few weeks ago, + the Baron made a rich man’s face on seeing how poor I was.—Thank + you, my dear; and I will give you your money’s worth, you will see how by + and by.” + </p> + <p> + Valerie went out on the landing with <i>her</i> Cousin Betty, and the two + women embraced. + </p> + <p> + “Pouh! How she stinks of hard work!” said the pretty little woman to + herself when she was alone. “I shall not embrace you often, my dear + cousin! At the same time, I must look sharp. She must be skilfully + managed, for she can be of use, and help me to make my fortune.” + </p> + <p> + Like the true Creole of Paris, Madame Marneffe abhorred trouble; she had + the calm indifference of a cat, which never jumps or runs but when urged + by necessity. To her, life must be all pleasure; and the pleasure without + difficulties. She loved flowers, provided they were brought to her. She + could not imagine going to the play but to a good box, at her own command, + and in a carriage to take her there. Valerie inherited these courtesan + tastes from her mother, on whom General Montcornet had lavished luxury + when he was in Paris, and who for twenty years had seen all the world at + her feet; who had been wasteful and prodigal, squandering her all in the + luxurious living of which the programme has been lost since the fall of + Napoleon. + </p> + <p> + The grandees of the Empire were a match in their follies for the great + nobles of the last century. Under the Restoration the nobility cannot + forget that it has been beaten and robbed, and so, with two or three + exceptions, it has become thrifty, prudent, and stay-at-home, in short, + bourgeois and penurious. Since then, 1830 has crowned the work of 1793. In + France, henceforth, there will be great names, but no great houses, unless + there should be political changes which we can hardly foresee. Everything + takes the stamp of individuality. The wisest invest in annuities. Family + pride is destroyed. + </p> + <p> + The bitter pressure of poverty which had stung Valerie to the quick on the + day when, to use Marneffe’s expression, she had “caught on” with Hulot, + had brought the young woman to the conclusion that she would make a + fortune by means of her good looks. So, for some days, she had been + feeling the need of having a friend about her to take the place of a + mother—a devoted friend, to whom such things may be told as must be + hidden from a waiting-maid, and who could act, come and go, and think for + her, a beast of burden resigned to an unequal share of life. Now, she, + quite as keenly as Lisbeth, had understood the Baron’s motives for + fostering the intimacy between his cousin and herself. + </p> + <p> + Prompted by the formidable perspicacity of the Parisian half-breed, who + spends her days stretched on a sofa, turning the lantern of her detective + spirit on the obscurest depths of souls, sentiments, and intrigues, she + had decided on making an ally of the spy. This supremely rash step was, + perhaps premeditated; she had discerned the true nature of this ardent + creature, burning with wasted passion, and meant to attach her to herself. + Thus, their conversation was like the stone a traveler casts into an abyss + to demonstrate its depth. And Madame Marneffe had been terrified to find + this old maid a combination of Iago and Richard III., so feeble as she + seemed, so humble, and so little to be feared. + </p> + <p> + For that instant, Lisbeth Fischer had been her real self; that Corsican + and savage temperament, bursting the slender bonds that held it under, had + sprung up to its terrible height, as the branch of a tree flies up from + the hand of a child that has bent it down to gather the green fruit. + </p> + <p> + To those who study the social world, it must always be a matter of + astonishment to see the fulness, the perfection, and the rapidity with + which an idea develops in a virgin nature. + </p> + <p> + Virginity, like every other monstrosity, has its special richness, its + absorbing greatness. Life, whose forces are always economized, assumes in + the virgin creature an incalculable power of resistance and endurance. The + brain is reinforced in the sum-total of its reserved energy. When really + chaste natures need to call on the resources of body or soul, and are + required to act or to think, they have muscles of steel, or intuitive + knowledge in their intelligence—diabolical strength, or the black + magic of the Will. + </p> + <p> + From this point of view the Virgin Mary, even if we regard her only as a + symbol, is supremely great above every other type, whether Hindoo, + Egyptian, or Greek. Virginity, the mother of great things, <i>magna parens + rerum</i>, holds in her fair white hands the keys of the upper worlds. In + short, that grand and terrible exception deserves all the honors decreed + to her by the Catholic Church. + </p> + <p> + Thus, in one moment, Lisbeth Fischer had become the Mohican whose snares + none can escape, whose dissimulation is inscrutable, whose swift + decisiveness is the outcome of the incredible perfection of every organ of + sense. She was Hatred and Revenge, as implacable as they are in Italy, + Spain, and the East. These two feelings, the obverse of friendship and + love carried to the utmost, are known only in lands scorched by the sun. + But Lisbeth was also a daughter of Lorraine, bent on deceit. + </p> + <p> + She accepted this detail of her part against her will; she began by making + a curious attempt, due to her ignorance. She fancied, as children do, that + being imprisoned meant the same thing as solitary confinement. But this is + the superlative degree of imprisonment, and that superlative is the + privilege of the Criminal Bench. + </p> + <p> + As soon as she left Madame Marneffe, Lisbeth hurried off to Monsieur + Rivet, and found him in his office. + </p> + <p> + “Well, my dear Monsieur Rivet,” she began, when she had bolted the door of + the room. “You were quite right. Those Poles! They are low villains—all + alike, men who know neither law nor fidelity.” + </p> + <p> + “And who want to set Europe on fire,” said the peaceable Rivet, “to ruin + every trade and every trader for the sake of a country that is all + bog-land, they say, and full of horrible Jews, to say nothing of the + Cossacks and the peasants—a sort of wild beasts classed by mistake + with human beings. Your Poles do not understand the times we live in; we + are no longer barbarians. War is coming to an end, my dear mademoiselle; + it went out with the Monarchy. This is the age of triumph for commerce, + and industry, and middle-class prudence, such as were the making of + Holland. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he went on with animation, “we live in a period when nations must + obtain all they need by the legal extension of their liberties and by the + pacific action of Constitutional Institutions; that is what the Poles do + not see, and I hope—— + </p> + <p> + “You were saying, my dear?—” he added, interrupting himself when he + saw from his work-woman’s face that high politics were beyond her + comprehension. + </p> + <p> + “Here is the schedule,” said Lisbeth. “If I don’t want to lose my three + thousand two hundred and ten francs, I must clap this rogue into prison.” + </p> + <p> + “Didn’t I tell you so?” cried the oracle of the Saint-Denis quarter. + </p> + <p> + The Rivets, successor to Pons Brothers, had kept their shop still in the + Rue des Mauvaises-Paroles, in the ancient Hotel Langeais, built by that + illustrious family at the time when the nobility still gathered round the + Louvre. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, and I blessed you on my way here,” replied Lisbeth. + </p> + <p> + “If he suspects nothing, he can be safe in prison by eight o’clock in the + morning,” said Rivet, consulting the almanac to ascertain the hour of + sunrise; “but not till the day after to-morrow, for he cannot be + imprisoned till he has had notice that he is to be arrested by writ, with + the option of payment or imprisonment. And so——” + </p> + <p> + “What an idiotic law!” exclaimed Lisbeth. “Of course the debtor escapes.” + </p> + <p> + “He has every right to do so,” said the Assessor, smiling. “So this is the + way——” + </p> + <p> + “As to that,” said Lisbeth, interrupting him, “I will take the paper and + hand it to him, saying that I have been obliged to raise the money, and + that the lender insists on this formality. I know my gentleman. He will + not even look at the paper; he will light his pipe with it.” + </p> + <p> + “Not a bad idea, not bad, Mademoiselle Fischer! Well, make your mind easy; + the job shall be done.—But stop a minute; to put your man in prison + is not the only point to be considered; you only want to indulge in that + legal luxury in order to get your money. Who is to pay you?” + </p> + <p> + “Those who give him money.” + </p> + <p> + “To be sure; I forgot that the Minister of War had commissioned him to + erect a monument to one of our late customers. Ah! the house has supplied + many an uniform to General Montcornet; he soon blackened them with the + smoke of cannon. A brave man, he was! and he paid on the nail.” + </p> + <p> + A marshal of France may have saved the Emperor or his country; “He paid on + the nail” will always be the highest praise he can have from a tradesman. + </p> + <p> + “Very well. And on Saturday, Monsieur Rivet, you shall have the flat + tassels.—By the way, I am moving from the Rue du Doyenne; I am going + to live in the Rue Vanneau.” + </p> + <p> + “You are very right. I could not bear to see you in that hole which, in + spite of my aversion to the Opposition, I must say is a disgrace; I repeat + it, yes! is a disgrace to the Louvre and the Place du Carrousel. I am + devoted to Louis-Philippe, he is my idol; he is the august and exact + representative of the class on whom he founded his dynasty, and I can + never forget what he did for the trimming-makers by restoring the National + Guard——” + </p> + <p> + “When I hear you speak so, Monsieur Rivet, I cannot help wondering why you + are not made a deputy.” + </p> + <p> + “They are afraid of my attachment to the dynasty,” replied Rivet. “My + political enemies are the King’s. He has a noble character! They are a + fine family; in short,” said he, returning to the charge, “he is our + ideal: morality, economy, everything. But the completion of the Louvre is + one of the conditions on which we gave him the crown, and the civil list, + which, I admit, had no limits set to it, leaves the heart of Paris in a + most melancholy state.—It is because I am so strongly in favor of + the middle course that I should like to see the middle of Paris in a + better condition. Your part of the town is positively terrifying. You + would have been murdered there one fine day.—And so your Monsieur + Crevel has been made Major of his division! He will come to us, I hope, + for his big epaulette.” + </p> + <p> + “I am dining with him to-night, and will send him to you.” + </p> + <p> + Lisbeth believed that she had secured her Livonian to herself by cutting + him off from all communication with the outer world. If he could no longer + work, the artist would be forgotten as completely as a man buried in a + cellar, where she alone would go to see him. Thus she had two happy days, + for she hoped to deal a mortal blow at the Baroness and her daughter. + </p> + <p> + To go to Crevel’s house, in the Rue des Saussayes, she crossed the Pont du + Carrousel, went along the Quai Voltaire, the Quai d’Orsay, the Rue + Bellechasse, Rue de l’Universite, the Pont de la Concorde, and the Avenue + de Marigny. This illogical route was traced by the logic of passion, + always the foe of the legs. + </p> + <p> + Cousin Betty, as long as she followed the line of the quays, kept watch on + the opposite shore of the Seine, walking very slowly. She had guessed + rightly. She had left Wenceslas dressing; she at once understood that, as + soon as he should be rid of her, the lover would go off to the Baroness’ + by the shortest road. And, in fact, as she wandered along by the parapet + of the Quai Voltaire, in fancy suppressing the river and walking along the + opposite bank, she recognized the artist as he came out of the Tuileries + to cross the Pont Royal. She there came up with the faithless one, and + could follow him unseen, for lovers rarely look behind them. She escorted + him as far as Madame Hulot’s house, where he went in like an accustomed + visitor. + </p> + <p> + This crowning proof, confirming Madame Marneffe’s revelations, put Lisbeth + quite beside herself. + </p> + <p> + She arrived at the newly promoted Major’s door in the state of mental + irritation which prompts men to commit murder, and found Monsieur Crevel + <i>senior</i> in his drawing-room awaiting his children, Monsieur and + Madame Hulot <i>junior</i>. + </p> + <p> + But Celestin Crevel was so unconscious and so perfect a type of the + Parisian parvenu, that we can scarcely venture so unceremoniously into the + presence of Cesar Birotteau’s successor. Celestin Crevel was a world in + himself; and he, even more than Rivet, deserves the honors of the palette + by reason of his importance in this domestic drama. + </p> + <p> + Have you ever observed how in childhood, or at the early stages of social + life, we create a model for our own imitation, with our own hands as it + were, and often without knowing it? The banker’s clerk, for instance, as + he enters his master’s drawing-room, dreams of possessing such another. If + he makes a fortune, it will not be the luxury of the day, twenty years + later, that you will find in his house, but the old-fashioned splendor + that fascinated him of yore. It is impossible to tell how many absurdities + are due to this retrospective jealousy; and in the same way we know + nothing of the follies due to the covert rivalry that urges men to copy + the type they have set themselves, and exhaust their powers in shining + with a reflected light, like the moon. + </p> + <p> + Crevel was deputy mayor because his predecessor had been; he was Major + because he coveted Cesar Birotteau’s epaulettes. In the same way, struck + by the marvels wrought by Grindot the architect, at the time when Fortune + had carried his master to the top of the wheel, Crevel had “never looked + at both sides of a crown-piece,” to use his own language, when he wanted + to “do up” his rooms; he had gone with his purse open and his eyes shut to + Grindot, who by this time was quite forgotten. It is impossible to guess + how long an extinct reputation may survive, supported by such stale + admiration. + </p> + <p> + So Grindot, for the thousandth time had displayed his white-and-gold + drawing-room paneled with crimson damask. The furniture, of rosewood, + clumsily carved, as such work is done for the trade, had in the country + been the source of just pride in Paris workmanship on the occasion of an + industrial exhibition. The candelabra, the fire-dogs, the fender, the + chandelier, the clock, were all in the most unmeaning style of + scroll-work; the round table, a fixture in the middle of the room, was a + mosaic of fragments of Italian and antique marbles, brought from Rome, + where these dissected maps are made of mineralogical specimens—for + all the world like tailors’ patterns—an object of perennial + admiration to Crevel’s citizen friends. The portraits of the late lamented + Madame Crevel, of Crevel himself, of his daughter and his son-in-law, hung + on the walls, two and two; they were the work of Pierre Grassou, the + favored painter of the bourgeoisie, to whom Crevel owed his ridiculous + Byronic attitude. The frames, costing a thousand francs each, were quite + in harmony with this coffee-house magnificence, which would have made any + true artist shrug his shoulders. + </p> + <p> + Money never yet missed the smallest opportunity of being stupid. We should + have in Paris ten Venices if our retired merchants had had the instinct + for fine things characteristic of the Italians. Even in our own day a + Milanese merchant could leave five hundred thousand francs to the Duomo, + to regild the colossal statue of the Virgin that crowns the edifice. + Canova, in his will, desired his brother to build a church costing four + million francs, and that brother adds something on his own account. Would + a citizen of Paris—and they all, like Rivet, love their Paris in + their heart—ever dream of building the spires that are lacking to + the towers of Notre-Dame? And only think of the sums that revert to the + State in property for which no heirs are found. + </p> + <p> + All the improvements of Paris might have been completed with the money + spent on stucco castings, gilt mouldings, and sham sculpture during the + last fifteen years by individuals of the Crevel stamp. + </p> + <p> + Beyond this drawing-room was a splendid boudoir furnished with tables and + cabinets in imitation of Boulle. + </p> + <p> + The bedroom, smart with chintz, also opened out of the drawing-room. + Mahogany in all its glory infested the dining-room, and Swiss views, + gorgeously framed, graced the panels. Crevel, who hoped to travel in + Switzerland, had set his heart on possessing the scenery in painting till + the time should come when he might see it in reality. + </p> + <p> + So, as will have been seen, Crevel, the Mayor’s deputy, of the Legion of + Honor and of the National Guard, had faithfully reproduced all the + magnificence, even as to furniture, of his luckless predecessor. Under the + Restoration, where one had sunk, this other, quite overlooked, had come to + the top—not by any strange stroke of fortune, but by the force of + circumstance. In revolutions, as in storms at sea, solid treasure goes to + the bottom, and light trifles are floated to the surface. Cesar Birotteau, + a Royalist, in favor and envied, had been made the mark of bourgeois + hostility, while bourgeoisie triumphant found its incarnation in Crevel. + </p> + <p> + This apartment, at a rent of a thousand crowns, crammed with all the + vulgar magnificence that money can buy, occupied the first floor of a fine + old house between a courtyard and a garden. Everything was as + spick-and-span as the beetles in an entomological case, for Crevel lived + very little at home. + </p> + <p> + This gorgeous residence was the ambitious citizen’s legal domicile. His + establishment consisted of a woman-cook and a valet; he hired two extra + men, and had a dinner sent in by Chevet, whenever he gave a banquet to his + political friends, to men he wanted to dazzle or to a family party. + </p> + <p> + The seat of Crevel’s real domesticity, formerly in the Rue Notre-Dame de + Lorette, with Mademoiselle Heloise Brisetout, had lately been transferred, + as we have seen, to the Rue Chauchat. Every morning the retired merchant—every + ex-tradesman is a retired merchant—spent two hours in the Rue des + Saussayes to attend to business, and gave the rest of his time to + Mademoiselle Zaire, which annoyed Zaire very much. Orosmanes-Crevel had a + fixed bargain with Mademoiselle Heloise; she owed him five hundred francs + worth of enjoyment every month, and no “bills delivered.” He paid + separately for his dinner and all extras. This agreement, with certain + bonuses, for he made her a good many presents, seemed cheap to the + ex-attache of the great singer; and he would say to widowers who were fond + of their daughters, that it paid better to job your horses than to have a + stable of your own. At the same time, if the reader remembers the speech + made to the Baron by the porter at the Rue Chauchat, Crevel did not escape + the coachman and the groom. + </p> + <p> + Crevel, as may be seen, had turned his passionate affection for his + daughter to the advantage of his self-indulgence. The immoral aspect of + the situation was justified by the highest morality. And then the + ex-perfumer derived from this style of living—it was the inevitable, + a free-and-easy life, <i>Regence, Pompadour, Marechal de Richelieu</i>, + what not—a certain veneer of superiority. Crevel set up for being a + man of broad views, a fine gentleman with an air and grace, a liberal man + with nothing narrow in his ideas—and all for the small sum of about + twelve to fifteen hundred francs a month. This was the result not of + hypocritical policy, but of middle-class vanity, though it came to the + same in the end. + </p> + <p> + On the Bourse Crevel was regarded as a man superior to his time, and + especially as a man of pleasure, a <i>bon vivant</i>. In this particular + Crevel flattered himself that he had overtopped his worthy friend + Birotteau by a hundred cubits. + </p> + <p> + “And is it you?” cried Crevel, flying into a rage as he saw Lisbeth enter + the room, “who have plotted this marriage between Mademoiselle Hulot and + your young Count, whom you have been bringing up by hand for her?” + </p> + <p> + “You don’t seem best pleased at it?” said Lisbeth, fixing a piercing eye + on Crevel. “What interest can you have in hindering my cousin’s marriage? + For it was you, I am told, who hindered her marrying Monsieur Lebas’ son.” + </p> + <p> + “You are a good soul and to be trusted,” said Crevel. “Well, then, do you + suppose that I will ever forgive Monsieur Hulot for the crime of having + robbed me of Josepha—especially when he turned a decent girl, whom I + should have married in my old age, into a good-for-nothing slut, a + mountebank, an opera singer!—No, no. Never!” + </p> + <p> + “He is a very good fellow, too, is Monsieur Hulot,” said Cousin Betty. + </p> + <p> + “Amiable, very amiable—too amiable,” replied Crevel. “I wish him no + harm; but I do wish to have my revenge, and I will have it. It is my one + idea.” + </p> + <p> + “And is that desire the reason why you no longer visit Madame Hulot?” + </p> + <p> + “Possibly.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, ha! then you were courting my fair cousin?” said Lisbeth, with a + smile. “I thought as much.” + </p> + <p> + “And she treated me like a dog!—worse, like a footman; nay, I might + say like a political prisoner.—But I will succeed yet,” said he, + striking his brow with his clenched fist. + </p> + <p> + “Poor man! It would be dreadful to catch his wife deceiving him after + being packed off by his mistress.” + </p> + <p> + “Josepha?” cried Crevel. “Has Josepha thrown him over, packed him off, + turned him out neck and crop? Bravo, Josepha, you have avenged me! I will + send you a pair of pearls to hang in your ears, my ex-sweetheart!—I + knew nothing of it; for after I had seen you, on the day after that when + the fair Adeline had shown me the door, I went back to visit the Lebas, at + Corbeil, and have but just come back. Heloise played the very devil to get + me into the country, and I have found out the purpose of her game; she + wanted me out of the way while she gave a house-warming in the Rue + Chauchat, with some artists, and players, and writers.—She took me + in! But I can forgive her, for Heloise amuses me. She is a Dejazet under a + bushel. What a character the hussy is! There is the note I found last + evening: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “‘DEAR OLD CHAP,—I have pitched my tent in the Rue Chauchat. I + have taken the precaution of getting a few friends to clean up the + paint. All is well. Come when you please, monsieur; Hagar awaits + her Abraham.’ +</pre> + <p> + “Heloise will have some news for me, for she has her bohemia at her + fingers’ end.” + </p> + <p> + “But Monsieur Hulot took the disaster very calmly,” said Lisbeth. + </p> + <p> + “Impossible!” cried Crevel, stopping in a parade as regular as the swing + of a pendulum. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur Hulot is not as young as he was,” Lisbeth remarked + significantly. + </p> + <p> + “I know that,” said Crevel, “but in one point we are alike: Hulot cannot + do without an attachment. He is capable of going back to his wife. It + would be a novelty for him, but an end to my vengeance. You smile, + Mademoiselle Fischer—ah! perhaps you know something?” + </p> + <p> + “I am smiling at your notions,” replied Lisbeth. “Yes, my cousin is still + handsome enough to inspire a passion. I should certainly fall in love with + her if I were a man.” + </p> + <p> + “Cut and come again!” exclaimed Crevel. “You are laughing at me.—The + Baron has already found consolation?” + </p> + <p> + Lisbeth bowed affirmatively. + </p> + <p> + “He is a lucky man if he can find a second Josepha within twenty-four + hours!” said Crevel. “But I am not altogether surprised, for he told me + one evening at supper that when he was a young man he always had three + mistresses on hand that he might not be left high and dry—the one he + was giving over, the one in possession, and the one he was courting for a + future emergency. He had some smart little work-woman in reserve, no doubt—in + his fish-pond—his <i>Parc-aux-cerfs</i>! He is very Louis XV., is my + gentleman. He is in luck to be so handsome!—However, he is ageing; + his face shows it.—He has taken up with some little milliner?” + </p> + <p> + “Dear me, no,” replied Lisbeth. + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” cried Crevel, “what would I not do to hinder him from hanging up his + hat! I could not win back Josepha; women of that kind never come back to + their first love.—Besides, it is truly said, such a return is not + love.—But, Cousin Betty, I would pay down fifty thousand francs—that + is to say, I would spend it—to rob that great good-looking fellow of + his mistress, and to show him that a Major with a portly stomach and a + brain made to become Mayor of Paris, though he is a grandfather, is not to + have his mistress tickled away by a poacher without turning the tables.” + </p> + <p> + “My position,” said Lisbeth, “compels me to hear everything and know + nothing. You may talk to me without fear; I never repeat a word of what + any one may choose to tell me. How can you suppose I should ever break + that rule of conduct? No one would ever trust me again.” + </p> + <p> + “I know,” said Crevel; “you are the very jewel of old maids. Still, come, + there are exceptions. Look here, the family have never settled an + allowance on you?” + </p> + <p> + “But I have my pride,” said Lisbeth. “I do not choose to be an expense to + anybody.” + </p> + <p> + “If you will but help me to my revenge,” the tradesman went on, “I will + sink ten thousand francs in an annuity for you. Tell me, my fair cousin, + tell me who has stepped into Josepha’s shoes, and you will have money to + pay your rent, your little breakfast in the morning, the good coffee you + love so well—you might allow yourself pure Mocha, heh! And a very + good thing is pure Mocha!” + </p> + <p> + “I do not care so much for the ten thousand francs in an annuity, which + would bring me nearly five hundred francs a year, as for absolute + secrecy,” said Lisbeth. “For, you see, my dear Monsieur Crevel, the Baron + is very good to me; he is to pay my rent——” + </p> + <p> + “Oh yes, long may that last! I advise you to trust him,” cried Crevel. + “Where will he find the money?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, that I don’t know. At the same time, he is spending more than thirty + thousand francs on the rooms he is furnishing for this little lady.” + </p> + <p> + “A lady! What, a woman in society; the rascal, what luck he has! He is the + only favorite!” + </p> + <p> + “A married woman, and quite the lady,” Lisbeth affirmed. + </p> + <p> + “Really and truly?” cried Crevel, opening wide eyes flashing with envy, + quite as much as at the magic words <i>quite the lady</i>. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, really,” said Lisbeth. “Clever, a musician, three-and-twenty, a + pretty, innocent face, a dazzling white skin, teeth like a puppy’s, eyes + like stars, a beautiful forehead—and tiny feet, I never saw the + like, they are not wider than her stay-busk.” + </p> + <p> + “And ears?” asked Crevel, keenly alive to this catalogue of charms. + </p> + <p> + “Ears for a model,” she replied. + </p> + <p> + “And small hands?” + </p> + <p> + “I tell you, in few words, a gem of a woman—and high-minded, and + modest, and refined! A beautiful soul, an angel—and with every + distinction, for her father was a Marshal of France——” + </p> + <p> + “A Marshal of France!” shrieked Crevel, positively bounding with + excitement. “Good Heavens! by the Holy Piper! By all the joys in Paradise!—The + rascal!—I beg your pardon, Cousin, I am going crazy!—I think I + would give a hundred thousand francs——” + </p> + <p> + “I dare say you would, and, I tell you, she is a respectable woman—a + woman of virtue. The Baron has forked out handsomely.” + </p> + <p> + “He has not a sou, I tell you.” + </p> + <p> + “There is a husband he has pushed——” + </p> + <p> + “Where did he push him?” asked Crevel, with a bitter laugh. + </p> + <p> + “He is promoted to be second in his office—this husband who will + oblige, no doubt;—and his name is down for the Cross of the Legion + of Honor.” + </p> + <p> + “The Government ought to be judicious and respect those who have the Cross + by not flinging it broadcast,” said Crevel, with the look of an aggrieved + politician. “But what is there about the man—that old bulldog of a + Baron?” he went on. “It seems to me that I am quite a match for him,” and + he struck an attitude as he looked at himself in the glass. “Heloise has + told me many a time, at moments when a woman speaks the truth, that I was + wonderful.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh,” said Lisbeth, “women like big men; they are almost always + good-natured; and if I had to decide between you and the Baron, I should + choose you. Monsieur Hulot is amusing, handsome, and has a figure; but + you, you are substantial, and then—you see—you look an even + greater scamp than he does.” + </p> + <p> + “It is incredible how all women, even pious women, take to men who have + that about them!” exclaimed Crevel, putting his arm round Lisbeth’s waist, + he was so jubilant. + </p> + <p> + “The difficulty does not lie there,” said Betty. “You must see that a + woman who is getting so many advantages will not be unfaithful to her + patron for nothing; and it would cost you more than a hundred odd thousand + francs, for our little friend can look forward to seeing her husband at + the head of his office within two years’ time.—It is poverty that is + dragging the poor little angel into that pit.” + </p> + <p> + Crevel was striding up and down the drawing-room in a state of frenzy. + </p> + <p> + “He must be uncommonly fond of the woman?” he inquired after a pause, + while his desires, thus goaded by Lisbeth, rose to a sort of madness. + </p> + <p> + “You may judge for yourself,” replied Lisbeth. “I don’t believe he has had + <i>that</i> of her,” said she, snapping her thumbnail against one of her + enormous white teeth, “and he has given her ten thousand francs’ worth of + presents already.” + </p> + <p> + “What a good joke it would be!” cried Crevel, “if I got to the winning + post first!” + </p> + <p> + “Good heavens! It is too bad of me to be telling you all this + tittle-tattle,” said Lisbeth, with an air of compunction. + </p> + <p> + “No.—I mean to put your relations to the blush. To-morrow I shall + invest in your name such a sum in five-per-cents as will give you six + hundred francs a year; but then you must tell me everything—his + Dulcinea’s name and residence. To you I will make a clean breast of it.—I + never have had a real lady for a mistress, and it is the height of my + ambition. Mahomet’s houris are nothing in comparison with what I fancy a + woman of fashion must be. In short, it is my dream, my mania, and to such + a point, that I declare to you the Baroness Hulot to me will never be + fifty,” said he, unconsciously plagiarizing one of the greatest wits of + the last century. “I assure you, my good Lisbeth, I am prepared to + sacrifice a hundred, two hundred—Hush! Here are the young people, I + see them crossing the courtyard. I shall never have learned anything + through you, I give you my word of honor; for I do not want you to lose + the Baron’s confidence, quite the contrary. He must be amazingly fond of + this woman—that old boy.” + </p> + <p> + “He is crazy about her,” said Lisbeth. “He could not find forty thousand + francs to marry his daughter off, but he has got them somehow for his new + passion.” + </p> + <p> + “And do you think that she loves him?” + </p> + <p> + “At his age!” said the old maid. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, what an owl I am!” cried Crevel, “when I myself allowed Heloise to + keep her artist exactly as Henri IX. allowed Gabrielle her Bellegrade. + Alas! old age, old age!—Good-morning, Celestine. How do, my jewel!—And + the brat? Ah! here he comes; on my honor, he is beginning to be like me!—Good-day, + Hulot—quite well? We shall soon be having another wedding in the + family.” + </p> + <p> + Celestine and her husband, as a hint to their father, glanced at the old + maid, who audaciously asked, in reply to Crevel: + </p> + <p> + “Indeed—whose?” + </p> + <p> + Crevel put on an air of reserve which was meant to convey that he would + make up for her indiscretions. + </p> + <p> + “That of Hortense,” he replied; “but it is not yet quite settled. I have + just come from the Lebas’, and they were talking of Mademoiselle Popinot + as a suitable match for their son, the young councillor, for he would like + to get the presidency of a provincial court.—Now, come to dinner.” + </p> + <p> + By seven o’clock Lisbeth had returned home in an omnibus, for she was + eager to see Wenceslas, whose dupe she had been for three weeks, and to + whom she was carrying a basket filled with fruit by the hands of Crevel + himself, whose attentions were doubled towards <i>his</i> Cousin Betty. + </p> + <p> + She flew up to the attic at a pace that took her breath away, and found + the artist finishing the ornamentation of a box to be presented to the + adored Hortense. The framework of the lid represented hydrangeas—in + French called <i>Hortensias</i>—among which little Loves were + playing. The poor lover, to enable him to pay for the materials of the + box, of which the panels were of malachite, had designed two candlesticks + for Florent and Chanor, and sold them the copyright—two admirable + pieces of work. + </p> + <p> + “You have been working too hard these last few days, my dear fellow,” said + Lisbeth, wiping the perspiration from his brow, and giving him a kiss. + “Such laborious diligence is really dangerous in the month of August. + Seriously, you may injure your health. Look, here are some peaches and + plums from Monsieur Crevel.—Now, do not worry yourself so much; I + have borrowed two thousand francs, and, short of some disaster, we can + repay them when you sell your clock. At the same time, the lender seems to + me suspicious, for he has just sent in this document.” + </p> + <p> + She laid the writ under the model sketch of the statue of General + Montcornet. + </p> + <p> + “For whom are you making this pretty thing?” said she, taking up the model + sprays of hydrangea in red wax which Wenceslas had laid down while eating + the fruit. + </p> + <p> + “For a jeweler.” + </p> + <p> + “For what jeweler?” + </p> + <p> + “I do not know. Stidmann asked me to make something out of them, as he is + very busy.” + </p> + <p> + “But these,” she said in a deep voice, “are <i>Hortensias</i>. How is it + that you have never made anything in wax for me? Is it so difficult to + design a pin, a little box—what not, as a keepsake?” and she shot a + fearful glance at the artist, whose eyes were happily lowered. “And yet + you say you love me?” + </p> + <p> + “Can you doubt it, mademoiselle?” + </p> + <p> + “That is indeed an ardent <i>mademoiselle</i>!—Why, you have been my + only thought since I found you dying—just there. When I saved you, + you vowed you were mine, I mean to hold you to that pledge; but I made a + vow to myself! I said to myself, ‘Since the boy says he is mine, I mean to + make him rich and happy!’ Well, and I can make your fortune.” + </p> + <p> + “How?” said the hapless artist, at the height of joy, and too artless to + dream of a snare. + </p> + <p> + “Why, thus,” said she. + </p> + <p> + Lisbeth could not deprive herself of the savage pleasure of gazing at + Wenceslas, who looked up at her with filial affection, the expression + really of his love for Hortense, which deluded the old maid. Seeing in a + man’s eyes, for the first time in her life, the blazing torch of passion, + she fancied it was for her that it was lighted. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur Crevel will back us to the extent of a hundred thousand francs + to start in business, if, as he says, you will marry me. He has queer + ideas, has the worthy man.—Well, what do you say to it?” she added. + </p> + <p> + The artist, as pale as the dead, looked at his benefactress with a + lustreless eye, which plainly spoke his thoughts. He stood stupefied and + open-mouthed. + </p> + <p> + “I never before was so distinctly told that I am hideous,” said she, with + a bitter laugh. + </p> + <p> + “Mademoiselle,” said Steinbock, “my benefactress can never be ugly in my + eyes; I have the greatest affection for you. But I am not yet thirty, and——” + </p> + <p> + “I am forty-three,” said Lisbeth. “My cousin Adeline is forty-eight, and + men are still madly in love with her; but then she is handsome—she + is!” + </p> + <p> + “Fifteen years between us, mademoiselle! How could we get on together! For + both our sakes I think we should be wise to think it over. My gratitude + shall be fully equal to your great kindness.—And your money shall be + repaid in a few days.” + </p> + <p> + “My money!” cried she. “You treat me as if I were nothing but an unfeeling + usurer.” + </p> + <p> + “Forgive me,” said Wenceslas, “but you remind me of it so often.—Well, + it is you who have made me; do not crush me.” + </p> + <p> + “You mean to be rid of me, I can see,” said she, shaking her head. “Who + has endowed you with this strength of ingratitude—you who are a man + of papier-mache? Have you ceased to trust me—your good genius?—me, + when I have spent so many nights working for you—when I have given + you every franc I have saved in my lifetime—when for four years I + have shared my bread with you, the bread of a hard-worked woman, and given + you all I had, to my very courage.” + </p> + <p> + “Mademoiselle—no more, no more!” he cried, kneeling before her with + uplifted hands. “Say not another word! In three days I will tell you, you + shall know all.—Let me, let me be happy,” and he kissed her hands. + “I love—and I am loved.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, well, my child, be happy,” she said, lifting him up. And she kissed + his forehead and hair with the eagerness that a man condemned to death + must feel as he lives through the last morning. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! you are of all creatures the noblest and best! You are a match for + the woman I love,” said the poor artist. + </p> + <p> + “I love you well enough to tremble for your future fate,” said she + gloomily. “Judas hanged himself—the ungrateful always come to a bad + end! You are deserting me, and you will never again do any good work. + Consider whether, without being married—for I know I am an old maid, + and I do not want to smother the blossom of your youth, your poetry, as + you call it, in my arms, that are like vine-stocks—but whether, + without being married, we could not get on together? Listen; I have the + commercial spirit; I could save you a fortune in the course of ten years’ + work, for Economy is my name!—while, with a young wife, who would be + sheer Expenditure, you would squander everything; you would work only to + indulge her. But happiness creates nothing but memories. Even I, when I am + thinking of you, sit for hours with my hands in my lap—— + </p> + <p> + “Come, Wenceslas, stay with me.—Look here, I understand all about + it; you shall have your mistresses; pretty ones too, like that little + Marneffe woman who wants to see you, and who will give you happiness you + could never find with me. Then, when I have saved you thirty thousand + francs a year in the funds——” + </p> + <p> + “Mademoiselle, you are an angel, and I shall never forget this hour,” said + Wenceslas, wiping away his tears. + </p> + <p> + “That is how I like to see you, my child,” said she, gazing at him with + rapture. + </p> + <p> + Vanity is so strong a power in us all that Lisbeth believed in her + triumph. She had conceded so much when offering him Madame Marneffe. It + was the crowning emotion of her life; for the first time she felt the full + tide of joy rising in her heart. To go through such an experience again + she would have sold her soul to the Devil. + </p> + <p> + “I am engaged to be married,” Steinbock replied, “and I love a woman with + whom no other can compete or compare.—But you are, and always will + be, to me the mother I have lost.” + </p> + <p> + The words fell like an avalanche of snow on a burning crater. Lisbeth sat + down. She gazed with despondent eyes on the youth before her, on his + aristocratic beauty—the artist’s brow, the splendid hair, everything + that appealed to her suppressed feminine instincts, and tiny tears + moistened her eyes for an instant and immediately dried up. She looked + like one of those meagre statues which the sculptors of the Middle Ages + carved on monuments. + </p> + <p> + “I cannot curse you,” said she, suddenly rising. “You—you are but a + boy. God preserve you!” + </p> + <p> + She went downstairs and shut herself into her own room. + </p> + <p> + “She is in love with me, poor creature!” said Wenceslas to himself. “And + how fervently eloquent! She is crazy.” + </p> + <p> + This last effort on the part of an arid and narrow nature to keep hold on + an embodiment of beauty and poetry was, in truth, so violent that it can + only be compared to the frenzied vehemence of a shipwrecked creature + making the last struggle to reach shore. + </p> + <p> + On the next day but one, at half-past four in the morning, when Count + Steinbock was sunk in the deepest sleep, he heard a knock at the door of + his attic; he rose to open it, and saw two men in shabby clothing, and a + third, whose dress proclaimed him a bailiff down on his luck. + </p> + <p> + “You are Monsieur Wenceslas, Count Steinbock?” said this man. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, monsieur.” + </p> + <p> + “My name is Grasset, sir, successor to Louchard, sheriff’s officer——” + </p> + <p> + “What then?” + </p> + <p> + “You are under arrest, sir. You must come with us to prison—to + Clichy.—Please to get dressed.—We have done the civil, as you + see; I have brought no police, and there is a hackney cab below.” + </p> + <p> + “You are safely nabbed, you see,” said one of the bailiffs; “and we look + to you to be liberal.” + </p> + <p> + Steinbock dressed and went downstairs, a man holding each arm; when he was + in the cab, the driver started without orders, as knowing where he was to + go, and within half an hour the unhappy foreigner found himself safely + under bolt and bar without even a remonstrance, so utterly amazed was he. + </p> + <p> + At ten o’clock he was sent for to the prison-office, where he found + Lisbeth, who, in tears, gave him some money to feed himself adequately and + to pay for a room large enough to work in. + </p> + <p> + “My dear boy,” said she, “never say a word of your arrest to anybody, do + not write to a living soul; it would ruin you for life; we must hide this + blot on your character. I will soon have you out. I will collect the money—be + quite easy. Write down what you want for your work. You shall soon be + free, or I will die for it.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I shall owe you my life a second time!” cried he, “for I should lose + more than my life if I were thought a bad fellow.” + </p> + <p> + Lisbeth went off in great glee; she hoped, by keeping her artist under + lock and key, to put a stop to his marriage by announcing that he was a + married man, pardoned by the efforts of his wife, and gone off to Russia. + </p> + <p> + To carry out this plan, at about three o’clock she went to the Baroness, + though it was not the day when she was due to dine with her; but she + wished to enjoy the anguish which Hortense must endure at the hour when + Wenceslas was in the habit of making his appearance. + </p> + <p> + “Have you come to dinner?” asked the Baroness, concealing her + disappointment. + </p> + <p> + “Well, yes.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s well,” replied Hortense. “I will go and tell them to be punctual, + for you do not like to be kept waiting.” + </p> + <p> + Hortense nodded reassuringly to her mother, for she intended to tell the + man-servant to send away Monsieur Steinbock if he should call; the man, + however, happened to be out, so Hortense was obliged to give her orders to + the maid, and the girl went upstairs to fetch her needlework and sit in + the ante-room. + </p> + <p> + “And about my lover?” said Cousin Betty to Hortense, when the girl came + back. “You never ask about him now?” + </p> + <p> + “To be sure, what is he doing?” said Hortense. “He has become famous. You + ought to be very happy,” she added in an undertone to Lisbeth. “Everybody + is talking of Monsieur Wenceslas Steinbock.” + </p> + <p> + “A great deal too much,” replied she in her clear tones. “Monsieur is + departing.—If it were only a matter of charming him so far as to + defy the attractions of Paris, I know my power; but they say that in order + to secure the services of such an artist, the Emperor Nichols has pardoned + him——” + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense!” said the Baroness. + </p> + <p> + “When did you hear that?” asked Hortense, who felt as if her heart had the + cramp. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said the villainous Lisbeth, “a person to whom he is bound by the + most sacred ties—his wife—wrote yesterday to tell him so. He + wants to be off. Oh, he will be a great fool to give up France to go to + Russia!—” + </p> + <p> + Hortense looked at her mother, but her head sank on one side; the Baroness + was only just in time to support her daughter, who dropped fainting, and + as white as her lace kerchief. + </p> + <p> + “Lisbeth! you have killed my child!” cried the Baroness. “You were born to + be our curse!” + </p> + <p> + “Bless me! what fault of mine is this, Adeline?” replied Lisbeth, as she + rose with a menacing aspect, of which the Baroness, in her alarm, took no + notice. + </p> + <p> + “I was wrong,” said Adeline, supporting the girl. “Ring.” + </p> + <p> + At this instant the door opened, the women both looked round, and saw + Wenceslas Steinbock, who had been admitted by the cook in the maid’s + absence. + </p> + <p> + “Hortense!” cried the artist, with one spring to the group of women. And + he kissed his betrothed before her mother’s eyes, on the forehead, and so + reverently, that the Baroness could not be angry. It was a better + restorative than any smelling salts. Hortense opened her eyes, saw + Wenceslas, and her color came back. In a few minutes she had quite + recovered. + </p> + <p> + “So this was your secret?” said Lisbeth, smiling at Wenceslas, and + affecting to guess the facts from her two cousins’ confusion. + </p> + <p> + “But how did you steal away my lover?” said she, leading Hortense into the + garden. + </p> + <p> + Hortense artlessly told the romance of her love. Her father and mother, + she said, being convinced that Lisbeth would never marry, had authorized + the Count’s visits. Only Hortense, like a full-blown Agnes, attributed to + chance her purchase of the group and the introduction of the artist, who, + by her account, had insisted on knowing the name of his first purchaser. + </p> + <p> + Presently Steinbock came out to join the cousins, and thanked the old maid + effusively for his prompt release. Lisbeth replied Jesuitically that the + creditor having given very vague promises, she had not hoped to be able to + get him out before the morrow, and that the person who had lent her the + money, ashamed, perhaps, of such mean conduct, had been beforehand with + her. The old maid appeared to be perfectly content, and congratulated + Wenceslas on his happiness. + </p> + <p> + “You bad boy!” said she, before Hortense and her mother, “if you had only + told me the evening before last that you loved my cousin Hortense, and + that she loved you, you would have spared me many tears. I thought that + you were deserting your old friend, your governess; while, on the + contrary, you are to become my cousin; henceforth, you will be connected + with me, remotely, it is true, but by ties that amply justify the feelings + I have for you.” And she kissed Wenceslas on the forehead. + </p> + <p> + Hortense threw herself into Lisbeth’s arms and melted into tears. + </p> + <p> + “I owe my happiness to you,” said she, “and I will never forget it.” + </p> + <p> + “Cousin Betty,” said the Baroness, embracing Lisbeth in her excitement at + seeing matters so happily settled, “the Baron and I owe you a debt of + gratitude, and we will pay it. Come and talk things over with me,” she + added, leading her away. + </p> + <p> + So Lisbeth, to all appearances, was playing the part of a good angel to + the whole family; she was adored by Crevel and Hulot, by Adeline and + Hortense. + </p> + <p> + “We wish you to give up working,” said the Baroness. “If you earn forty + sous a day, Sundays excepted, that makes six hundred francs a year. Well, + then, how much have you saved?” + </p> + <p> + “Four thousand five hundred francs.” + </p> + <p> + “Poor Betty!” said her cousin. + </p> + <p> + She raised her eyes to heaven, so deeply was she moved at the thought of + all the labor and privation such a sum must represent accumulated during + thirty years. + </p> + <p> + Lisbeth, misunderstanding the meaning of the exclamation, took it as the + ironical pity of the successful woman, and her hatred was strengthened by + a large infusion of venom at the very moment when her cousin had cast off + her last shred of distrust of the tyrant of her childhood. + </p> + <p> + “We will add ten thousand five hundred francs to that sum,” said Adeline, + “and put it in trust so that you shall draw the interest for life with + reversion to Hortense. Thus, you will have six hundred francs a year.” + </p> + <p> + Lisbeth feigned the utmost satisfaction. When she went in, her + handkerchief to her eyes, wiping away tears of joy, Hortense told her of + all the favors being showered on Wenceslas, beloved of the family. + </p> + <p> + So when the Baron came home, he found his family all present; for the + Baroness had formally accepted Wenceslas by the title of Son, and the + wedding was fixed, if her husband should approve, for a day a fortnight + hence. The moment he came into the drawing-room, Hulot was rushed at by + his wife and daughter, who ran to meet him, Adeline to speak to him + privately, and Hortense to kiss him. + </p> + <p> + “You have gone too far in pledging me to this, madame,” said the Baron + sternly. “You are not married yet,” he added with a look at Steinbock, who + turned pale. + </p> + <p> + “He has heard of my imprisonment,” said the luckless artist to himself. + </p> + <p> + “Come, children,” said he, leading his daughter and the young man into the + garden; they all sat down on the moss-eaten seat in the summer-house. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur le Comte, do you love my daughter as well as I loved her + mother?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “More, monsieur,” said the sculptor. + </p> + <p> + “Her mother was a peasant’s daughter, and had not a farthing of her own.” + </p> + <p> + “Only give me Mademoiselle Hortense just as she is, without a trousseau + even——” + </p> + <p> + “So I should think!” said the Baron, smiling. “Hortense is the daughter of + the Baron Hulot d’Ervy, Councillor of State, high up in the War Office, + Grand Commander of the Legion of Honor, and the brother to Count Hulot, + whose glory is immortal, and who will ere long be Marshal of France! And—she + has a marriage portion. + </p> + <p> + “It is true,” said the impassioned artist. “I must seem very ambitious. + But if my dear Hortense were a laborer’s daughter, I would marry her——” + </p> + <p> + “That is just what I wanted to know,” replied the Baron. “Run away, + Hortense, and leave me to talk business with Monsieur le Comte.—He + really loves you, you see!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, papa, I was sure you were only in jest,” said the happy girl. + </p> + <p> + “My dear Steinbock,” said the Baron, with elaborate grace of diction and + the most perfect manners, as soon as he and the artist were alone, “I + promised my son a fortune of two hundred thousand francs, of which the + poor boy has never had a sou; and he never will get any of it. My + daughter’s fortune will also be two hundred thousand francs, for which you + will give a receipt——” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Monsieur le Baron.” + </p> + <p> + “You go too fast,” said Hulot. “Have the goodness to hear me out. I cannot + expect from a son-in-law such devotion as I look for from my son. My son + knew exactly all I could and would do for his future promotion: he will be + a Minister, and will easily make good his two hundred thousand francs. But + with you, young man, matters are different. I shall give you a bond for + sixty thousand francs in State funds at five per cent, in your wife’s + name. This income will be diminished by a small charge in the form of an + annuity to Lisbeth; but she will not live long; she is consumptive, I + know. Tell no one; it is a secret; let the poor soul die in peace.—My + daughter will have a trousseau worth twenty thousand francs; her mother + will give her six thousand francs worth of diamonds. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur, you overpower me!” said Steinbock, quite bewildered. + </p> + <p> + “As to the remaining hundred and twenty thousand francs——” + </p> + <p> + “Say no more, monsieur,” said Wenceslas. “I ask only for my beloved + Hortense——” + </p> + <p> + “Will you listen to me, effervescent youth!—As to the remaining + hundred and twenty thousand francs, I have not got them; but you will have + them—” + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur?” + </p> + <p> + “You will get them from the Government, in payment for commissions which I + will secure for you, I pledge you my word of honor. You are to have a + studio, you see, at the Government depot. Exhibit a few fine statues, and + I will get you received at the Institute. The highest personages have a + regard for my brother and for me, and I hope to succeed in securing for + you a commission for sculpture at Versailles up to a quarter of the whole + sum. You will have orders from the City of Paris and from the Chamber of + Peers; in short, my dear fellow, you will have so many that you will be + obliged to get assistants. In that way I shall pay off my debt to you. You + must say whether this way of giving a portion will suit you; whether you + are equal to it.” + </p> + <p> + “I am equal to making a fortune for my wife single-handed if all else + failed!” cried the artist-nobleman. + </p> + <p> + “That is what I admire!” cried the Baron. “High-minded youth that fears + nothing. Come,” he added, clasping hands with the young sculptor to + conclude the bargain, “you have my consent. We will sign the contract on + Sunday next, and the wedding shall be on the following Saturday, my wife’s + fete-day.” + </p> + <p> + “It is all right,” said the Baroness to her daughter, who stood glued to + the window. “Your suitor and your father are embracing each other.” + </p> + <p> + On going home in the evening, Wenceslas found the solution of the mystery + of his release. The porter handed him a thick sealed packet, containing + the schedule of his debts, with a signed receipt affixed at the bottom of + the writ, and accompanied by this letter:— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “MY DEAR WENCESLAS,—I went to fetch you at ten o’clock this + morning to introduce you to a Royal Highness who wishes to see + you. There I learned that the duns had had you conveyed to a + certain little domain—chief town, <i>Clichy Castle</i>. + + “So off I went to Leon de Lora, and told him, for a joke, that you + could not leave your country quarters for lack of four thousand + francs, and that you would spoil your future prospects if you did + not make your bow to your royal patron. Happily, Bridau was there + —a man of genius, who has known what it is to be poor, and has + heard your story. My boy, between them they have found the money, + and I went off to pay the Turk who committed treason against + genius by putting you in quod. As I had to be at the Tuileries at + noon, I could not wait to see you sniffing the outer air. I know + you to be a gentleman, and I answered for you to my two friends + —but look them up to-morrow. + + “Leon and Bridau do not want your cash; they will ask you to do + them each a group—and they are right. At least, so thinks the man + who wishes he could sign himself your rival, but is only your + faithful ally, + + “STIDMANN. + + “P. S.—I told the Prince you were away, and would not return till + to-morrow, so he said, ‘Very good—to-morrow.’” + </pre> + <p> + Count Wenceslas went to bed in sheets of purple, without a rose-leaf to + wrinkle them, that Favor can make for us—Favor, the halting divinity + who moves more slowly for men of genius than either Justice or Fortune, + because Jove has not chosen to bandage her eyes. Hence, lightly deceived + by the display of impostors, and attracted by their frippery and trumpets, + she spends the time in seeing them and the money in paying them which she + ought to devote to seeking out men of merit in the nooks where they hide. + </p> + <p> + It will now be necessary to explain how Monsieur le Baron Hulot had + contrived to count up his expenditure on Hortense’s wedding portion, and + at the same time to defray the frightful cost of the charming rooms where + Madame Marneffe was to make her home. His financial scheme bore that stamp + of talent which leads prodigals and men in love into the quagmires where + so many disasters await them. Nothing can demonstrate more completely the + strange capacity communicated by vice, to which we owe the strokes of + skill which ambitious or voluptuous men can occasionally achieve—or, + in short, any of the Devil’s pupils. + </p> + <p> + On the day before, old Johann Fischer, unable to pay thirty thousand + francs drawn for on him by his nephew, had found himself under the + necessity of stopping payment unless the Baron could remit the sum. + </p> + <p> + This ancient worthy, with the white hairs of seventy years, had such blind + confidence in Hulot—who, to the old Bonapartist, was an emanation + from the Napoleonic sun—that he was calmly pacing his anteroom with + the bank clerk, in the little ground-floor apartment that he rented for + eight hundred francs a year as the headquarters of his extensive dealings + in corn and forage. + </p> + <p> + “Marguerite is gone to fetch the money from close by,” said he. + </p> + <p> + The official, in his gray uniform braided with silver, was so convinced of + the old Alsatian’s honesty, that he was prepared to leave the thirty + thousand francs’ worth of bills in his hands; but the old man would not + let him go, observing that the clock had not yet struck eight. A cab drew + up, the old man rushed into the street, and held out his hand to the Baron + with sublime confidence—Hulot handed him out thirty thousand-franc + notes. + </p> + <p> + “Go on three doors further, and I will tell you why,” said Fischer. + </p> + <p> + “Here, young man,” he said, returning to count out the money to the bank + emissary, whom he then saw to the door. + </p> + <p> + When the clerk was out of sight, Fischer called back the cab containing + his august nephew, Napoleon’s right hand, and said, as he led him into the + house: + </p> + <p> + “You do not want them to know at the Bank of France that you paid me the + thirty thousand francs, after endorsing the bills?—It was bad enough + to see them signed by such a man as you!—” + </p> + <p> + “Come to the bottom of your little garden, Father Fischer,” said the + important man. “You are hearty?” he went on, sitting down under a vine + arbor and scanning the old man from head to foot, as a dealer in human + flesh scans a substitute for the conscription. + </p> + <p> + “Ay, hearty enough for a tontine,” said the lean little old man; his + sinews were wiry, and his eye bright. + </p> + <p> + “Does heat disagree with you?” + </p> + <p> + “Quite the contrary.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you say to Africa?” + </p> + <p> + “A very nice country!—The French went there with the little + Corporal” (Napoleon). + </p> + <p> + “To get us all out of the present scrape, you must go to Algiers,” said + the Baron. + </p> + <p> + “And how about my business?” + </p> + <p> + “An official in the War Office, who has to retire, and has not enough to + live on with his pension, will buy your business.” + </p> + <p> + “And what am I to do in Algiers?” + </p> + <p> + “Supply the Commissariat with victuals, corn, and forage; I have your + commission ready filled in and signed. You can collect supplies in the + country at seventy per cent below the prices at which you can credit us.” + </p> + <p> + “How shall we get them?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, by raids, by taxes in kind, and the Khaliphat.—The country is + little known, though we settled there eight years ago; Algeria produces + vast quantities of corn and forage. When this produce belongs to Arabs, we + take it from them under various pretences; when it belongs to us, the + Arabs try to get it back again. There is a great deal of fighting over the + corn, and no one ever knows exactly how much each party has stolen from + the other. There is not time in the open field to measure the corn as we + do in the Paris market, or the hay as it is sold in the Rue d’Enfer. The + Arab chiefs, like our Spahis, prefer hard cash, and sell the plunder at a + very low price. The Commissariat needs a fixed quantity and must have it. + It winks at exorbitant prices calculated on the difficulty of procuring + food, and the dangers to which every form of transport is exposed. That is + Algiers from the army contractor’s point of view. + </p> + <p> + “It is a muddle tempered by the ink-bottle, like every incipient + government. We shall not see our way through it for another ten years—we + who have to do the governing; but private enterprise has sharp eyes.—So + I am sending you there to make a fortune; I give you the job, as Napoleon + put an impoverished Marshal at the head of a kingdom where smuggling might + be secretly encouraged. + </p> + <p> + “I am ruined, my dear Fischer; I must have a hundred thousand francs + within a year.” + </p> + <p> + “I see no harm in getting it out of the Bedouins,” said the Alsatian + calmly. “It was always done under the Empire——” + </p> + <p> + “The man who wants to buy your business will be here this morning, and pay + you ten thousand francs down,” the Baron went on. “That will be enough, I + suppose, to take you to Africa?” + </p> + <p> + The old man nodded assent. + </p> + <p> + “As to capital out there, be quite easy. I will draw the remainder of the + money due if I find it necessary.” + </p> + <p> + “All I have is yours—my very blood,” said old Fischer. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, do not be uneasy,” said Hulot, fancying that his uncle saw more + clearly than was the fact. “As to our excise dealings, your character will + not be impugned. Everything depends on the authority at your back; now I + myself appointed the authorities out there; I am sure of them. This, Uncle + Fischer, is a dead secret between us. I know you well, and I have spoken + out without concealment or circumlocution.” + </p> + <p> + “It shall be done,” said the old man. “And it will go on——?” + </p> + <p> + “For two years, You will have made a hundred thousand francs of your own + to live happy on in the Vosges.” + </p> + <p> + “I will do as you wish; my honor is yours,” said the little old man + quietly. + </p> + <p> + “That is the sort of man I like.—However, you must not go till you + have seen your grand-niece happily married. She is to be a Countess.” + </p> + <p> + But even taxes and raids and the money paid by the War Office clerk for + Fischer’s business could not forthwith provide sixty thousand francs to + give Hortense, to say nothing of her trousseau, which was to cost about + five thousand, and the forty thousand spent—or to be spent—on + Madame Marneffe. + </p> + <p> + Where, then had the Baron found the thirty thousand francs he had just + produced? This was the history. + </p> + <p> + A few days previously Hulot had insured his life for the sum of a hundred + and fifty thousand francs, for three years, in two separate companies. + Armed with the policies, of which he paid the premium, he had spoken as + follows to the Baron de Nucingen, a peer of the Chamber, in whose carriage + he found himself after a sitting, driving home, in fact, to dine with him:— + </p> + <p> + “Baron, I want seventy thousand francs, and I apply to you. You must find + some one to lend his name, to whom I will make over the right to draw my + pay for three years; it amounts to twenty-five thousand francs a year—that + is, seventy-five thousand francs.—You will say, ‘But you may die’”—the + banker signified his assent—“Here, then, is a policy of insurance + for a hundred and fifty thousand francs, which I will deposit with you + till you have drawn up the eighty thousand francs,” said Hulot, producing + the document form his pocket. + </p> + <p> + “But if you should lose your place?” said the millionaire Baron, laughing. + </p> + <p> + The other Baron—not a millionaire—looked grave. + </p> + <p> + “Be quite easy; I only raised the question to show you that I was not + devoid of merit in handing you the sum. Are you so short of cash? for the + Bank will take your signature.” + </p> + <p> + “My daughter is to be married,” said Baron Hulot, “and I have no fortune—like + every one else who remains in office in these thankless times, when five + hundred ordinary men seated on benches will never reward the men who + devote themselves to the service as handsomely as the Emperor did.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, well; but you had Josepha on your hands!” replied Nucingen, “and + that accounts for everything. Between ourselves, the Duc d’Herouville has + done you a very good turn by removing that leech from sucking your purse + dry. ‘I have known what that is, and can pity your case,’” he quoted. + “Take a friend’s advice: Shut up shop, or you will be done for.” + </p> + <p> + This dirty business was carried out in the name of one Vauvinet, a small + money-lender; one of those jobbers who stand forward to screen great + banking houses, like the little fish that is said to attend the shark. + This stock-jobber’s apprentice was so anxious to gain the patronage of + Monsieur le Baron Hulot, that he promised the great man to negotiate bills + of exchange for thirty thousand francs at eighty days, and pledged himself + to renew them four times, and never pass them out of his hands. + </p> + <p> + Fischer’s successor was to pay forty thousand francs for the house and the + business, with the promise that he should supply forage to a department + close to Paris. + </p> + <p> + This was the desperate maze of affairs into which a man who had hitherto + been absolutely honest was led by his passions—one of the best + administrative officials under Napoleon—peculation to pay the + money-lenders, and borrowing of the money-lenders to gratify his passions + and provide for his daughter. All the efforts of this elaborate + prodigality were directed at making a display before Madame Marneffe, and + to playing Jupiter to this middle-class Danae. A man could not expend more + activity, intelligence, and presence of mind in the honest acquisition of + a fortune than the Baron displayed in shoving his head into a wasp’s nest: + He did all the business of his department, he hurried on the upholsterers, + he talked to the workmen, he kept a sharp lookout on the smallest details + of the house in the Rue Vanneau. Wholly devoted to Madame Marneffe, he + nevertheless attended the sittings of the Chambers; he was everywhere at + once, and neither his family nor anybody else discovered where his + thoughts were. + </p> + <p> + Adeline, quite amazed to hear that her uncle was rescued, and to see a + handsome sum figure in the marriage-contract, was not altogether easy, in + spite of her joy at seeing her daughter married under such creditable + circumstances. But, on the day before the wedding, fixed by the Baron to + coincide with Madame Marneffe’s removal to her new apartment, Hector + allayed his wife’s astonishment by this ministerial communication:— + </p> + <p> + “Now, Adeline, our girl is married; all our anxieties on the subject are + at an end. The time is come for us to retire from the world: I shall not + remain in office more than three years longer—only the time + necessary to secure my pension. Why, henceforth, should we be at any + unnecessary expense? Our apartment costs us six thousand francs a year in + rent, we have four servants, we eat thirty thousand francs’ worth of food + in a year. If you want me to pay off my bills—for I have pledged my + salary for the sums I needed to give Hortense her little money, and pay + off your uncle——” + </p> + <p> + “You did very right!” said she, interrupting her husband, and kissing his + hands. + </p> + <p> + This explanation relieved Adeline of all her fears. + </p> + <p> + “I shall have to ask some little sacrifices of you,” he went on, + disengaging his hands and kissing his wife’s brow. “I have found in the + Rue Plumet a very good flat on the first floor, handsome, splendidly + paneled, at only fifteen hundred francs a year, where you would only need + one woman to wait on you, and I could be quite content with a boy.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, my dear.” + </p> + <p> + “If we keep house in a quiet way, keeping up a proper appearance of + course, we should not spend more than six thousand francs a year, + excepting my private account, which I will provide for.” + </p> + <p> + The generous-hearted woman threw her arms round her husband’s neck in her + joy. + </p> + <p> + “How happy I shall be, beginning again to show you how truly I love you!” + she exclaimed. “And what a capital manager you are!” + </p> + <p> + “We will have the children to dine with us once a week. I, as you know, + rarely dine at home. You can very well dine twice a week with Victorin and + twice a week with Hortense. And, as I believe, I may succeed in making + matters up completely between Crevel and us; we can dine once a week with + him. These five dinners and our own at home will fill up the week all but + one day, supposing that we may occasionally be invited to dine elsewhere.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall save a great deal for you,” said Adeline. + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” he cried, “you are the pearl of women!” + </p> + <p> + “My kind, divine Hector, I shall bless you with my latest breath,” said + she, “for you have done well for my dear Hortense.” + </p> + <p> + This was the beginning of the end of the beautiful Madame Hulot’s home; + and, it may be added, of her being totally neglected, as Hulot had + solemnly promised Madame Marneffe. + </p> + <p> + Crevel, the important and burly, being invited as a matter of course to + the party given for the signing of the marriage-contract, behaved as + though the scene with which this drama opened had never taken place, as + though he had no grievance against the Baron. Celestin Crevel was quite + amiable; he was perhaps rather too much the ex-perfumer, but as a Major he + was beginning to acquire majestic dignity. He talked of dancing at the + wedding. + </p> + <p> + “Fair lady,” said he politely to the Baroness, “people like us know how to + forget. Do not banish me from your home; honor me, pray, by gracing my + house with your presence now and then to meet your children. Be quite + easy; I will never say anything of what lies buried at the bottom of my + heart. I behaved, indeed, like an idiot, for I should lose too much by + cutting myself off from seeing you.” + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur, an honest woman has no ears for such speeches as those you + refer to. If you keep your word, you need not doubt that it will give me + pleasure to see the end of a coolness which must always be painful in a + family.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, you sulky old fellow,” said Hulot, dragging Crevel out into the + garden, “you avoid me everywhere, even in my own house. Are two admirers + of the fair sex to quarrel for ever over a petticoat? Come; this is really + too plebeian!” + </p> + <p> + “I, monsieur, am not such a fine man as you are, and my small attractions + hinder me from repairing my losses so easily as you can——” + </p> + <p> + “Sarcastic!” said the Baron. + </p> + <p> + “Irony is allowable from the vanquished to the conquerer.” + </p> + <p> + The conversation, begun in this strain, ended in a complete + reconciliation; still Crevel maintained his right to take his revenge. + </p> + <p> + Madame Marneffe particularly wished to be invited to Mademoiselle Hulot’s + wedding. To enable him to receive his future mistress in his drawing-room, + the great official was obliged to invite all the clerks of his division + down to the deputy head-clerks inclusive. Thus a grand ball was a + necessity. The Baroness, as a prudent housewife, calculated that an + evening party would cost less than a dinner, and allow of a larger number + of invitations; so Hortense’s wedding was much talked about. + </p> + <p> + Marshal Prince Wissembourg and the Baron de Nucingen signed in behalf of + the bride, the Comtes de Rastignac and Popinot in behalf of Steinbock. + Then, as the highest nobility among the Polish emigrants had been civil to + Count Steinbock since he had become famous, the artist thought himself + bound to invite them. The State Council, and the War Office to which the + Baron belonged, and the army, anxious to do honor to the Comte de + Forzheim, were all represented by their magnates. There were nearly two + hundred indispensable invitations. How natural, then, that little Madame + Marneffe was bent on figuring in all her glory amid such an assembly. The + Baroness had, a month since, sold her diamonds to set up her daughter’s + house, while keeping the finest for the trousseau. The sale realized + fifteen thousand francs, of which five thousand were sunk in Hortense’s + clothes. And what was ten thousand francs for the furniture of the young + folks’ apartment, considering the demands of modern luxury? However, young + Monsieur and Madame Hulot, old Crevel, and the Comte de Forzheim made very + handsome presents, for the old soldier had set aside a sum for the + purchase of plate. Thanks to these contributions, even an exacting + Parisian would have been pleased with the rooms the young couple had taken + in the Rue Saint-Dominique, near the Invalides. Everything seemed in + harmony with their love, pure, honest, and sincere. + </p> + <p> + At last the great day dawned—for it was to be a great day not only + for Wenceslas and Hortense, but for old Hulot too. Madame Marneffe was to + give a house-warming in her new apartment the day after becoming Hulot’s + mistress <i>en titre</i>, and after the marriage of the lovers. + </p> + <p> + Who but has once in his life been a guest at a wedding-ball? Every reader + can refer to his reminiscences, and will probably smile as he calls up the + images of all that company in their Sunday-best faces as well as their + finest frippery. + </p> + <p> + If any social event can prove the influence of environment, is it not + this? In fact, the Sunday-best mood of some reacts so effectually on the + rest that the men who are most accustomed to wearing full dress look just + like those to whom the party is a high festival, unique in their life. And + think too of the serious old men to whom such things are so completely a + matter of indifference, that they are wearing their everyday black coats; + the long-married men, whose faces betray their sad experience of the life + the young pair are but just entering on; and the lighter elements, present + as carbonic-acid gas is in champagne; and the envious girls, the women + absorbed in wondering if their dress is a success, the poor relations + whose parsimonious “get-up” contrasts with that of the officials in + uniform; and the greedy ones, thinking only of the supper; and the + gamblers, thinking only of cards. + </p> + <p> + There are some of every sort, rich and poor, envious and envied, + philosophers and dreamers, all grouped like the plants in a flower-bed + round the rare, choice blossom, the bride. A wedding-ball is an epitome of + the world. + </p> + <p> + At the liveliest moment of the evening Crevel led the Baron aside, and + said in a whisper, with the most natural manner possible: + </p> + <p> + “By Jove! that’s a pretty woman—the little lady in pink who has + opened a racking fire on you from her eyes.” + </p> + <p> + “Which?” + </p> + <p> + “The wife of that clerk you are promoting, heaven knows how!—Madame + Marneffe.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you know about it?” + </p> + <p> + “Listen, Hulot; I will try to forgive you the ill you have done me if only + you will introduce me to her—I will take you to Heloise. Everybody + is asking who is that charming creature. Are you sure that it will strike + no one how and why her husband’s appointment got itself signed?—You + happy rascal, she is worth a whole office.—I would serve in her + office only too gladly.—Come, cinna, let us be friends.” + </p> + <p> + “Better friends than ever,” said the Baron to the perfumer, “and I promise + you I will be a good fellow. Within a month you shall dine with that + little angel.—For it is an angel this time, old boy. And I advise + you, like me, to have done with the devils.” + </p> + <p> + Cousin Betty, who had moved to the Rue Vanneau, into a nice little + apartment on the third floor, left the ball at ten o’clock, but came back + to see with her own eyes the two bonds bearing twelve hundred francs + interest; one of them was the property of the Countess Steinbock, the + other was in the name of Madame Hulot. + </p> + <p> + It is thus intelligible that Monsieur Crevel should have spoken to Hulot + about Madame Marneffe, as knowing what was a secret to the rest of the + world; for, as Monsieur Marneffe was away, no one but Lisbeth Fischer, + besides the Baron and Valerie, was initiated into the mystery. + </p> + <p> + The Baron had made a blunder in giving Madame Marneffe a dress far too + magnificent for the wife of a subordinate official; other women were + jealous alike of her beauty and of her gown. There was much whispering + behind fans, for the poverty of the Marneffes was known to every one in + the office; the husband had been petitioning for help at the very moment + when the Baron had been so smitten with madame. Also, Hector could not + conceal his exultation at seeing Valerie’s success; and she, severely + proper, very lady-like, and greatly envied, was the object of that strict + examination which women so greatly fear when they appear for the first + time in a new circle of society. + </p> + <p> + After seeing his wife into a carriage with his daughter and his + son-in-law, Hulot managed to escape unperceived, leaving his son and + Celestine to do the honors of the house. He got into Madame Marneffe’s + carriage to see her home, but he found her silent and pensive, almost + melancholy. + </p> + <p> + “My happiness makes you very sad, Valerie,” said he, putting his arm round + her and drawing her to him. + </p> + <p> + “Can you wonder, my dear,” said she, “that a hapless woman should be a + little depressed at the thought of her first fall from virtue, even when + her husband’s atrocities have set her free? Do you suppose that I have no + soul, no beliefs, no religion? Your glee this evening has been really too + barefaced; you have paraded me odiously. Really, a schoolboy would have + been less of a coxcomb. And the ladies have dissected me with their + side-glances and their satirical remarks. Every woman has some care for + her reputation, and you have wrecked mine. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I am yours and no mistake! And I have not an excuse left but that of + being faithful to you.—Monster that you are!” she added, laughing, + and allowing him to kiss her, “you knew very well what you were doing! + Madame Coquet, our chief clerk’s wife, came to sit down by me, and admired + my lace. ‘English point!’ said she. ‘Was it very expensive, madame?’—‘I + do not know. This lace was my mother’s. I am not rich enough to buy the + like,’ said I.” + </p> + <p> + Madame Marneffe, in short, had so bewitched the old beau, that he really + believed she was sinning for the first time for his sake, and that he had + inspired such a passion as had led her to this breach of duty. She told + him that the wretch Marneffe had neglected her after they had been three + days married, and for the most odious reasons. Since then she had lived as + innocently as a girl; marriage had seemed to her so horrible. This was the + cause of her present melancholy. + </p> + <p> + “If love should prove to be like marriage——” said she in + tears. + </p> + <p> + These insinuating lies, with which almost every woman in Valerie’s + predicament is ready, gave the Baron distant visions of the roses of the + seventh heaven. And so Valerie coquetted with her lover, while the artist + and Hortense were impatiently awaiting the moment when the Baroness should + have given the girl her last kiss and blessing. + </p> + <p> + At seven in the morning the Baron, perfectly happy—for his Valerie + was at once the most guileless of girls and the most consummate of demons—went + back to release his son and Celestine from their duties. All the dancers, + for the most part strangers, had taken possession of the territory, as + they do at every wedding-ball, and were keeping up the endless figures of + the cotillions, while the gamblers were still crowding round the <i>bouillotte</i> + tables, and old Crevel had won six thousand francs. + </p> + <p> + The morning papers, carried round the town, contained this paragraph in + the Paris article:— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “The marriage was celebrated this morning, at the Church of + Saint-Thomas d’Aquin, between Monsieur le Comte Steinbock and + Mademoiselle Hortense Hulot, daughter of Baron Hulot d’Ervy, + Councillor of State, and a Director at the War Office; niece of + the famous General Comte de Forzheim. The ceremony attracted a + large gathering. There were present some of the most distinguished + artists of the day: Leon de Lora, Joseph Bridau, Stidmann, and + Bixiou; the magnates of the War Office, of the Council of State, + and many members of the two Chambers; also the most distinguished + of the Polish exiles living in Paris: Counts Paz, Laginski, and + others. + + “Monsieur le Comte Wenceslas Steinbock is grandnephew to the + famous general who served under Charles XII., King of Sweden. The + young Count, having taken part in the Polish rebellion, found a + refuge in France, where his well-earned fame as a sculptor has + procured him a patent of naturalization.” + </pre> + <p> + And so, in spite of the Baron’s cruel lack of money, nothing was lacking + that public opinion could require, not even the trumpeting of the + newspapers over his daughter’s marriage, which was solemnized in the same + way, in every particular, as his son’s had been to Mademoiselle Crevel. + This display moderated the reports current as to the Baron’s financial + position, while the fortune assigned to his daughter explained the need + for having borrowed money. + </p> + <p> + Here ends what is, in a way, the introduction to this story. It is to the + drama that follows that the premise is to a syllogism, what the prologue + is to a classical tragedy. + </p> + <p> + In Paris, when a woman determines to make a business, a trade, of her + beauty, it does not follow that she will make a fortune. Lovely creatures + may be found there, and full of wit, who are in wretched circumstances, + ending in misery a life begun in pleasure. And this is why. It is not + enough merely to accept the shameful life of a courtesan with a view to + earning its profits, and at the same time to bear the simple garb of a + respectable middle-class wife. Vice does not triumph so easily; it + resembles genius in so far that they both need a concurrence of favorable + conditions to develop the coalition of fortune and gifts. Eliminate the + strange prologue of the Revolution, and the Emperor would never have + existed; he would have been no more than a second edition of Fabert. Venal + beauty, if it finds no amateurs, no celebrity, no cross of dishonor earned + by squandering men’s fortunes, is Correggio in a hay-loft, is genius + starving in a garret. Lais, in Paris, must first and foremost find a rich + man mad enough to pay her price. She must keep up a very elegant style, + for this is her shop-sign; she must be sufficiently well bred to flatter + the vanity of her lovers; she must have the brilliant wit of a Sophie + Arnould, which diverts the apathy of rich men; finally, she must arouse + the passions of libertines by appearing to be mistress to one man only who + is envied by the rest. + </p> + <p> + These conditions, which a woman of that class calls being in luck, are + difficult to combine in Paris, although it is a city of millionaires, of + idlers, of used-up and capricious men. + </p> + <p> + Providence has, no doubt, vouchsafed protection to clerks and middle-class + citizens, for whom obstacles of this kind are at least double in the + sphere in which they move. At the same time, there are enough Madame + Marneffes in Paris to allow of our taking Valerie to figure as a type in + this picture of manners. Some of these women yield to the double pressure + of a genuine passion and of hard necessity, like Madame Colleville, who + was for long attached to one of the famous orators of the left, Keller the + banker. Others are spurred by vanity, like Madame de la Baudraye, who + remained almost respectable in spite of her elopement with Lousteau. Some, + again, are led astray by the love of fine clothes, and some by the + impossibility of keeping a house going on obviously too narrow means. The + stinginess of the State—or of Parliament—leads to many + disasters and to much corruption. + </p> + <p> + At the present moment the laboring classes are the fashionable object of + compassion; they are being murdered—it is said—by the + manufacturing capitalist; but the Government is a hundred times harder + than the meanest tradesman, it carries its economy in the article of + salaries to absolute folly. If you work harder, the merchant will pay you + more in proportion; but what does the State do for its crowd of obscure + and devoted toilers? + </p> + <p> + In a married woman it is an inexcusable crime when she wanders from the + path of honor; still, there are degrees even in such a case. Some women, + far from being depraved, conceal their fall and remain to all appearances + quite respectable, like those two just referred to, while others add to + their fault the disgrace of speculation. Thus Madame Marneffe is, as it + were, the type of those ambitious married courtesans who from the first + accept depravity with all its consequences, and determine to make a + fortune while taking their pleasure, perfectly unscrupulous as to the + means. But almost always a woman like Madame Marneffe has a husband who is + her confederate and accomplice. These Machiavellis in petticoats are the + most dangerous of the sisterhood; of every evil class of Parisian woman, + they are the worst. + </p> + <p> + A mere courtesan—a Josepha, a Malaga, a Madame Schontz, a Jenny + Cadine—carries in her frank dishonor a warning signal as conspicuous + as the red lamp of a house of ill-fame or the flaring lights of a gambling + hell. A man knows that they light him to his ruin. + </p> + <p> + But mealy-mouthed propriety, the semblance of virtue, the hypocritical + ways of a married woman who never allows anything to be seen but the + vulgar needs of the household, and affects to refuse every kind of + extravagance, leads to silent ruin, dumb disaster, which is all the more + startling because, though condoned, it remains unaccounted for. It is the + ignoble bill of daily expenses and not gay dissipation that devours the + largest fortune. The father of a family ruins himself ingloriously, and + the great consolation of gratified vanity is wanting in his misery. + </p> + <p> + This little sermon will go like a javelin to the heart of many a home. + Madame Marneffes are to be seen in every sphere of social life, even at + Court; for Valerie is a melancholy fact, modeled from the life in the + smallest details. And, alas! the portrait will not cure any man of the + folly of loving these sweetly-smiling angels, with pensive looks and + candid faces, whose heart is a cash-box. + </p> + <p> + About three years after Hortense’s marriage, in 1841, Baron Hulot d’Ervy + was supposed to have sown his wild oats, to have “put up his horses,” to + quote the expression used by Louis XV.‘s head surgeon, and yet Madame + Marneffe was costing him twice as much as Josepha had ever cost him. + Still, Valerie, though always nicely dressed, affected the simplicity of a + subordinate official’s wife; she kept her luxury for her dressing-gowns, + her home wear. She thus sacrificed her Parisian vanity to her dear Hector. + At the theatre, however, she always appeared in a pretty bonnet and a + dress of extreme elegance; and the Baron took her in a carriage to a + private box. + </p> + <p> + Her rooms, the whole of the second floor of a modern house in the Rue + Vanneau, between a fore-court and a garden, was redolent of + respectability. All its luxury was in good chintz hangings and handsome + convenient furniture. + </p> + <p> + Her bedroom, indeed, was the exception, and rich with such profusion as + Jenny Cadine or Madame Schontz might have displayed. There were lace + curtains, cashmere hangings, brocade portieres, a set of chimney ornaments + modeled by Stidmann, a glass cabinet filled with dainty nicknacks. Hulot + could not bear to see his Valerie in a bower of inferior magnificence to + the dunghill of gold and pearls owned by a Josepha. The drawing-room was + furnished with red damask, and the dining-room had carved oak panels. But + the Baron, carried away by his wish to have everything in keeping, had at + the end of six months, added solid luxury to mere fashion, and had given + her handsome portable property, as, for instance, a service of plate that + was to cost more than twenty-four thousand francs. + </p> + <p> + Madame Marneffe’s house had in a couple of years achieved a reputation for + being a very pleasant one. Gambling went on there. Valerie herself was + soon spoken of as an agreeable and witty woman. To account for her change + of style, a rumor was set going of an immense legacy bequeathed to her by + her “natural father,” Marshal Montcornet, and left in trust. + </p> + <p> + With an eye to the future, Valerie had added religious to social + hypocrisy. Punctual at the Sunday services, she enjoyed all the honors due + to the pious. She carried the bag for the offertory, she was a member of a + charitable association, presented bread for the sacrament, and did some + good among the poor, all at Hector’s expense. Thus everything about the + house was extremely seemly. And a great many persons maintained that her + friendship with the Baron was entirely innocent, supporting the view by + the gentleman’s mature age, and ascribing to him a Platonic liking for + Madame Marneffe’s pleasant wit, charming manners, and conversation—such + a liking as that of the late lamented Louis XVIII. for a well-turned note. + </p> + <p> + The Baron always withdrew with the other company at about midnight, and + came back a quarter of an hour later. + </p> + <p> + The secret of this secrecy was as follows. The lodge-keepers of the house + were a Monsieur and Madame Olivier, who, under the Baron’s patronage, had + been promoted from their humble and not very lucrative post in the Rue du + Doyenne to the highly-paid and handsome one in the Rue Vanneau. Now, + Madame Olivier, formerly a needlewoman in the household of Charles X., who + had fallen in the world with the legitimate branch, had three children. + The eldest, an under-clerk in a notary’s office, was object of his + parents’ adoration. This Benjamin, for six years in danger of being drawn + for the army, was on the point of being interrupted in his legal career, + when Madame Marneffe contrived to have him declared exempt for one of + those little malformations which the Examining Board can always discern + when requested in a whisper by some power in the ministry. So Olivier, + formerly a huntsman to the King, and his wife would have crucified the + Lord again for the Baron or for Madame Marneffe. + </p> + <p> + What could the world have to say? It knew nothing of the former episode of + the Brazilian, Monsieur Montes de Montejanos—it could say nothing. + Besides, the world is very indulgent to the mistress of a house where + amusement is to be found. + </p> + <p> + And then to all her charms Valerie added the highly-prized advantage of + being an occult power. Claude Vignon, now secretary to Marshal the Prince + de Wissembourg, and dreaming of promotion to the Council of State as a + Master of Appeals, was constantly seen in her rooms, to which came also + some Deputies—good fellows and gamblers. Madame Marneffe had got her + circle together with prudent deliberation; only men whose opinions and + habits agreed foregathered there, men whose interest it was to hold + together and to proclaim the many merits of the lady of the house. Scandal + is the true Holy Alliance in Paris. Take that as an axiom. Interests + invariably fall asunder in the end; vicious natures can always agree. + </p> + <p> + Within three months of settling in the Rue Vanneau, Madame Marneffe had + entertained Monsieur Crevel, who by that time was Mayor of his <i>arrondissement</i> + and Officer of the Legion of Honor. Crevel had hesitated; he would have to + give up the famous uniform of the National Guard in which he strutted at + the Tuileries, believing himself quite as much a soldier as the Emperor + himself; but ambition, urged by Madame Marneffe, had proved stronger than + vanity. Then Monsieur le Maire had considered his connection with + Mademoiselle Heloise Brisetout as quite incompatible with his political + position. + </p> + <p> + Indeed, long before his accession to the civic chair of the Mayoralty, his + gallant intimacies had been wrapped in the deepest mystery. But, as the + reader may have guessed, Crevel had soon purchased the right of taking his + revenge, as often as circumstances allowed, for having been bereft of + Josepha, at the cost of a bond bearing six thousand francs of interest in + the name of Valerie Fortin, wife of Sieur Marneffe, for her sole and + separate use. Valerie, inheriting perhaps from her mother the special + acumen of the kept woman, read the character of her grotesque adorer at a + glance. The phrase “I never had a lady for a mistress,” spoken by Crevel + to Lisbeth, and repeated by Lisbeth to her dear Valerie, had been + handsomely discounted in the bargain by which she got her six thousand + francs a year in five per cents. And since then she had never allowed her + prestige to grow less in the eyes of Cesar Birotteau’s erewhile bagman. + </p> + <p> + Crevel himself had married for money the daughter of a miller of la Brie, + an only child indeed, whose inheritance constituted three-quarters of his + fortune; for when retail-dealers grow rich, it is generally not so much by + trade as through some alliance between the shop and rural thrift. A large + proportion of the farmers, corn-factors, dairy-keepers, and + market-gardeners in the neighborhood of Paris, dream of the glories of the + desk for their daughters, and look upon a shopkeeper, a jeweler, or a + money-changer as a son-in-law after their own heart, in preference to a + notary or an attorney, whose superior social position is a ground of + suspicion; they are afraid of being scorned in the future by these citizen + bigwigs. + </p> + <p> + Madame Crevel, ugly, vulgar, and silly, had given her husband no pleasures + but those of paternity; she died young. Her libertine husband, fettered at + the beginning of his commercial career by the necessity for working, and + held in thrall by want of money, had led the life of Tantalus. Thrown in—as + he phrased it—with the most elegant women in Paris, he let them out + of the shop with servile homage, while admiring their grace, their way of + wearing the fashions, and all the nameless charms of what is called + breeding. To rise to the level of one of these fairies of the drawing-room + was a desire formed in his youth, but buried in the depths of his heart. + Thus to win the favors of Madame Marneffe was to him not merely the + realization of his chimera, but, as has been shown, a point of pride, of + vanity, of self-satisfaction. His ambition grew with success; his brain + was turned with elation; and when the mind is captivated, the heart feels + more keenly, every gratification is doubled. + </p> + <p> + Also, it must be said that Madame Marneffe offered to Crevel a refinement + of pleasure of which he had no idea; neither Josepha nor Heloise had loved + him; and Madame Marneffe thought it necessary to deceive him thoroughly, + for this man, she saw, would prove an inexhaustible till. The deceptions + of a venal passion are more delightful than the real thing. True love is + mixed up with birdlike squabbles, in which the disputants wound each other + to the quick; but a quarrel without animus is, on the contrary, a piece of + flattery to the dupe’s conceit. + </p> + <p> + The rare interviews granted to Crevel kept his passion at white heat. He + was constantly blocked by Valerie’s virtuous severity; she acted remorse, + and wondered what her father must be thinking of her in the paradise of + the brave. Again and again he had to contend with a sort of coldness, + which the cunning slut made him believe he had overcome by seeming to + surrender to the man’s crazy passion; and then, as if ashamed, she + entrenched herself once more in her pride of respectability and airs of + virtue, just like an Englishwoman, neither more nor less; and she always + crushed her Crevel under the weight of her dignity—for Crevel had, + in the first instance, swallowed her pretensions to virtue. + </p> + <p> + In short, Valerie had special veins of affections which made her equally + indispensable to Crevel and to the Baron. Before the world she displayed + the attractive combination of modest and pensive innocence, of + irreproachable propriety, with a bright humor enhanced by the suppleness, + the grace and softness of the Creole; but in a <i>tete-a-tete</i> she + would outdo any courtesan; she was audacious, amusing, and full of + original inventiveness. Such a contrast is irresistible to a man of the + Crevel type; he is flattered by believing himself sole author of the + comedy, thinking it is performed for his benefit alone, and he laughs at + the exquisite hypocrisy while admiring the hypocrite. + </p> + <p> + Valerie had taken entire possession of Baron Hulot; she had persuaded him + to grow old by one of those subtle touches of flattery which reveal the + diabolical wit of women like her. In all evergreen constitutions a moment + arrives when the truth suddenly comes out, as in a besieged town which + puts a good face on affairs as long as possible. Valerie, foreseeing the + approaching collapse of the old beau of the Empire, determined to + forestall it. + </p> + <p> + “Why give yourself so much bother, my dear old veteran?” said she one day, + six months after their doubly adulterous union. “Do you want to be + flirting? To be unfaithful to me? I assure you, I should like you better + without your make-up. Oblige me by giving up all your artificial charms. + Do you suppose that it is for two sous’ worth of polish on your boots that + I love you? For your india-rubber belt, your strait-waistcoat, and your + false hair? And then, the older you look, the less need I fear seeing my + Hulot carried off by a rival.” + </p> + <p> + And Hulot, trusting to Madame Marneffe’s heavenly friendship as much as to + her love, intending, too, to end his days with her, had taken this + confidential hint, and ceased to dye his whiskers and hair. After this + touching declaration from his Valerie, handsome Hector made his appearance + one morning perfectly white. Madame Marneffe could assure him that she had + a hundred times detected the white line of the growth of the hair. + </p> + <p> + “And white hair suits your face to perfection,” said she; “it softens it. + You look a thousand times better, quite charming.” + </p> + <p> + The Baron, once started on this path of reform, gave up his leather + waistcoat and stays; he threw off all his bracing. His stomach fell and + increased in size. The oak became a tower, and the heaviness of his + movements was all the more alarming because the Baron grew immensely older + by playing the part of Louis XII. His eyebrows were still black, and left + a ghostly reminiscence of Handsome Hulot, as sometimes on the wall of some + feudal building a faint trace of sculpture remains to show what the castle + was in the days of its glory. This discordant detail made his eyes, still + bright and youthful, all the more remarkable in his tanned face, because + it had so long been ruddy with the florid hues of a Rubens; and now a + certain discoloration and the deep tension of the wrinkles betrayed the + efforts of a passion at odds with natural decay. Hulot was now one of + those stalwart ruins in which virile force asserts itself by tufts of hair + in the ears and nostrils and on the fingers, as moss grows on the almost + eternal monuments of the Roman Empire. + </p> + <p> + How had Valerie contrived to keep Crevel and Hulot side by side, each tied + to an apron-string, when the vindictive Mayor only longed to triumph + openly over Hulot? Without immediately giving an answer to this question, + which the course of the story will supply, it may be said that Lisbeth and + Valerie had contrived a powerful piece of machinery which tended to this + result. Marneffe, as he saw his wife improved in beauty by the setting in + which she was enthroned, like the sun at the centre of the sidereal + system, appeared, in the eyes of the world, to have fallen in love with + her again himself; he was quite crazy about her. Now, though his jealousy + made him somewhat of a marplot, it gave enhanced value to Valerie’s + favors. Marneffe meanwhile showed a blind confidence in his chief, which + degenerated into ridiculous complaisance. The only person whom he really + would not stand was Crevel. + </p> + <p> + Marneffe, wrecked by the debauchery of great cities, described by Roman + authors, though modern decency has no name for it, was as hideous as an + anatomical figure in wax. But this disease on feet, clothed in good + broadcloth, encased his lathlike legs in elegant trousers. The hollow + chest was scented with fine linen, and musk disguised the odors of rotten + humanity. This hideous specimen of decaying vice, trotting in red heels—for + Valerie dressed the man as beseemed his income, his cross, and his + appointment—horrified Crevel, who could not meet the colorless eyes + of the Government clerk. Marneffe was an incubus to the Mayor. And the + mean rascal, aware of the strange power conferred on him by Lisbeth and + his wife, was amused by it; he played on it as on an instrument; and cards + being the last resource of a mind as completely played out as the body, he + plucked Crevel again and again, the Mayor thinking himself bound to + subserviency to the worthy official whom <i>he was cheating</i>. + </p> + <p> + Seeing Crevel a mere child in the hands of that hideous and atrocious + mummy, of whose utter vileness the Mayor knew nothing; and seeing him, yet + more, an object of deep contempt to Valerie, who made game of Crevel as of + some mountebank, the Baron apparently thought him so impossible as a rival + that he constantly invited him to dinner. + </p> + <p> + Valerie, protected by two lovers on guard, and by a jealous husband, + attracted every eye, and excited every desire in the circle she shone + upon. And thus, while keeping up appearances, she had, in the course of + three years, achieved the most difficult conditions of the success a + courtesan most cares for and most rarely attains, even with the help of + audacity and the glitter of an existence in the light of the sun. + Valerie’s beauty, formerly buried in the mud of the Rue du Doyenne, now, + like a well-cut diamond exquisitely set by Chanor, was worth more than its + real value—it could break hearts. Claude Vignon adored Valerie in + secret. + </p> + <p> + This retrospective explanation, quite necessary after the lapse of three + years, shows Valerie’s balance-sheet. Now for that of her partner, + Lisbeth. + </p> + <p> + Lisbeth Fischer filled the place in the Marneffe household of a relation + who combines the functions of a lady companion and a housekeeper; but she + suffered from none of the humiliations which, for the most part, weigh + upon the women who are so unhappy as to be obliged to fill these ambiguous + situations. Lisbeth and Valerie offered the touching spectacle of one of + those friendships between women, so cordial and so improbable, that men, + always too keen-tongued in Paris, forthwith slander them. The contrast + between Lisbeth’s dry masculine nature and Valerie’s creole prettiness + encouraged calumny. And Madame Marneffe had unconsciously given weight to + the scandal by the care she took of her friend, with matrimonial views, + which were, as will be seen, to complete Lisbeth’s revenge. + </p> + <p> + An immense change had taken place in Cousin Betty; and Valerie, who wanted + to smarten her, had turned it to the best account. The strange woman had + submitted to stays, and laced tightly, she used bandoline to keep her hair + smooth, wore her gowns as the dressmaker sent them home, neat little + boots, and gray silk stockings, all of which were included in Valerie’s + bills, and paid for by the gentleman in possession. Thus furbished up, and + wearing the yellow cashmere shawl, Lisbeth would have been unrecognizable + by any one who had not seen her for three years. + </p> + <p> + This other diamond—a black diamond, the rarest of all—cut by a + skilled hand, and set as best became her, was appreciated at her full + value by certain ambitious clerks. Any one seeing her for the first time + might have shuddered involuntarily at the look of poetic wildness which + the clever Valerie had succeeded in bringing out by the arts of dress in + this Bleeding Nun, framing the ascetic olive face in thick bands of hair + as black as the fiery eyes, and making the most of the rigid, slim figure. + Lisbeth, like a Virgin by Cranach or Van Eyck, or a Byzantine Madonna + stepped out of its frame, had all the stiffness, the precision of those + mysterious figures, the more modern cousins of Isis and her sister + goddesses sheathed in marble folds by Egyptian sculptors. It was granite, + basalt, porphyry, with life and movement. + </p> + <p> + Saved from want for the rest of her life, Lisbeth was most amiable; + wherever she dined she brought merriment. And the Baron paid the rent of + her little apartment, furnished, as we know, with the leavings of her + friend Valerie’s former boudoir and bedroom. + </p> + <p> + “I began,” she would say, “as a hungry nanny goat, and I am ending as a <i>lionne</i>.” + </p> + <p> + She still worked for Monsieur Rivet at the more elaborate kinds of + gold-trimming, merely, as she said, not to lose her time. At the same + time, she was, as we shall see, very full of business; but it is inherent + in the nature of country-folks never to give up bread-winning; in this + they are like the Jews. + </p> + <p> + Every morning, very early, Cousin Betty went off to market with the cook. + It was part of Lisbeth’s scheme that the house-book, which was ruining + Baron Hulot, was to enrich her dear Valerie—as it did indeed. + </p> + <p> + Is there a housewife who, since 1838, has not suffered from the evil + effects of Socialist doctrines diffused among the lower classes by + incendiary writers? In every household the plague of servants is nowadays + the worst of financial afflictions. With very few exceptions, who ought to + be rewarded with the Montyon prize, the cook, male or female, is a + domestic robber, a thief taking wages, and perfectly barefaced, with the + Government for a fence, developing the tendency to dishonesty, which is + almost authorized in the cook by the time-honored jest as to the “handle + of the basket.” The women who formerly picked up their forty sous to buy a + lottery ticket now take fifty francs to put into the savings bank. And the + smug Puritans who amuse themselves in France with philanthropic + experiments fancy that they are making the common people moral! + </p> + <p> + Between the market and the master’s table the servants have their secret + toll, and the municipality of Paris is less sharp in collecting the + city-dues than the servants are in taking theirs on every single thing. To + say nothing of fifty per cent charged on every form of food, they demand + large New Year’s premiums from the tradesmen. The best class of dealers + tremble before this occult power, and subsidize it without a word—coachmakers, + jewelers, tailors, and all. If any attempt is made to interfere with them, + the servants reply with impudent retorts, or revenge themselves by the + costly blunders of assumed clumsiness; and in these days they inquire into + their master’s character as, formerly, the master inquired into theirs. + This mischief is now really at its height, and the law-courts are + beginning to take cognizance of it; but in vain, for it cannot be remedied + but by a law which shall compel domestic servants, like laborers, to have + a pass-book as a guarantee of conduct. Then the evil will vanish as if by + magic. If every servant were obliged to show his pass-book, and if masters + were required to state in it the cause of his dismissal, this would + certainly prove a powerful check to the evil. + </p> + <p> + The men who are giving their attentions to the politics of the day know + not to what lengths the depravity of the lower classes has gone. + Statistics are silent as to the startling number of working men of twenty + who marry cooks of between forty and fifty enriched by robbery. We shudder + to think of the result of such unions from the three points of view of + increasing crime, degeneracy of the race, and miserable households. + </p> + <p> + As to the mere financial mischief that results from domestic peculation, + that too is immense from a political point of view. Life being made to + cost double, any superfluity becomes impossible in most households. Now + superfluity means half the trade of the world, as it is half the elegance + of life. Books and flowers are to many persons as necessary as bread. + </p> + <p> + Lisbeth, well aware of this dreadful scourge of Parisian households, + determined to manage Valerie’s, promising her every assistance in the + terrible scene when the two women had sworn to be like sisters. So she had + brought from the depths of the Vosges a humble relation on her mother’s + side, a very pious and honest soul, who had been cook to the Bishop of + Nancy. Fearing, however, her inexperience of Paris ways, and yet more the + evil counsel which wrecks such fragile virtue, at first Lisbeth always + went to market with Mathurine, and tried to teach her what to buy. To know + the real prices of things and command the salesman’s respect; to purchase + unnecessary delicacies, such as fish, only when they were cheap; to be + well informed as to the price current of groceries and provisions, so as + to buy when prices are low in anticipation of a rise,—all this + housekeeping skill is in Paris essential to domestic economy. As Mathurine + got good wages and many presents, she liked the house well enough to be + glad to drive good bargains. And by this time Lisbeth had made her quite a + match for herself, sufficiently experienced and trustworthy to be sent to + market alone, unless Valerie was giving a dinner—which, in fact, was + not unfrequently the case. And this was how it came about. + </p> + <p> + The Baron had at first observed the strictest decorum; but his passion for + Madame Marneffe had ere long become so vehement, so greedy, that he would + never quit her if he could help it. At first he dined there four times a + week; then he thought it delightful to dine with her every day. Six months + after his daughter’s marriage he was paying her two thousand francs a + month for his board. Madame Marneffe invited any one her dear Baron wished + to entertain. The dinner was always arranged for six; he could bring in + three unexpected guests. Lisbeth’s economy enabled her to solve the + extraordinary problem of keeping up the table in the best style for a + thousand francs a month, giving the other thousand to Madame Marneffe. + Valerie’s dress being chiefly paid for by Crevel and the Baron, the two + women saved another thousand francs a month on this. + </p> + <p> + And so this pure and innocent being had already accumulated a hundred and + fifty thousand francs in savings. She had capitalized her income and + monthly bonus, and swelled the amount by enormous interest, due to + Crevel’s liberality in allowing his “little Duchess” to invest her money + in partnership with him in his financial operations. Crevel had taught + Valerie the slang and the procedure of the money market, and, like every + Parisian woman, she had soon outstripped her master. Lisbeth, who never + spent a sou of her twelve hundred francs, whose rent and dress were given + to her, and who never put her hand in her pocket, had likewise a small + capital of five or six thousand francs, of which Crevel took fatherly + care. + </p> + <p> + At the same time, two such lovers were a heavy burthen on Valerie. On the + day when this drama reopens, Valerie, spurred by one of those incidents + which have the effect in life that the ringing of a bell has in inducing a + swarm of bees to settle, went up to Lisbeth’s rooms to give vent to one of + those comforting lamentations—a sort of cigarette blown off from the + tongue—by which women alleviate the minor miseries of life. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Lisbeth, my love, two hours of Crevel this morning! It is crushing! + How I wish I could send you in my place!” + </p> + <p> + “That, unluckily, is impossible,” said Lisbeth, smiling. “I shall die a + maid.” + </p> + <p> + “Two old men lovers! Really, I am ashamed sometimes! If my poor mother + could see me.” + </p> + <p> + “You are mistaking me for Crevel!” said Lisbeth. + </p> + <p> + “Tell me, my little Betty, do you not despise me?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! if I had but been pretty, what adventures I would have had!” cried + Lisbeth. “That is your justification.” + </p> + <p> + “But you would have acted only at the dictates of your heart,” said Madame + Marneffe, with a sigh. + </p> + <p> + “Pooh! Marneffe is a dead man they have forgotten to bury,” replied + Lisbeth. “The Baron is as good as your husband; Crevel is your adorer; it + seems to me that you are quite in order—like every other married + woman.” + </p> + <p> + “No, it is not that, dear, adorable thing; that is not where the shoe + pinches; you do not choose to understand.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I do,” said Lisbeth. “The unexpressed factor is part of my revenge; + what can I do? I am working it out.” + </p> + <p> + “I love Wenceslas so that I am positively growing thin, and I can never + see him,” said Valerie, throwing up her arms. “Hulot asks him to dinner, + and my artist declines. He does not know that I idolize him, the wretch! + What is his wife after all? Fine flesh! Yes, she is handsome, but I—I + know myself—I am worse!” + </p> + <p> + “Be quite easy, my child, he will come,” said Lisbeth, in the tone of a + nurse to an impatient child. “He shall.” + </p> + <p> + “But when?” + </p> + <p> + “This week perhaps.” + </p> + <p> + “Give me a kiss.” + </p> + <p> + As may be seen, these two women were but one. Everything Valerie did, even + her most reckless actions, her pleasures, her little sulks, were decided + on after serious deliberation between them. + </p> + <p> + Lisbeth, strangely excited by this harlot existence, advised Valerie on + every step, and pursued her course of revenge with pitiless logic. She + really adored Valerie; she had taken her to be her child, her friend, her + love; she found her docile, as Creoles are, yielding from voluptuous + indolence; she chattered with her morning after morning with more pleasure + than with Wenceslas; they could laugh together over the mischief they + plotted, and over the folly of men, and count up the swelling interest on + their respective savings. + </p> + <p> + Indeed, in this new enterprise and new affection, Lisbeth had found food + for her activity that was far more satisfying than her insane passion for + Wenceslas. The joys of gratified hatred are the fiercest and strongest the + heart can know. Love is the gold, hatred the iron of the mine of feeling + that lies buried in us. And then, Valerie was, to Lisbeth, Beauty in all + its glory—the beauty she worshiped, as we worship what we have not, + beauty far more plastic to her hand than that of Wenceslas, who had always + been cold to her and distant. + </p> + <p> + At the end of nearly three years, Lisbeth was beginning to perceive the + progress of the underground mine on which she was expending her life and + concentrating her mind. Lisbeth planned, Madame Marneffe acted. Madame + Marneffe was the axe, Lisbeth was the hand the wielded it, and that hand + was rapidly demolishing the family which was every day more odious to her; + for we can hate more and more, just as, when we love, we love better every + day. + </p> + <p> + Love and hatred are feelings that feed on themselves; but of the two, + hatred has the longer vitality. Love is restricted within limits of power; + it derives its energies from life and from lavishness. Hatred is like + death, like avarice; it is, so to speak, an active abstraction, above + beings and things. + </p> + <p> + Lisbeth, embarked on the existence that was natural to her, expended in it + all her faculties; governing, like the Jesuits, by occult influences. The + regeneration of her person was equally complete; her face was radiant. + Lisbeth dreamed of becoming Madame la Marechale Hulot. + </p> + <p> + This little scene, in which the two friends had bluntly uttered their + ideas without any circumlocution in expressing them, took place + immediately on Lisbeth’s return from market, whither she had been to + procure the materials for an elegant dinner. Marneffe, who hoped to get + Coquet’s place, was to entertain him and the virtuous Madame Coquet, and + Valerie hoped to persuade Hulot, that very evening, to consider the + head-clerk’s resignation. + </p> + <p> + Lisbeth dressed to go to the Baroness, with whom she was to dine. + </p> + <p> + “You will come back in time to make tea for us, my Betty?” said Valerie. + </p> + <p> + “I hope so.” + </p> + <p> + “You hope so—why? Have you come to sleeping with Adeline to drink + her tears while she is asleep?” + </p> + <p> + “If only I could!” said Lisbeth, laughing. “I would not refuse. She is + expiating her happiness—and I am glad, for I remember our young + days. It is my turn now. She will be in the mire, and I shall be Comtesse + de Forzheim!” + </p> + <p> + Lisbeth set out for the Rue Plumet, where she now went as to the theatre—to + indulge her emotions. + </p> + <p> + The residence Hulot had found for his wife consisted of a large, bare + entrance-room, a drawing-room, and a bed and dressing-room. The + dining-room was next the drawing-room on one side. Two servants’ rooms and + a kitchen on the third floor completed the accommodation, which was not + unworthy of a Councillor of State, high up in the War Office. The house, + the court-yard, and the stairs were extremely handsome. + </p> + <p> + The Baroness, who had to furnish her drawing-room, bed-room, and + dining-room with the relics of her splendor, had brought away the best of + the remains from the house in the Rue de l’Universite. Indeed, the poor + woman was attached to these mute witnesses of her happier life; to her + they had an almost consoling eloquence. In memory she saw her flowers, as + in the carpets she could trace patterns hardly visible now to other eyes. + </p> + <p> + On going into the spacious anteroom, where twelve chairs, a barometer, a + large stove, and long, white cotton curtains, bordered with red, suggested + the dreadful waiting-room of a Government office, the visitor felt + oppressed, conscious at once of the isolation in which the mistress lived. + Grief, like pleasure, infects the atmosphere. A first glance into any home + is enough to tell you whether love or despair reigns there. + </p> + <p> + Adeline would be found sitting in an immense bedroom with beautiful + furniture by Jacob Desmalters, of mahogany finished in the Empire style + with ormolu, which looks even less inviting than the brass-work of Louis + XVI.! It gave one a shiver to see this lonely woman sitting on a Roman + chair, a work-table with sphinxes before her, colorless, affecting false + cheerfulness, but preserving her imperial air, as she had preserved the + blue velvet gown she always wore in the house. Her proud spirit sustained + her strength and preserved her beauty. + </p> + <p> + The Baroness, by the end of her first year of banishment to this + apartment, had gauged every depth of misfortune. + </p> + <p> + “Still, even here my Hector has made my life much handsomer than it should + be for a mere peasant,” said she to herself. “He chooses that it should be + so; his will be done! I am Baroness Hulot, the sister-in-law of a Marshal + of France. I have done nothing wrong; my two children are settled in life; + I can wait for death, wrapped in the spotless veil of an immaculate wife + and the crape of departed happiness.” + </p> + <p> + A portrait of Hulot, in the uniform of a Commissary General of the + Imperial Guard, painted in 1810 by Robert Lefebvre, hung above the + work-table, and when visitors were announced, Adeline threw into a drawer + an <i>Imitation of Jesus Christ</i>, her habitual study. This blameless + Magdalen thus heard the Voice of the Spirit in her desert. + </p> + <p> + “Mariette, my child,” said Lisbeth to the woman who opened the door, “how + is my dear Adeline to-day?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, she looks pretty well, mademoiselle; but between you and me, if she + goes on in this way, she will kill herself,” said Mariette in a whisper. + “You really ought to persuade her to live better. Now, yesterday madame + told me to give her two sous’ worth of milk and a roll for one sou; to get + her a herring for dinner and a bit of cold veal; she had a pound cooked to + last her the week—of course, for the days when she dines at home and + alone. She will not spend more than ten sous a day for her food. It is + unreasonable. If I were to say anything about it to Monsieur le Marechal, + he might quarrel with Monsieur le Baron and leave him nothing, whereas + you, who are so kind and clever, can manage things——” + </p> + <p> + “But why do you not apply to my cousin the Baron?” said Lisbeth. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, dear mademoiselle, he has not been here for three weeks or more; in + fact, not since we last had the pleasure of seeing you! Besides, madame + has forbidden me, under threat of dismissal, ever to ask the master for + money. But as for grief!—oh, poor lady, she has been very unhappy. + It is the first time that monsieur has neglected her for so long. Every + time the bell rang she rushed to the window—but for the last five + days she has sat still in her chair. She reads. Whenever she goes out to + see Madame la Comtesse, she says, ‘Mariette, if monsieur comes in,’ says + she, ‘tell him I am at home, and send the porter to fetch me; he shall be + well paid for his trouble.’” + </p> + <p> + “Poor soul!” said Lisbeth; “it goes to my heart. I speak of her to the + Baron every day. What can I do? ‘Yes,’ says he, ‘Betty, you are right; I + am a wretch. My wife is an angel, and I am a monster! I will go to-morrow——’ + And he stays with Madame Marneffe. That woman is ruining him, and he + worships her; he lives only in her sight.—I do what I can; if I were + not there, and if I had not Mathurine to depend upon, he would spend twice + as much as he does; and as he has hardly any money in the world, he would + have blown his brains out by this time. And, I tell you, Mariette, Adeline + would die of her husband’s death, I am perfectly certain. At any rate, I + pull to make both ends meet, and prevent my cousin from throwing too much + money into the fire.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, that is what madame says, poor soul! She knows how much she owes + you,” replied Mariette. “She said she had judged you unjustly for many + years——” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed!” said Lisbeth. “And did she say anything else?” + </p> + <p> + “No, mademoiselle. If you wish to please her, talk to her about Monsieur + le Baron; she envies you your happiness in seeing him every day.” + </p> + <p> + “Is she alone?” + </p> + <p> + “I beg pardon, no; the Marshal is with her. He comes every day, and she + always tells him she saw monsieur in the morning, but that he comes in + very late at night.” + </p> + <p> + “And is there a good dinner to-day?” + </p> + <p> + Mariette hesitated; she could not meet Lisbeth’s eye. The drawing-room + door opened, and Marshal Hulot rushed out in such haste that he bowed to + Lisbeth without looking at her, and dropped a paper. Lisbeth picked it up + and ran after him downstairs, for it was vain to hail a deaf man; but she + managed not to overtake the Marshal, and as she came up again she + furtively read the following lines written in pencil:— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “MY DEAR BROTHER,—My husband has given me the money for my + quarter’s expenses; but my daughter Hortense was in such need of + it, that I lent her the whole sum, which was scarcely enough to + set her straight. Could you lend me a few hundred francs? For I + cannot ask Hector for more; if he were to blame me, I could not + bear it.” + </pre> + <p> + “My word!” thought Lisbeth, “she must be in extremities to bend her pride + to such a degree!” + </p> + <p> + Lisbeth went in. She saw tears in Adeline’s eyes, and threw her arms round + her neck. + </p> + <p> + “Adeline, my dearest, I know all,” cried Cousin Betty. “Here, the Marshal + dropped this paper—he was in such a state of mind, and running like + a greyhound.—Has that dreadful Hector given you no money since——?” + </p> + <p> + “He gives it me quite regularly,” replied the Baroness, “but Hortense + needed it, and—” + </p> + <p> + “And you had not enough to pay for dinner to-night,” said Lisbeth, + interrupting her. “Now I understand why Mariette looked so confused when I + said something about the soup. You really are childish, Adeline; come, + take my savings.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, my kind cousin,” said Adeline, wiping away a tear. “This + little difficulty is only temporary, and I have provided for the future. + My expenses henceforth will be no more than two thousand four hundred + francs a year, rent inclusive, and I shall have the money.—Above + all, Betty, not a word to Hector. Is he well?” + </p> + <p> + “As strong as the Pont Neuf, and as gay as a lark; he thinks of nothing + but his charmer Valerie.” + </p> + <p> + Madame Hulot looked out at a tall silver-fir in front of the window, and + Lisbeth could not see her cousin’s eyes to read their expression. + </p> + <p> + “Did you mention that it was the day when we all dine together here?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. But, dear me! Madame Marneffe is giving a grand dinner; she hopes to + get Monsieur Coquet to resign, and that is of the first importance.—Now, + Adeline, listen to me. You know that I am fiercely proud as to my + independence. Your husband, my dear, will certainly bring you to ruin. I + fancied I could be of use to you all by living near this woman, but she is + a creature of unfathomable depravity, and she will make your husband + promise things which will bring you all to disgrace.” Adeline writhed like + a person stabbed to the heart. “My dear Adeline, I am sure of what I say. + I feel it is my duty to enlighten you.—Well, let us think of the + future. The Marshal is an old man, but he will last a long time yet—he + draws good pay; when he dies his widow would have a pension of six + thousand francs. On such an income I would undertake to maintain you all. + Use your influence over the good man to get him to marry me. It is not for + the sake of being Madame la Marechale; I value such nonsense at no more + than I value Madame Marneffe’s conscience; but you will all have bread. I + see that Hortense must be wanting it, since you give her yours.” + </p> + <p> + The Marshal now came in; he had made such haste, that he was mopping his + forehead with his bandana. + </p> + <p> + “I have given Mariette two thousand francs,” he whispered to his + sister-in-law. + </p> + <p> + Adeline colored to the roots of her hair. Two tears hung on the fringes of + the still long lashes, and she silently pressed the old man’s hand; his + beaming face expressed the glee of a favored lover. + </p> + <p> + “I intended to spend the money in a present for you, Adeline,” said he. + “Instead of repaying me, you must choose for yourself the thing you would + like best.” + </p> + <p> + He took Lisbeth’s hand, which she held out to him, and so bewildered was + he by his satisfaction, that he kissed it. + </p> + <p> + “That looks promising,” said Adeline to Lisbeth, smiling so far as she was + able to smile. + </p> + <p> + The younger Hulot and his wife now came in. + </p> + <p> + “Is my brother coming to dinner?” asked the Marshal sharply. + </p> + <p> + Adeline took up a pencil and wrote these words on a scrap of paper: + </p> + <p> + “I expect him; he promised this morning that he would be here; but if he + should not come, it would be because the Marshal kept him. He is + overwhelmed with business.” + </p> + <p> + And she handed him the paper. She had invented this way of conversing with + Marshal Hulot, and kept a little collection of paper scraps and a pencil + at hand on the work-table. + </p> + <p> + “I know,” said the Marshal, “he is worked very hard over the business in + Algiers.” + </p> + <p> + At this moment, Hortense and Wenceslas arrived, and the Baroness, as she + saw all her family about her, gave the Marshal a significant glance + understood by none but Lisbeth. + </p> + <p> + Happiness had greatly improved the artist, who was adored by his wife and + flattered by the world. His face had become almost round, and his graceful + figure did justice to the advantages which blood gives to men of birth. + His early fame, his important position, the delusive eulogies that the + world sheds on artists as lightly as we say, “How d’ye do?” or discuss the + weather, gave him that high sense of merit which degenerates into sheer + fatuity when talent wanes. The Cross of the Legion of Honor was the + crowning stamp of the great man he believed himself to be. + </p> + <p> + After three years of married life, Hortense was to her husband what a dog + is to its master; she watched his every movement with a look that seemed a + constant inquiry, her eyes were always on him, like those of a miser on + his treasure; her admiring abnegation was quite pathetic. In her might be + seen her mother’s spirit and teaching. Her beauty, as great as ever, was + poetically touched by the gentle shadow of concealed melancholy. + </p> + <p> + On seeing Hortense come in, it struck Lisbeth that some long-suppressed + complaint was about to break through the thin veil of reticence. Lisbeth, + from the first days of the honeymoon, had been sure that this couple had + too small an income for so great a passion. + </p> + <p> + Hortense, as she embraced her mother, exchanged with her a few whispered + phrases, heart to heart, of which the mystery was betrayed to Lisbeth by + certain shakes of the head. + </p> + <p> + “Adeline, like me, must work for her living,” thought Cousin Betty. “She + shall be made to tell me what she will do! Those pretty fingers will know + at last, like mine, what it is to work because they must.” + </p> + <p> + At six o’clock the family party went in to dinner. A place was laid for + Hector. + </p> + <p> + “Leave it so,” said the Baroness to Mariette, “monsieur sometimes comes in + late.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my father will certainly come,” said Victorin to his mother. “He + promised me he would when we parted at the Chamber.” + </p> + <p> + Lisbeth, like a spider in the middle of its net, gloated over all these + countenances. Having known Victorin and Hortense from their birth, their + faces were to her like panes of glass, through which she could read their + young souls. Now, from certain stolen looks directed by Victorin on his + mother, she saw that some disaster was hanging over Adeline which Victorin + hesitated to reveal. The famous young lawyer had some covert anxiety. His + deep reverence for his mother was evident in the regret with which he + gazed at her. + </p> + <p> + Hortense was evidently absorbed in her own woes; for a fortnight past, as + Lisbeth knew, she had been suffering the first uneasiness which want of + money brings to honest souls, and to young wives on whom life has hitherto + smiled, and who conceal their alarms. Also Lisbeth had immediately guessed + that her mother had given her no money. Adeline’s delicacy had brought her + so low as to use the fallacious excuses that necessity suggests to + borrowers. + </p> + <p> + Hortense’s absence of mind, with her brother’s and the Baroness’ deep + dejection, made the dinner a melancholy meal, especially with the added + chill of the Marshal’s utter deafness. Three persons gave a little life to + the scene: Lisbeth, Celestine, and Wenceslas. Hortense’s affection had + developed the artist’s natural liveliness as a Pole, the somewhat + swaggering vivacity and noisy high spirits that characterize these + Frenchmen of the North. His frame of mind and the expression of his face + showed plainly that he believed in himself, and that poor Hortense, + faithful to her mother’s training, kept all domestic difficulties to + herself. + </p> + <p> + “You must be content, at any rate,” said Lisbeth to her young cousin, as + they rose from table, “since your mother has helped you with her money.” + </p> + <p> + “Mamma!” replied Hortense in astonishment. “Oh, poor mamma! It is for me + that she would like to make money. You do not know, Lisbeth, but I have a + horrible suspicion that she works for it in secret.” + </p> + <p> + They were crossing the large, dark drawing-room where there were no + candles, all following Mariette, who was carrying the lamp into Adeline’s + bedroom. At this instant Victorin just touched Lisbeth and Hortense on the + arm. The two women, understanding the hint, left Wenceslas, Celestine, the + Marshal, and the Baroness to go on together, and remained standing in a + window-bay. + </p> + <p> + “What is it, Victorin?” said Lisbeth. “Some disaster caused by your + father, I dare wager.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, alas!” replied Victorin. “A money-lender named Vauvinet has bills of + my father’s to the amount of sixty thousand francs, and wants to + prosecute. I tried to speak of the matter to my father at the Chamber, but + he would not understand me; he almost avoided me. Had we better tell my + mother?” + </p> + <p> + “No, no,” said Lisbeth, “she has too many troubles; it would be a + death-blow; you must spare her. You have no idea how low she has fallen. + But for your uncle, you would have found no dinner here this evening.” + </p> + <p> + “Dear Heaven! Victorin, what wretches we are!” said Hortense to her + brother. “We ought to have guessed what Lisbeth has told us. My dinner is + choking me!” + </p> + <p> + Hortense could say no more; she covered her mouth with her handkerchief to + smother a sob, and melted into tears. + </p> + <p> + “I told the fellow Vauvinet to call on me to-morrow,” replied Victorin, + “but will he be satisfied by my guarantee on a mortgage? I doubt it. Those + men insist on ready money to sweat others on usurious terms.” + </p> + <p> + “Let us sell out of the funds!” said Lisbeth to Hortense. + </p> + <p> + “What good would that do?” replied Victorin. “It would bring fifteen or + sixteen thousand francs, and we want sixty thousand.” + </p> + <p> + “Dear cousin!” cried Hortense, embracing Lisbeth with the enthusiasm of + guilelessness. + </p> + <p> + “No, Lisbeth, keep your little fortune,” said Victorin, pressing the old + maid’s hand. “I shall see to-morrow what this man would be up to. With my + wife’s consent, I can at least hinder or postpone the prosecution—for + it would really be frightful to see my father’s honor impugned. What would + the War Minister say? My father’s salary, which he pledged for three + years, will not be released before the month of December, so we cannot + offer that as a guarantee. This Vauvinet has renewed the bills eleven + times; so you may imagine what my father must pay in interest. We must + close this pit.” + </p> + <p> + “If only Madame Marneffe would throw him over!” said Hortense bitterly. + </p> + <p> + “Heaven forbid!” exclaimed Victorin. “He would take up some one else; and + with her, at any rate, the worst outlay is over.” + </p> + <p> + What a change in children formerly so respectful, and kept so long by + their mother in blind worship of their father! They knew him now for what + he was. + </p> + <p> + “But for me,” said Lisbeth, “your father’s ruin would be more complete + than it is.” + </p> + <p> + “Come in to mamma,” said Hortense; “she is very sharp, and will suspect + something; as our kind Lisbeth says, let us keep everything from her—let + us be cheerful.” + </p> + <p> + “Victorin,” said Lisbeth, “you have no notion of what your father will be + brought to by his passion for women. Try to secure some future resource by + getting the Marshal to marry me. Say something about it this evening; I + will leave early on purpose.” + </p> + <p> + Victorin went into the bedroom. + </p> + <p> + “And you, poor little thing!” said Lisbeth in an undertone to Hortense, + “what can you do?” + </p> + <p> + “Come to dinner with us to-morrow, and we will talk it over,” answered + Hortense. “I do not know which way to turn; you know how hard life is, and + you will advise me.” + </p> + <p> + While the whole family with one consent tried to persuade the Marshal to + marry, and while Lisbeth was making her way home to the Rue Vanneau, one + of those incidents occurred which, in such women as Madame Marneffe, are a + stimulus to vice by compelling them to exert their energy and every + resource of depravity. One fact, at any rate, must however be + acknowledged: life in Paris is too full for vicious persons to do wrong + instinctively and unprovoked; vice is only a weapon of defence against + aggressors—that is all. + </p> + <p> + Madame Marneffe’s drawing-room was full of her faithful admirers, and she + had just started the whist-tables, when the footman, a pensioned soldier + recruited by the Baron, announced: + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur le Baron Montes de Montejanos.” + </p> + <p> + Valerie’s heart jumped, but she hurried to the door, exclaiming: + </p> + <p> + “My cousin!” and as she met the Brazilian, she whispered: + </p> + <p> + “You are my relation—or all is at an end between us!—And so + you were not wrecked, Henri?” she went on audibly, as she led him to the + fire. “I heard you were lost, and have mourned for you these three years.” + </p> + <p> + “How are you, my good fellow?” said Marneffe, offering his hand to the + stranger, whose get-up was indeed that of a Brazilian and a millionaire. + </p> + <p> + Monsieur le Baron Henri Montes de Montejanos, to whom the climate of the + equator had given the color and stature we expect to see in Othello on the + stage, had an alarming look of gloom, but it was a merely pictorial + illusion; for, sweet and affectionate by nature, he was predestined to be + the victim that a strong man often is to a weak woman. The scorn expressed + in his countenance, the muscular strength of his stalwart frame, all his + physical powers were shown only to his fellow-men; a form of flattery + which women appreciate, nay, which so intoxicates them, that every man + with his mistress on his arm assumes a matador swagger that provokes a + smile. Very well set up, in a closely fitting blue coat with solid gold + buttons, in black trousers, spotless patent evening boots, and gloves of a + fashionable hue, the only Brazilian touch in the Baron’s costume was a + large diamond, worth about a hundred thousand francs, which blazed like a + star on a handsome blue silk cravat, tucked into a white waistcoat in such + a way as to show corners of a fabulously fine shirt front. + </p> + <p> + His brow, bossy like that of a satyr, a sign of tenacity in his passions, + was crowned by thick jet-black hair like a virgin forest, and under it + flashed a pair of hazel eyes, so wild looking as to suggest that before + his birth his mother must have been scared by a jaguar. + </p> + <p> + This fine specimen of the Portuguese race in Brazil took his stand with + his back to the fire, in an attitude that showed familiarity with Paris + manners; holding his hat in one hand, his elbow resting on the + velvet-covered shelf, he bent over Madame Marneffe, talking to her in an + undertone, and troubling himself very little about the dreadful people + who, in his opinion, were so very much in the way. + </p> + <p> + This fashion of taking the stage, with the Brazilian’s attitude and + expression, gave, alike to Crevel and to the baron, an identical shock of + curiosity and anxiety. Both were struck by the same impression and the + same surmise. And the manoeuvre suggested in each by their very genuine + passion was so comical in its simultaneous results, that it made everybody + smile who was sharp enough to read its meaning. Crevel, a tradesman and + shopkeeper to the backbone, though a mayor of Paris, unluckily, was a + little slower to move than his rival partner, and this enabled the Baron + to read at a glance Crevel’s involuntary self-betrayal. This was a fresh + arrow to rankle in the very amorous old man’s heart, and he resolved to + have an explanation from Valerie. + </p> + <p> + “This evening,” said Crevel to himself too, as he sorted his hand, “I must + know where I stand.” + </p> + <p> + “You have a heart!” cried Marneffe. “You have just revoked.” + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon,” said Crevel, trying to withdraw his card.—“This + Baron seems to me very much in the way,” he went on, thinking to himself. + “If Valerie carries on with my Baron, well and good—it is a means to + my revenge, and I can get rid of him if I choose; but as for this cousin!—He + is one Baron too many; I do not mean to be made a fool of. I will know how + they are related.” + </p> + <p> + That evening, by one of those strokes of luck which come to pretty women, + Valerie was charmingly dressed. Her white bosom gleamed under a lace + tucker of rusty white, which showed off the satin texture of her beautiful + shoulders—for Parisian women, Heaven knows how, have some way of + preserving their fine flesh and remaining slender. She wore a black velvet + gown that looked as if it might at any moment slip off her shoulders, and + her hair was dressed with lace and drooping flowers. Her arms, not fat but + dimpled, were graced by deep ruffles to her sleeves. She was like a + luscious fruit coquettishly served in a handsome dish, and making the + knife-blade long to be cutting it. + </p> + <p> + “Valerie,” the Brazilian was saying in her ear, “I have come back faithful + to you. My uncle is dead; I am twice as rich as I was when I went away. I + mean to live and die in Paris, for you and with you.” + </p> + <p> + “Lower, Henri, I implore you——” + </p> + <p> + “Pooh! I mean to speak to you this evening, even if I should have to pitch + all these creatures out of window, especially as I have lost two days in + looking for you. I shall stay till the last.—I can, I suppose?” + </p> + <p> + Valerie smiled at her adopted cousin, and said: + </p> + <p> + “Remember that you are the son of my mother’s sister, who married your + father during Junot’s campaign in Portugal.” + </p> + <p> + “What, I, Montes de Montejanos, great grandson of a conquerer of Brazil! + Tell a lie?” + </p> + <p> + “Hush, lower, or we shall never meet again.” + </p> + <p> + “Pray, why?” + </p> + <p> + “Marneffe, like all dying wretches, who always take up some last whim, has + a revived passion for me——” + </p> + <p> + “That cur?” said the Brazilian, who knew his Marneffe; “I will settle + him!” + </p> + <p> + “What violence!” + </p> + <p> + “And where did you get all this splendor?” the Brazilian went on, just + struck by the magnificence of the apartment. + </p> + <p> + She began to laugh. + </p> + <p> + “Henri! what bad taste!” said she. + </p> + <p> + She had felt two burning flashes of jealousy which had moved her so far as + to make her look at the two souls in purgatory. Crevel, playing against + Baron Hulot and Monsieur Coquet, had Marneffe for his partner. The game + was even, because Crevel and the Baron were equally absent-minded, and + made blunder after blunder. Thus, in one instant, the old men both + confessed the passion which Valerie had persuaded them to keep secret for + the past three years; but she too had failed to hide the joy in her eyes + at seeing the man who had first taught her heart to beat, the object of + her first love. The rights of such happy mortals survive as long as the + woman lives over whom they have acquired them. + </p> + <p> + With these three passions at her side—one supported by the insolence + of wealth, the second by the claims of possession, and the third by youth, + strength, fortune, and priority—Madame Marneffe preserved her + coolness and presence of mind, like General Bonaparte when, at the siege + of Mantua, he had to fight two armies, and at the same time maintain the + blockade. + </p> + <p> + Jealousy, distorting Hulot’s face, made him look as terrible as the late + Marshal Montcornet leading a cavalry charge against a Russian square. + Being such a handsome man, he had never known any ground for jealousy, any + more than Murat knew what it was to be afraid. He had always felt sure + that he should triumph. His rebuff by Josepha, the first he had ever met, + he ascribed to her love of money; “he was conquered by millions, and not + by a changeling,” he would say when speaking of the Duc d’Herouville. And + now, in one instant, the poison and delirium that the mad passion sheds in + a flood had rushed to his heart. He kept turning from the whist-table + towards the fireplace with an action <i>a la</i> Mirabeau; and as he laid + down his cards to cast a challenging glance at the Brazilian and Valerie, + the rest of the company felt the sort of alarm mingled with curiosity that + is caused by evident violence ready to break out at any moment. The sham + cousin stared at Hulot as he might have looked at some big China mandarin. + </p> + <p> + This state of things could not last; it was bound to end in some + tremendous outbreak. Marneffe was as much afraid of Hulot as Crevel was of + Marneffe, for he was anxious not to die a mere clerk. Men marked for death + believe in life as galley-slaves believe in liberty; this man was bent on + being a first-class clerk at any cost. Thoroughly frightened by the + pantomime of the Baron and Crevel, he rose, said a few words in his wife’s + ear, and then, to the surprise of all, Valerie went into the adjoining + bedroom with the Brazilian and her husband. + </p> + <p> + “Did Madame Marneffe ever speak to you of this cousin of hers?” said + Crevel to Hulot. + </p> + <p> + “Never!” replied the Baron, getting up. “That is enough for this evening,” + said he. “I have lost two louis—there they are.” + </p> + <p> + He threw the two gold pieces on the table, and seated himself on the sofa + with a look which everybody else took as a hint to go. Monsieur and Madame + Coquet, after exchanging a few words, left the room, and Claude Vignon, in + despair, followed their example. These two departures were a hint to less + intelligent persons, who now found that they were not wanted. The Baron + and Crevel were left together, and spoke never a word. Hulot, at last, + ignoring Crevel, went on tiptoe to listen at the bedroom door; but he + bounded back with a prodigious jump, for Marneffe opened the door and + appeared with a calm face, astonished to find only the two men. + </p> + <p> + “And the tea?” said he. + </p> + <p> + “Where is Valerie?” replied the Baron in a rage. + </p> + <p> + “My wife,” said Marneffe. “She is gone upstairs to speak to mademoiselle + your cousin. She will come down directly.” + </p> + <p> + “And why has she deserted us for that stupid creature?” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Marneffe, “Mademoiselle Lisbeth came back from dining with + the Baroness with an attack of indigestion and Mathurine asked Valerie for + some tea for her, so my wife went up to see what was the matter.” + </p> + <p> + “And <i>her</i> cousin?” + </p> + <p> + “He is gone.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you really believe that?” said the Baron. + </p> + <p> + “I have seen him to his carriage,” replied Marneffe, with a hideous smirk. + </p> + <p> + The wheels of a departing carriage were audible in the street. The Baron, + counting Marneffe for nothing, went upstairs to Lisbeth. An idea flashed + through him such as the heart sends to the brain when it is on fire with + jealousy. Marneffe’s baseness was so well known to him, that he could + imagine the most degrading connivance between husband and wife. + </p> + <p> + “What has become of all the ladies and gentlemen?” said Marneffe, finding + himself alone with Crevel. + </p> + <p> + “When the sun goes to bed, the cocks and hens follow suit,” said Crevel. + “Madame Marneffe disappeared, and her adorers departed. Will you play a + game of piquet?” added Crevel, who meant to remain. + </p> + <p> + He too believed that the Brazilian was in the house. + </p> + <p> + Monsieur Marneffe agreed. The Mayor was a match for the Baron. Simply by + playing cards with the husband he could stay on indefinitely; and + Marneffe, since the suppression of the public tables, was quite satisfied + with the more limited opportunities of private play. + </p> + <p> + Baron Hulot went quickly up to Lisbeth’s apartment, but the door was + locked, and the usual inquiries through the door took up time enough to + enable the two light-handed and cunning women to arrange the scene of an + attack of indigestion with the accessories of tea. Lisbeth was in such + pain that Valerie was very much alarmed, and consequently hardly paid any + heed to the Baron’s furious entrance. Indisposition is one of the screens + most often placed by women to ward off a quarrel. Hulot peeped about, here + and there, but could see no spot in Cousin Betty’s room where a Brazilian + might lie hidden. + </p> + <p> + “Your indigestion does honor to my wife’s dinner, Lisbeth,” said he, + scrutinizing her, for Lisbeth was perfectly well, trying to imitate the + hiccough of spasmodic indigestion as she drank her tea. + </p> + <p> + “How lucky it is that dear Betty should be living under my roof!” said + Madame Marneffe. “But for me, the poor thing would have died.” + </p> + <p> + “You look as if you only half believed it,” added Lisbeth, turning to the + Baron, “and that would be a shame——” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” asked the Baron. “Do you know the purpose of my visit?” + </p> + <p> + And he leered at the door of a dressing-closet from which the key had been + withdrawn. + </p> + <p> + “Are you talking Greek?” said Madame Marneffe, with an appealing look of + misprized tenderness and devotedness. + </p> + <p> + “But it is all through you, my dear cousin; yes, it is your doing that I + am in such a state,” said Lisbeth vehemently. + </p> + <p> + This speech diverted the Baron’s attention; he looked at the old maid with + the greatest astonishment. + </p> + <p> + “You know that I am devoted to you,” said Lisbeth. “I am here, that says + everything. I am wearing out the last shreds of my strength in watching + over your interests, since they are one with our dear Valerie’s. Her house + costs one-tenth of what any other does that is kept on the same scale. But + for me, Cousin, instead of two thousand francs a month, you would be + obliged to spend three or four thousand.” + </p> + <p> + “I know all that,” replied the Baron out of patience; “you are our + protectress in many ways,” he added, turning to Madame Marneffe and + putting his arm round her neck.—“Is not she, my pretty sweet?” + </p> + <p> + “On my honor,” exclaimed Valerie, “I believe you are gone mad!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, you cannot doubt my attachment,” said Lisbeth. “But I am also very + fond of my cousin Adeline, and I found her in tears. She has not seen you + for a month. Now that is really too bad; you leave my poor Adeline without + a sou. Your daughter Hortense almost died of it when she was told that it + is thanks to your brother that we had any dinner at all. There was not + even bread in your house this day. + </p> + <p> + “Adeline is heroically resolved to keep her sufferings to herself. She + said to me, ‘I will do as you have done!’ The speech went to my heart; and + after dinner, as I thought of what my cousin had been in 1811, and of what + she is in 1841—thirty years after—I had a violent indigestion.—I + fancied I should get over it; but when I got home, I thought I was dying—” + </p> + <p> + “You see, Valerie, to what my adoration of you has brought me! To crime—domestic + crime!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! I was wise never to marry!” cried Lisbeth, with savage joy. “You are + a kind, good man; Adeline is a perfect angel;—and this is the reward + of her blind devotion.” + </p> + <p> + “An elderly angel!” said Madame Marneffe softly, as she looked half + tenderly, half mockingly, at her Hector, who was gazing at her as an + examining judge gazes at the accused. + </p> + <p> + “My poor wife!” said Hulot. “For more than nine months I have given her no + money, though I find it for you, Valerie; but at what a cost! No one else + will ever love you so, and what torments you inflict on me in return!” + </p> + <p> + “Torments?” she echoed. “Then what do you call happiness?” + </p> + <p> + “I do not yet know on what terms you have been with this so-called cousin + whom you never mentioned to me,” said the Baron, paying no heed to + Valerie’s interjection. “But when he came in I felt as if a penknife had + been stuck into my heart. Blinded I may be, but I am not blind. I could + read his eyes, and yours. In short, from under that ape’s eyelids there + flashed sparks that he flung at you—and your eyes!—Oh! you + have never looked at me so, never! As to this mystery, Valerie, it shall + all be cleared up. You are the only woman who ever made me know the + meaning of jealousy, so you need not be surprised by what I say.—But + another mystery which has rent its cloud, and it seems to me infamous——” + </p> + <p> + “Go on, go on,” said Valerie. + </p> + <p> + “It is that Crevel, that square lump of flesh and stupidity, is in love + with you, and that you accept his attentions with so good a grace that the + idiot flaunts his passion before everybody.” + </p> + <p> + “Only three! Can you discover no more?” asked Madame Marneffe. + </p> + <p> + “There may be more!” retorted the Baron. + </p> + <p> + “If Monsieur Crevel is in love with me, he is in his rights as a man after + all; if I favored his passion, that would indeed be the act of a coquette, + or of a woman who would leave much to be desired on your part.—Well, + love me as you find me, or let me alone. If you restore me to freedom, + neither you nor Monsieur Crevel will ever enter my doors again. But I will + take up with my cousin, just to keep my hand in, in those charming habits + you suppose me to indulge.—Good-bye, Monsieur le Baron Hulot.” + </p> + <p> + She rose, but the Baron took her by the arm and made her sit down again. + The old man could not do without Valerie. She had become more imperatively + indispensable to him than the necessaries of life; he preferred remaining + in uncertainty to having any proof of Valerie’s infidelity. + </p> + <p> + “My dearest Valerie,” said he, “do you not see how miserable I am? I only + ask you to justify yourself. Give me sufficient reasons—” + </p> + <p> + “Well, go downstairs and wait for me; for I suppose you do not wish to + look on at the various ceremonies required by your cousin’s state.” + </p> + <p> + Hulot slowly turned away. + </p> + <p> + “You old profligate,” cried Lisbeth, “you have not even asked me how your + children are? What are you going to do for Adeline? I, at any rate, will + take her my savings to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + “You owe your wife white bread to eat at least,” said Madame Marneffe, + smiling. + </p> + <p> + The Baron, without taking offence at Lisbeth’s tone, as despotic as + Josepha’s, got out of the room, only too glad to escape so importunate a + question. + </p> + <p> + The door bolted once more, the Brazilian came out of the dressing-closet, + where he had been waiting, and he appeared with his eyes full of tears, in + a really pitiable condition. Montes had heard everything. + </p> + <p> + “Henri, you must have ceased to love me, I know it!” said Madame Marneffe, + hiding her face in her handkerchief and bursting into tears. + </p> + <p> + It was the outcry of real affection. The cry of a woman’s despair is so + convincing that it wins the forgiveness that lurks at the bottom of every + lover’s heart—when she is young and pretty, and wears a gown so low + that she could slip out at the top and stand in the garb of Eve. + </p> + <p> + “But why, if you love me, do you not leave everything for my sake?” asked + the Brazilian. + </p> + <p> + This South American born, being logical, as men are who have lived the + life of nature, at once resumed the conversation at the point where it had + been broken off, putting his arm round Valerie’s waist. + </p> + <p> + “Why?” she repeated, gazing up at Henri, whom she subjugated at once by a + look charged with passion, “why, my dear boy, I am married; we are in + Paris, not in the savannah, the pampas, the backwoods of America.—My + dear Henri, my first and only love, listen to me. That husband of mine, a + second clerk in the War Office, is bent on being a head-clerk and officer + of the Legion of Honor; can I help his being ambitious? Now for the very + reason that made him leave us our liberty—nearly four years ago, do + you remember, you bad boy?—he now abandons me to Monsieur Hulot. I + cannot get rid of that dreadful official, who snorts like a grampus, who + has fins in his nostrils, who is sixty-three years old, and who had grown + ten years older by dint of trying to be young; who is so odious to me that + the very day when Marneffe is promoted, and gets his Cross of the Legion + of Honor——” + </p> + <p> + “How much more will your husband get then?” + </p> + <p> + “A thousand crowns.” + </p> + <p> + “I will pay him as much in an annuity,” said Baron Montes. “We will leave + Paris and go——” + </p> + <p> + “Where?” said Valerie, with one of the pretty sneers by which a woman + makes fun of a man she is sure of. “Paris is the only place where we can + live happy. I care too much for your love to risk seeing it die out in a + <i>tete-a-tete</i> in the wilderness. Listen, Henri, you are the only man + I care for in the whole world. Write that down clearly in your tiger’s + brain.” + </p> + <p> + For women, when they have made a sheep of a man, always tell him that he + is a lion with a will of iron. + </p> + <p> + “Now, attend to me. Monsieur Marneffe has not five years to live; he is + rotten to the marrow of his bones. He spends seven months of the twelve in + swallowing drugs and decoctions; he lives wrapped in flannel; in short, as + the doctor says, he lives under the scythe, and may be cut off at any + moment. An illness that would not harm another man would be fatal to him; + his blood is corrupt, his life undermined at the root. For five years I + have never allowed him to kiss me—he is poisonous! Some day, and the + day is not far off, I shall be a widow. Well, then, I—who have + already had an offer from a man with sixty thousand francs a year, I who + am as completely mistress of that man as I am of this lump of sugar—I + swear to you that if you were as poor as Hulot and as foul as Marneffe, if + you beat me even, still you are the only man I will have for a husband, + the only man I love, or whose name I will ever bear. And I am ready to + give any pledge of my love that you may require.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, to-night——” + </p> + <p> + “But you, son of the South, my splendid jaguar, come expressly for me from + the virgin forest of Brazil,” said she, taking his hand and kissing and + fondling it, “I have some consideration for the poor creature you mean to + make your wife.—Shall I be your wife, Henri?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said the Brazilian, overpowered by this unbridled volubility of + passion. And he knelt at her feet. + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, Henri,” said Valerie, taking his two hands and looking + straight into his eyes, “swear to me now, in the presence of Lisbeth, my + best and only friend, my sister—that you will make me your wife at + the end of my year’s widowhood.” + </p> + <p> + “I swear it.” + </p> + <p> + “That is not enough. Swear by your mother’s ashes and eternal salvation, + swear by the Virgin Mary and by all your hopes as a Catholic!” + </p> + <p> + Valerie knew that the Brazilian would keep that oath even if she should + have fallen into the foulest social slough. + </p> + <p> + The Baron solemnly swore it, his nose almost touching Valerie’s white + bosom, and his eyes spellbound. He was drunk, drunk as a man is when he + sees the woman he loves once more, after a sea voyage of a hundred and + twenty days. + </p> + <p> + “Good. Now be quite easy. And in Madame Marneffe respect the future + Baroness de Montejanos. You are not to spend a sou upon me; I forbid it.—Stay + here in the outer room; sleep on the sofa. I myself will come and tell you + when you may move.—We will breakfast to-morrow morning, and you can + be leaving at about one o’clock as if you had come to call at noon. There + is nothing to fear; the gate-keepers love me as much as if they were my + father and mother.—Now I must go down and make tea.” + </p> + <p> + She beckoned to Lisbeth, who followed her out on to the landing. There + Valerie whispered in the old maid’s ear: + </p> + <p> + “My darkie has come back too soon. I shall die if I cannot avenge you on + Hortense!” + </p> + <p> + “Make your mind easy, my pretty little devil!” said Lisbeth, kissing her + forehead. “Love and Revenge on the same track will never lose the game. + Hortense expects me to-morrow; she is in beggary. For a thousand francs + you may have a thousand kisses from Wenceslas.” + </p> + <p> + On leaving Valerie, Hulot had gone down to the porter’s lodge and made a + sudden invasion there. + </p> + <p> + “Madame Olivier?” + </p> + <p> + On hearing the imperious tone of this address, and seeing the action by + which the Baron emphasized it, Madame Olivier came out into the courtyard + as far as the Baron led her. + </p> + <p> + “You know that if any one can help your son to a connection by and by, it + is I; it is owing to me that he is already third clerk in a notary’s + office, and is finishing his studies.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Monsieur le Baron; and indeed, sir, you may depend on our gratitude. + Not a day passes that I do not pray to God for Monsieur le Baron’s + happiness.” + </p> + <p> + “Not so many words, my good woman,” said Hulot, “but deeds——” + </p> + <p> + “What can I do, sir?” asked Madame Olivier. + </p> + <p> + “A man came here to-night in a carriage. Do you know him?” + </p> + <p> + Madame Olivier had recognized Montes well enough. How could she have + forgotten him? In the Rue du Doyenne the Brazilian had always slipped a + five-franc piece into her hand as he went out in the morning, rather too + early. If the Baron had applied to Monsieur Olivier, he would perhaps have + learned all he wanted to know. But Olivier was in bed. In the lower orders + the woman is not merely the superior of the man—she almost always + has the upper hand. Madame Olivier had long since made up her mind as to + which side to take in case of a collision between her two benefactors; she + regarded Madame Marneffe as the stronger power. + </p> + <p> + “Do I know him?” she repeated. “No, indeed, no. I never saw him before!” + </p> + <p> + “What! Did Madame Marneffe’s cousin never go to see her when she was + living in the Rue du Doyenne?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! Was it her cousin?” cried Madame Olivier. “I dare say he did come, + but I did not know him again. Next time, sir, I will look at him——” + </p> + <p> + “He will be coming out,” said Hulot, hastily interrupting Madame Olivier. + </p> + <p> + “He has left,” said Madame Olivier, understanding the situation. “The + carriage is gone.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you see him go?” + </p> + <p> + “As plainly as I see you. He told his servant to drive to the Embassy.” + </p> + <p> + This audacious statement wrung a sigh of relief from the Baron; he took + Madame Olivier’s hand and squeezed it. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, my good Madame Olivier. But that is not all.—Monsieur + Crevel?” + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur Crevel? What can you mean, sir? I do not understand,” said + Madame Olivier. + </p> + <p> + “Listen to me. He is Madame Marneffe’s lover——” + </p> + <p> + “Impossible, Monsieur le Baron; impossible,” said she, clasping her hands. + </p> + <p> + “He is Madame Marneffe’s lover,” the Baron repeated very positively. “How + do they manage it? I don’t know; but I mean to know, and you are to find + out. If you can put me on the tracks of this intrigue, your son is a + notary.” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t you fret yourself so, Monsieur le Baron,” said Madame Olivier. + “Madame cares for you, and for no one but you; her maid knows that for + true, and we say, between her and me, that you are the luckiest man in + this world—for you know what madame is.—Just perfection! + </p> + <p> + “She gets up at ten every morning; then she breakfasts. Well and good. + After that she takes an hour or so to dress; that carries her on till two; + then she goes for a walk in the Tuileries in the sight of all men, and she + is always in by four to be ready for you. She lives like clockwork. She + keeps no secrets from her maid, and Reine keeps nothing from me, you may + be sure. Reine can’t if she would—along of my son, for she is very + sweet upon him. So, you see, if madame had any intimacy with Monsieur + Crevel, we should be bound to know it.” + </p> + <p> + The Baron went upstairs again with a beaming countenance, convinced that + he was the only man in the world to that shameless slut, as treacherous, + but as lovely and as engaging as a siren. + </p> + <p> + Crevel and Marneffe had begun a second rubber at piquet. Crevel was + losing, as a man must who is not giving his thoughts to his game. + Marneffe, who knew the cause of the Mayor’s absence of mind, took + unscrupulous advantage of it; he looked at the cards in reverse, and + discarded accordingly; thus, knowing his adversary’s hand, he played to + beat him. The stake being a franc a point, he had already robbed the Mayor + of thirty francs when Hulot came in. + </p> + <p> + “Hey day!” said he, amazed to find no company. “Are you alone? Where is + everybody gone?” + </p> + <p> + “Your pleasant temper put them all to flight,” said Crevel. + </p> + <p> + “No, it was my wife’s cousin,” replied Marneffe. “The ladies and gentlemen + supposed that Valerie and Henri might have something to say to each other + after three years’ separation, and they very discreetly retired.—If + I had been in the room, I would have kept them; but then, as it happens, + it would have been a mistake, for Lisbeth, who always comes down to make + tea at half-past ten, was taken ill, and that upset everything—” + </p> + <p> + “Then is Lisbeth really unwell?” asked Crevel in a fury. + </p> + <p> + “So I was told,” replied Marneffe, with the heartless indifference of a + man to whom women have ceased to exist. + </p> + <p> + The Mayor looked at the clock; and, calculating the time, the Baron seemed + to have spent forty minutes in Lisbeth’s rooms. Hector’s jubilant + expression seriously incriminated Valerie, Lisbeth, and himself. + </p> + <p> + “I have just seen her; she is in great pain, poor soul!” said the Baron. + </p> + <p> + “Then the sufferings of others must afford you much joy, my friend,” + retorted Crevel with acrimony, “for you have come down with a face that is + positively beaming. Is Lisbeth likely to die? For your daughter, they say, + is her heiress. You are not like the same man. You left this room looking + like the Moor of Venice, and you come back with the air of Saint-Preux!—I + wish I could see Madame Marneffe’s face at this minute——” + </p> + <p> + “And pray, what do you mean by that?” said Marneffe to Crevel, packing his + cards and laying them down in front of him. + </p> + <p> + A light kindled in the eyes of this man, decrepit at the age of + forty-seven; a faint color flushed his flaccid cold cheeks, his + ill-furnished mouth was half open, and on his blackened lips a sort of + foam gathered, thick, and as white as chalk. This fury in such a helpless + wretch, whose life hung on a thread, and who in a duel would risk nothing + while Crevel had everything to lose, frightened the Mayor. + </p> + <p> + “I said,” repeated Crevel, “that I should like to see Madame Marneffe’s + face. And with all the more reason since yours, at this moment, is most + unpleasant. On my honor, you are horribly ugly, my dear Marneffe——” + </p> + <p> + “Do you know that you are very uncivil?” + </p> + <p> + “A man who has won thirty francs of me in forty-five minutes cannot look + handsome in my eyes.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, if you had but seen me seventeen years ago!” replied the clerk. + </p> + <p> + “You were so good-looking?” asked Crevel. + </p> + <p> + “That was my ruin; now, if I had been like you—I might be a mayor + and a peer.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Crevel, with a smile, “you have been too much in the wars; and + of the two forms of metal that may be earned by worshiping the god of + trade, you have taken the worse—the dross!” [This dialogue is + garnished with puns for which it is difficult to find any English + equivalent.] And Crevel roared with laughter. Though Marneffe could take + offence if his honor were in peril, he always took these rough + pleasantries in good part; they were the small coin of conversation + between him and Crevel. + </p> + <p> + “The daughters of Eve cost me dear, no doubt; but, by the powers! ‘Short + and sweet’ is my motto.” + </p> + <p> + “‘Long and happy’ is more to my mind,” returned Crevel. + </p> + <p> + Madame Marneffe now came in; she saw that her husband was at cards with + Crevel, and only the Baron in the room besides; a mere glance at the + municipal dignitary showed her the frame of mind he was in, and her line + of conduct was at once decided on. + </p> + <p> + “Marneffe, my dear boy,” said she, leaning on her husband’s shoulder, and + passing her pretty fingers through his dingy gray hair, but without + succeeding in covering his bald head with it, “it is very late for you; + you ought to be in bed. To-morrow, you know, you must dose yourself by the + doctor’s orders. Reine will give you your herb tea at seven. If you wish + to live, give up your game.” + </p> + <p> + “We will pay it out up to five points,” said Marneffe to Crevel. + </p> + <p> + “Very good—I have scored two,” replied the Mayor. + </p> + <p> + “How long will it take you?” + </p> + <p> + “Ten minutes,” said Marneffe. + </p> + <p> + “It is eleven o’clock,” replied Valerie. “Really, Monsieur Crevel, one + might fancy you meant to kill my husband. Make haste, at any rate.” + </p> + <p> + This double-barreled speech made Crevel and Hulot smile, and even Marneffe + himself. Valerie sat down to talk to Hector. + </p> + <p> + “You must leave, my dearest,” said she in Hulot’s ear. “Walk up and down + the Rue Vanneau, and come in again when you see Crevel go out.” + </p> + <p> + “I would rather leave this room and go into your room through the + dressing-room door. You could tell Reine to let me in.” + </p> + <p> + “Reine is upstairs attending to Lisbeth.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, suppose then I go up to Lisbeth’s rooms?” + </p> + <p> + Danger hemmed in Valerie on every side; she foresaw a discussion with + Crevel, and could not allow Hulot to be in her room, where he could hear + all that went on.—And the Brazilian was upstairs with Lisbeth. + </p> + <p> + “Really, you men, when you have a notion in your head, you would burn a + house down to get into it!” exclaimed she. “Lisbeth is not in a fit state + to admit you.—Are you afraid of catching cold in the street? Be off + there—or good-night.” + </p> + <p> + “Good evening, gentlemen,” said the Baron to the other two. + </p> + <p> + Hulot, when piqued in his old man’s vanity, was bent on proving that he + could play the young man by waiting for the happy hour in the open air, + and he went away. + </p> + <p> + Marneffe bid his wife good-night, taking her hands with a semblance of + devotion. Valerie pressed her husband’s hand with a significant glance, + conveying: + </p> + <p> + “Get rid of Crevel.” + </p> + <p> + “Good-night, Crevel,” said Marneffe. “I hope you will not stay long with + Valerie. Yes! I am jealous—a little late in the day, but it has me + hard and fast. I shall come back to see if you are gone.” + </p> + <p> + “We have a little business to discuss, but I shall not stay long,” said + Crevel. + </p> + <p> + “Speak low.—What is it?” said Valerie, raising her voice, and + looking at him with a mingled expression of haughtiness and scorn. + </p> + <p> + Crevel, as he met this arrogant stare, though he was doing Valerie + important services, and had hoped to plume himself on the fact, was at + once reduced to submission. + </p> + <p> + “That Brazilian——” he began, but, overpowered by Valerie’s + fixed look of contempt, he broke off. + </p> + <p> + “What of him?” said she. + </p> + <p> + “That cousin—” + </p> + <p> + “Is no cousin of mine,” said she. “He is my cousin to the world and to + Monsieur Marneffe. And if he were my lover, it would be no concern of + yours. A tradesman who pays a woman to be revenged on another man, is, in + my opinion, beneath the man who pays her for love of her. You did not care + for me; all you saw in me was Monsieur Hulot’s mistress. You bought me as + a man buys a pistol to kill his adversary. I wanted bread—I accepted + the bargain.” + </p> + <p> + “But you have not carried it out,” said Crevel, the tradesman once more. + </p> + <p> + “You want Baron Hulot to be told that you have robbed him of his mistress, + to pay him out for having robbed you of Josepha? Nothing can more clearly + prove your baseness. You say you love a woman, you treat her like a + duchess, and then you want to degrade her? Well, my good fellow, and you + are right. This woman is no match for Josepha. That young person has the + courage of her disgrace, while I—I am a hypocrite, and deserve to be + publicly whipped.—Alas! Josepha is protected by her cleverness and + her wealth. I have nothing to shelter me but my reputation; I am still the + worthy and blameless wife of a plain citizen; if you create a scandal, + what is to become of me? If I were rich, then indeed; but my income is + fifteen thousand francs a year at most, I suppose.” + </p> + <p> + “Much more than that,” said Crevel. “I have doubled your savings in these + last two months by investing in <i>Orleans</i>.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, a position in Paris begins with fifty thousand. And you certainly + will not make up to me for the position I should surrender.—What was + my aim? I want to see Marneffe a first-class clerk; he will then draw a + salary of six thousand francs. He has been twenty-seven years in his + office; within three years I shall have a right to a pension of fifteen + hundred francs when he dies. You, to whom I have been entirely kind, to + whom I have given your fill of happiness—you cannot wait!—And + that is what men call love!” she exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “Though I began with an ulterior purpose,” said Crevel, “I have become + your poodle. You trample on my heart, you crush me, you stultify me, and I + love you as I have never loved in my life. Valerie, I love you as much as + I love my Celestine. I am capable of anything for your sake.—Listen, + instead of coming twice a week to the Rue du Dauphin, come three times.” + </p> + <p> + “Is that all! You are quite young again, my dear boy!” + </p> + <p> + “Only let me pack off Hulot, humiliate him, rid you of him,” said Crevel, + not heeding her impertinence! “Have nothing to say to the Brazilian, be + mine alone; you shall not repent of it. To begin with, I will give you + eight thousand francs a year, secured by bond, but only as an annuity; I + will not give you the capital till the end of five years’ constancy—” + </p> + <p> + “Always a bargain! A tradesman can never learn to give. You want to stop + for refreshments on the road of love—in the form of Government + bonds! Bah! Shopman, pomatum seller! you put a price on everything!—Hector + told me that the Duc d’Herouville gave Josepha a bond for thirty thousand + francs a year in a packet of sugar almonds! And I am worth six of Josepha. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! to be loved!” she went on, twisting her ringlets round her fingers, + and looking at herself in the glass. “Henri loves me. He would smash you + like a fly if I winked at him! Hulot loves me; he leaves his wife in + beggary! As for you, go my good man, be the worthy father of a family. You + have three hundred thousand francs over and above your fortune, only to + amuse yourself, a hoard, in fact, and you think of nothing but increasing + it—” + </p> + <p> + “For you, Valerie, since I offer you half,” said he, falling on his knees. + </p> + <p> + “What, still here!” cried Marneffe, hideous in his dressing-gown. “What + are you about?” + </p> + <p> + “He is begging my pardon, my dear, for an insulting proposal he has dared + to make me. Unable to obtain my consent, my gentleman proposed to pay me——” + </p> + <p> + Crevel only longed to vanish into the cellar, through a trap, as is done + on the stage. + </p> + <p> + “Get up, Crevel,” said Marneffe, laughing, “you are ridiculous. I can see + by Valerie’s manner that my honor is in no danger.” + </p> + <p> + “Go to bed and sleep in peace,” said Madame Marneffe. + </p> + <p> + “Isn’t she clever?” thought Crevel. “She has saved me. She is adorable!” + </p> + <p> + As Marneffe disappeared, the Mayor took Valerie’s hands and kissed them, + leaving on them the traces of tears. + </p> + <p> + “It shall all stand in your name,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “That is true love,” she whispered in his ear. “Well, love for love. Hulot + is below, in the street. The poor old thing is waiting to return when I + place a candle in one of the windows of my bedroom. I give you leave to + tell him that you are the man I love; he will refuse to believe you; take + him to the Rue du Dauphin, give him every proof, crush him; I allow it—I + order it! I am tired of that old seal; he bores me to death. Keep your man + all night in the Rue du Dauphin, grill him over a slow fire, be revenged + for the loss of Josepha. Hulot may die of it perhaps, but we shall save + his wife and children from utter ruin. Madame Hulot is working for her + bread—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! poor woman! On my word, it is quite shocking!” exclaimed Crevel, his + natural feeling coming to the top. + </p> + <p> + “If you love me, Celestin,” said she in Crevel’s ear, which she touched + with her lips, “keep him there, or I am done for. Marneffe is suspicious. + Hector has a key of the outer gate, and will certainly come back.” + </p> + <p> + Crevel clasped Madame Marneffe to his heart, and went away in the seventh + heaven of delight. Valerie fondly escorted him to the landing, and then + followed him, like a woman magnetized, down the stairs to the very bottom. + </p> + <p> + “My Valerie, go back, do not compromise yourself before the porters.—Go + back; my life, my treasure, all is yours.—Go in, my duchess!” + </p> + <p> + “Madame Olivier,” Valerie called gently when the gate was closed. + </p> + <p> + “Why, madame! You here?” said the woman in bewilderment. + </p> + <p> + “Bolt the gates at top and bottom, and let no one in.” + </p> + <p> + “Very good, madame.” + </p> + <p> + Having barred the gate, Madame Olivier told of the bribe that the War + Office chief had tried to offer her. + </p> + <p> + “You behaved like an angel, my dear Olivier; we shall talk of that + to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + Valerie flew like an arrow to the third floor, tapped three times at + Lisbeth’s door, and then went down to her room, where she gave + instructions to Mademoiselle Reine, for a woman must make the most of the + opportunity when a Montes arrives from Brazil. + </p> + <p> + “By Heaven! only a woman of the world is capable of such love,” said + Crevel to himself. “How she came down those stairs, lighting them up with + her eyes, following me! Never did Josepha—Josepha! she is cag-mag!” + cried the ex-bagman. “What have I said? <i>Cag-mag</i>—why, I might + have let the word slip out at the Tuileries! I can never do any good + unless Valerie educates me—and I was so bent on being a gentleman.—What + a woman she is! She upsets me like a fit of the colic when she looks at me + coldly. What grace! What wit! Never did Josepha move me so. And what + perfection when you come to know her!—Ha, there is my man!” + </p> + <p> + He perceived in the gloom of the Rue de Babylone the tall, somewhat + stooping figure of Hulot, stealing along close to a boarding, and he went + straight up to him. + </p> + <p> + “Good-morning, Baron, for it is past midnight, my dear fellow. What the + devil are your doing here? You are airing yourself under a pleasant + drizzle. That is not wholesome at our time of life. Will you let me give + you a little piece of advice? Let each of us go home; for, between you and + me, you will not see the candle in the window.” + </p> + <p> + The last words made the Baron suddenly aware that he was sixty-three, and + that his cloak was wet. + </p> + <p> + “Who on earth told you—?” he began. + </p> + <p> + “Valerie, of course, <i>our</i> Valerie, who means henceforth to be <i>my</i> + Valerie. We are even now, Baron; we will play off the tie when you please. + You have nothing to complain of; you know, I always stipulated for the + right of taking my revenge; it took you three months to rob me of Josepha; + I took Valerie from you in—We will say no more about that. Now I + mean to have her all to myself. But we can be very good friends, all the + same.” + </p> + <p> + “Crevel, no jesting,” said Hulot, in a voice choked by rage. “It is a + matter of life and death.” + </p> + <p> + “Bless me, is that how you take it!—Baron, do you not remember what + you said to me the day of Hortense’s marriage: ‘Can two old gaffers like + us quarrel over a petticoat? It is too low, too common. We are <i>Regence</i>, + we agreed, Pompadour, eighteenth century, quite the Marechal Richelieu, + Louis XV., nay, and I may say, <i>Liaisons dangereuses</i>!” + </p> + <p> + Crevel might have gone on with his string of literary allusions; the Baron + heard him as a deaf man listens when he is but half deaf. But, seeing in + the gaslight the ghastly pallor of his face, the triumphant Mayor stopped + short. This was, indeed, a thunderbolt after Madame Olivier’s asservations + and Valerie’s parting glance. + </p> + <p> + “Good God! And there are so many other women in Paris!” he said at last. + </p> + <p> + “That is what I said to you when you took Josepha,” said Crevel. + </p> + <p> + “Look here, Crevel, it is impossible. Give me some proof.—Have you a + key, as I have, to let yourself in?” + </p> + <p> + And having reached the house, the Baron put the key into the lock; but the + gate was immovable; he tried in vain to open it. + </p> + <p> + “Do not make a noise in the streets at night,” said Crevel coolly. “I tell + you, Baron, I have far better proof than you can show.” + </p> + <p> + “Proofs! give me proof!” cried the Baron, almost crazy with exasperation. + </p> + <p> + “Come, and you shall have them,” said Crevel. + </p> + <p> + And in obedience to Valerie’s instructions, he led the Baron away towards + the quay, down the Rue Hillerin-Bertin. The unhappy Baron walked on, as a + merchant walks on the day before he stops payment; he was lost in + conjectures as to the reasons of the depravity buried in the depths of + Valerie’s heart, and still believed himself the victim of some practical + joke. As they crossed the Pont Royal, life seemed to him so blank, so + utterly a void, and so out of joint from his financial difficulties, that + he was within an ace of yielding to the evil prompting that bid him fling + Crevel into the river and throw himself in after. + </p> + <p> + On reaching the Rue du Dauphin, which had not yet been widened, Crevel + stopped before a door in a wall. It opened into a long corridor paved with + black-and-white marble, and serving as an entrance-hall, at the end of + which there was a flight of stairs and a doorkeeper’s lodge, lighted from + an inner courtyard, as is often the case in Paris. This courtyard, which + was shared with another house, was oddly divided into two unequal + portions. Crevel’s little house, for he owned it, had additional rooms + with a glass skylight, built out on to the adjoining plot, under + conditions that it should have no story added above the ground floor, so + that the structure was entirely hidden by the lodge and the projecting + mass of the staircase. + </p> + <p> + This back building had long served as a store-room, backshop, and kitchen + to one of the shops facing the street. Crevel had cut off these three + rooms from the rest of the ground floor, and Grindot had transformed them + into an inexpensive private residence. There were two ways in—from + the front, through the shop of a furniture-dealer, to whom Crevel let it + at a low price, and only from month to month, so as to be able to get rid + of him in case of his telling tales, and also through a door in the wall + of the passage, so ingeniously hidden as to be almost invisible. The + little apartment, comprising a dining-room, drawing-room, and bedroom, all + lighted from above, and standing partly on Crevel’s ground and partly on + his neighbor’s, was very difficult to find. With the exception of the + second-hand furniture-dealer, the tenants knew nothing of the existence of + this little paradise. + </p> + <p> + The doorkeeper, paid to keep Crevel’s secrets, was a capital cook. So + Monsieur le Maire could go in and out of his inexpensive retreat at any + hour of the night without any fear of being spied upon. By day, a lady, + dressed as Paris women dress to go shopping, and having a key, ran no risk + in coming to Crevel’s lodgings; she would stop to look at the cheapened + goods, ask the price, go into the shop, and come out again, without + exciting the smallest suspicion if any one should happen to meet her. + </p> + <p> + As soon as Crevel had lighted the candles in the sitting-room, the Baron + was surprised at the elegance and refinement it displayed. The perfumer + had given the architect a free hand, and Grindot had done himself credit + by fittings in the Pompadour style, which had in fact cost sixty thousand + francs. + </p> + <p> + “What I want,” said Crevel to Grindot, “is that a duchess, if I brought + one there, should be surprised at it.” + </p> + <p> + He wanted to have a perfect Parisian Eden for his Eve, his “real lady,” + his Valerie, his duchess. + </p> + <p> + “There are two beds,” said Crevel to Hulot, showing him a sofa that could + be made wide enough by pulling out a drawer. “This is one, the other is in + the bedroom. We can both spend the night here.” + </p> + <p> + “Proof!” was all the Baron could say. + </p> + <p> + Crevel took a flat candlestick and led Hulot into the adjoining room, + where he saw, on a sofa, a superb dressing-gown belonging to Valerie, + which he had seen her wear in the Rue Vanneau, to display it before + wearing it in Crevel’s little apartment. The Mayor pressed the spring of a + little writing-table of inlaid work, known as a <i>bonheur-du-jour</i>, + and took out of it a letter that he handed to the Baron. + </p> + <p> + “Read that,” said he. + </p> + <p> + The Councillor read these words written in pencil: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “I have waited in vain, you old wretch! A woman of my quality does + not expect to be kept waiting by a retired perfumer. There was no + dinner ordered—no cigarettes. I will make you pay for this!” + </pre> + <p> + “Well, is that her writing?” + </p> + <p> + “Good God!” gasped Hulot, sitting down in dismay. “I see all the things + she uses—her caps, her slippers. Why, how long since—?” + </p> + <p> + Crevel nodded that he understood, and took a packet of bills out of the + little inlaid cabinet. + </p> + <p> + “You can see, old man. I paid the decorators in December, 1838. In + October, two months before, this charming little place was first used.” + </p> + <p> + Hulot bent his head. + </p> + <p> + “How the devil do you manage it? I know how she spends every hour of her + day.” + </p> + <p> + “How about her walk in the Tuileries?” said Crevel, rubbing his hands in + triumph. + </p> + <p> + “What then?” said Hulot, mystified. + </p> + <p> + “Your lady love comes to the Tuileries, she is supposed to be airing + herself from one till four. But, hop, skip, and jump, and she is here. You + know your Moliere? Well, Baron, there is nothing imaginary in your title.” + </p> + <p> + Hulot, left without a shred of doubt, sat sunk in ominous silence. + Catastrophes lead intelligent and strong-minded men to be philosophical. + The Baron, morally, was at this moment like a man trying to find his way + by night through a forest. This gloomy taciturnity and the change in that + dejected countenance made Crevel very uneasy, for he did not wish the + death of his colleague. + </p> + <p> + “As I said, old fellow, we are now even; let us play for the odd. Will you + play off the tie by hook and by crook? Come!” + </p> + <p> + “Why,” said Hulot, talking to himself—“why is it that out of ten + pretty women at least seven are false?” + </p> + <p> + But the Baron was too much upset to answer his own question. Beauty is the + greatest of human gifts for power. Every power that has no counterpoise, + no autocratic control, leads to abuses and folly. Despotism is the madness + of power; in women the despot is caprice. + </p> + <p> + “You have nothing to complain of, my good friend; you have a beautiful + wife, and she is virtuous.” + </p> + <p> + “I deserve my fate,” said Hulot. “I have undervalued my wife and made her + miserable, and she is an angel! Oh, my poor Adeline! you are avenged! She + suffers in solitude and silence, and she is worthy of my love; I ought—for + she is still charming, fair and girlish even—But was there ever a + woman known more base, more ignoble, more villainous than this Valerie?” + </p> + <p> + “She is a good-for-nothing slut,” said Crevel, “a hussy that deserves + whipping on the Place du Chatelet. But, my dear Canillac, though we are + such blades, so Marechal de Richelieu, Louis XV., Pompadour, Madame du + Barry, gay dogs, and everything that is most eighteenth century, there is + no longer a lieutenant of police.” + </p> + <p> + “How can we make them love us?” Hulot wondered to himself without heeding + Crevel. + </p> + <p> + “It is sheer folly in us to expect to be loved, my dear fellow,” said + Crevel. “We can only be endured; for Madame Marneffe is a hundred times + more profligate than Josepha.” + </p> + <p> + “And avaricious! she costs me a hundred and ninety-two thousand francs a + year!” cried Hulot. + </p> + <p> + “And how many centimes!” sneered Crevel, with the insolence of a financier + who scorns so small a sum. + </p> + <p> + “You do not love her, that is very evident,” said the Baron dolefully. + </p> + <p> + “I have had enough of her,” replied Crevel, “for she has had more than + three hundred thousand francs of mine!” + </p> + <p> + “Where is it? Where does it all go?” said the Baron, clasping his head in + his hands. + </p> + <p> + “If we had come to an agreement, like the simple young men who combine to + maintain a twopenny baggage, she would have cost us less.” + </p> + <p> + “That is an idea”! replied the Baron. “But she would still be cheating us; + for, my burly friend, what do you say to this Brazilian?” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, old sly fox, you are right, we are swindled like—like + shareholders!” said Crevel. “All such women are an unlimited liability, + and we the sleeping partners.” + </p> + <p> + “Then it was she who told you about the candle in the window?” + </p> + <p> + “My good man,” replied Crevel, striking an attitude, “she has fooled us + both. Valerie is a—She told me to keep you here.—Now I see it + all. She has got her Brazilian!—Oh, I have done with her, for if you + hold her hands, she would find a way to cheat you with her feet! There! + she is a minx, a jade!” + </p> + <p> + “She is lower than a prostitute,” said the Baron. “Josepha and Jenny + Cadine were in their rights when they were false to us; they make a trade + of their charms.” + </p> + <p> + “But she, who affects the saint—the prude!” said Crevel. “I tell you + what, Hulot, do you go back to your wife; your money matters are not + looking well; I have heard talk of certain notes of hand given to a low + usurer whose special line of business is lending to these sluts, a man + named Vauvinet. For my part, I am cured of your ‘real ladies.’ And, after + all, at our time of life what do we want of these swindling hussies, who, + to be honest, cannot help playing us false? You have white hair and false + teeth; I am of the shape of Silenus. I shall go in for saving. Money never + deceives one. Though the Treasury is indeed open to all the world twice a + year, it pays you interest, and this woman swallows it. With you, my + worthy friend, as Gubetta, as my partner in the concern, I might have + resigned myself to a shady bargain—no, a philosophical calm. But + with a Brazilian who has possibly smuggled in some doubtful colonial + produce——” + </p> + <p> + “Woman is an inexplicable creature!” said Hulot. + </p> + <p> + “I can explain her,” said Crevel. “We are old; the Brazilian is young and + handsome.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; that, I own, is true,” said Hulot; “we are older than we were. But, + my dear fellow, how is one to do without these pretty creatures—seeing + them undress, twist up their hair, smile cunningly through their fingers + as they screw up their curl-papers, put on all their airs and graces, tell + all their lies, declare that we don’t love them when we are worried with + business; and they cheer us in spite of everything.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, by the Power! It is the only pleasure in life!” cried Crevel. “When + a saucy little mug smiles at you and says, ‘My old dear, you don’t know + how nice you are! I am not like other women, I suppose, who go crazy over + mere boys with goats’ beards, smelling of smoke, and as coarse as + serving-men! For in their youth they are so insolent!—They come in + and they bid you good-morning, and out they go.—I, whom you think + such a flirt, I prefer a man of fifty to these brats. A man who will stick + by me, who is devoted, who knows a woman is not to be picked up every day, + and appreciates us.—That is what I love you for, you old monster!’—and + they fill up these avowals with little pettings and prettinesses and—Faugh! + they are as false as the bills on the Hotel de Ville.” + </p> + <p> + “A lie is sometimes better than the truth,” said Hulot, remembering sundry + bewitching scenes called up by Crevel, who mimicked Valerie. “They are + obliged to act upon their lies, to sew spangles on their stage frocks—” + </p> + <p> + “And they are ours, after all, the lying jades!” said Crevel coarsely. + </p> + <p> + “Valerie is a witch,” said the Baron. “She can turn an old man into a + young one.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes!” said Crevel, “she is an eel that wriggles through your hands; + but the prettiest eel, as white and sweet as sugar, as amusing as Arnal—and + ingenious!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, she is full of fun,” said Hulot, who had now quite forgotten his + wife. + </p> + <p> + The colleagues went to bed the best friends in the world, reminding each + other of Valerie’s perfections, the tones of her voice, her kittenish way, + her movements, her fun, her sallies of wit, and of affections; for she was + an artist in love, and had charming impulses, as tenors may sing a scena + better one day than another. And they fell asleep, cradled in tempting and + diabolical visions lighted by the fires of hell. + </p> + <p> + At nine o’clock next morning Hulot went off to the War Office, Crevel had + business out of town; they left the house together, and Crevel held out + his hand to the Baron, saying: + </p> + <p> + “To show that there is no ill-feeling. For we, neither of us, will have + anything more to say to Madame Marneffe?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, this is the end of everything,” replied Hulot with a sort of horror. + </p> + <p> + By half-past ten Crevel was mounting the stairs, four at a time, up to + Madame Marneffe’s apartment. He found the infamous wretch, the adorable + enchantress, in the most becoming morning wrapper, enjoying an elegant + little breakfast in the society of the Baron Montes de Montejanos and + Lisbeth. Though the sight of the Brazilian gave him a shock, Crevel begged + Madame Marneffe to grant him two minutes’ speech with her. Valerie led + Crevel into the drawing-room. + </p> + <p> + “Valerie, my angel,” said the amorous Mayor, “Monsieur Marneffe cannot + have long to live. If you will be faithful to me, when he dies we will be + married. Think it over. I have rid you of Hulot.—So just consider + whether this Brazilian is to compare with a Mayor of Paris, a man who, for + your sake, will make his way to the highest dignities, and who can already + offer you eighty-odd thousand francs a year.” + </p> + <p> + “I will think it over,” said she. “You will see me in the Rue du Dauphin + at two o’clock, and we can discuss the matter. But be a good boy—and + do not forget the bond you promised to transfer to me.” + </p> + <p> + She returned to the dining-room, followed by Crevel, who flattered himself + that he had hit on a plan for keeping Valerie to himself; but there he + found Baron Hulot, who, during this short colloquy, had also arrived with + the same end in view. He, like Crevel, begged for a brief interview. + Madame Marneffe again rose to go to the drawing-room, with a smile at the + Brazilian that seemed to say, “What fools they are! Cannot they see you?” + </p> + <p> + “Valerie,” said the official, “my child, that cousin of yours is an + American cousin—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, that is enough!” she cried, interrupting the Baron. “Marneffe never + has been, and never will be, never can be my husband! The first, the only + man I ever loved, has come back quite unexpectedly. It is no fault of + mine! But look at Henri and look at yourself. Then ask yourself whether a + woman, and a woman in love, can hesitate for a moment. My dear fellow, I + am not a kept mistress. From this day forth I refuse to play the part of + Susannah between the two Elders. If you really care for me, you and + Crevel, you will be our friends; but all else is at an end, for I am + six-and-twenty, and henceforth I mean to be a saint, an admirable and + worthy wife—as yours is.” + </p> + <p> + “Is that what you have to say?” answered Hulot. “Is this the way you + receive me when I come like a Pope with my hands full of Indulgences?—Well, + your husband will never be a first-class clerk, nor be promoted in the + Legion of Honor.” + </p> + <p> + “That remains to be seen,” said Madame Marneffe, with a meaning look at + Hulot. + </p> + <p> + “Well, well, no temper,” said Hulot in despair. “I will call this evening, + and we will come to an understanding.” + </p> + <p> + “In Lisbeth’s rooms then.” + </p> + <p> + “Very good—at Lisbeth’s,” said the old dotard. + </p> + <p> + Hulot and Crevel went downstairs together without speaking a word till + they were in the street; but outside on the sidewalk they looked at each + other with a dreary laugh. + </p> + <p> + “We are a couple of old fools,” said Crevel. + </p> + <p> + “I have got rid of them,” said Madame Marneffe to Lisbeth, as she sat down + once more. “I never loved and I never shall love any man but my Jaguar,” + she added, smiling at Henri Montes. “Lisbeth, my dear, you don’t know. + Henri has forgiven me the infamy to which I was reduced by poverty.” + </p> + <p> + “It was my own fault,” said the Brazilian. “I ought to have sent you a + hundred thousand francs.” + </p> + <p> + “Poor boy!” said Valerie; “I might have worked for my living, but my + fingers were not made for that—ask Lisbeth.” + </p> + <p> + The Brazilian went away the happiest man in Paris. + </p> + <p> + At noon Valerie and Lisbeth were chatting in the splendid bedroom where + this dangerous woman was giving to her dress those finishing touches which + a lady alone can give. The doors were bolted, the curtains drawn over + them, and Valerie related in every detail all the events of the evening, + the night, the morning. + </p> + <p> + “What do you think of it all, my darling?” she said to Lisbeth in + conclusion. “Which shall I be when the time comes—Madame Crevel, or + Madame Montes?” + </p> + <p> + “Crevel will not last more than ten years, such a profligate as he is,” + replied Lisbeth. “Montes is young. Crevel will leave you about thirty + thousand francs a year. Let Montes wait; he will be happy enough as + Benjamin. And so, by the time you are three-and-thirty, if you take care + of your looks, you may marry your Brazilian and make a fine show with + sixty thousand francs a year of your own—especially under the wing + of a Marechale.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but Montes is a Brazilian; he will never make his mark,” observed + Valerie. + </p> + <p> + “We live in the day of railways,” said Lisbeth, “when foreigners rise to + high positions in France.” + </p> + <p> + “We shall see,” replied Valerie, “when Marneffe is dead. He has not much + longer to suffer.” + </p> + <p> + “These attacks that return so often are a sort of physical remorse,” said + Lisbeth. “Well, I am off to see Hortense.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes—go, my angel!” replied Valerie. “And bring me my artist.—Three + years, and I have not gained an inch of ground! It is a disgrace to both + of us!—Wenceslas and Henri—these are my two passions—one + for love, the other for fancy.” + </p> + <p> + “You are lovely this morning,” said Lisbeth, putting her arm round + Valerie’s waist and kissing her forehead. “I enjoy all your pleasures, + your good fortune, your dresses—I never really lived till the day + when we became sisters.” + </p> + <p> + “Wait a moment, my tiger-cat!” cried Valerie, laughing; “your shawl is + crooked. You cannot put a shawl on yet in spite of my lessons for three + years—and you want to be Madame la Marechale Hulot!” + </p> + <p> + Shod in prunella boots, over gray silk stockings, in a gown of handsome + corded silk, her hair in smooth bands under a very pretty black velvet + bonnet, lined with yellow satin, Lisbeth made her way to the Rue + Saint-Dominique by the Boulevard des Invalides, wondering whether sheer + dejection would at last break down Hortense’s brave spirit, and whether + Sarmatian instability, taken at a moment when, with such a character, + everything is possible, would be too much for Steinbock’s constancy. + </p> + <p> + Hortense and Wenceslas had the ground floor of a house situated at the + corner of the Rue Saint-Dominique and the Esplanade des Invalides. These + rooms, once in harmony with the honeymoon, now had that half-new, + half-faded look that may be called the autumnal aspect of furniture. Newly + married folks are as lavish and wasteful, without knowing it or intending + it, of everything about them as they are of their affection. Thinking only + of themselves, they reck little of the future, which, at a later time, + weighs on the mother of a family. + </p> + <p> + Lisbeth found Hortense just as she had finished dressing a baby Wenceslas, + who had been carried into the garden. + </p> + <p> + “Good-morning, Betty,” said Hortense, opening the door herself to her + cousin. The cook was gone out, and the house-servant, who was also the + nurse, was doing some washing. + </p> + <p> + “Good-morning, dear child,” replied Lisbeth, kissing her. “Is Wenceslas in + the studio?” she added in a whisper. + </p> + <p> + “No; he is in the drawing-room talking to Stidmann and Chanor.” + </p> + <p> + “Can we be alone?” asked Lisbeth. + </p> + <p> + “Come into my room.” + </p> + <p> + In this room, the hangings of pink-flowered chintz with green leaves on a + white ground, constantly exposed to the sun, were much faded, as was the + carpet. The muslin curtains had not been washed for many a day. The smell + of tobacco hung about the room; for Wenceslas, now an artist of repute, + and born a fine gentleman, left his cigar-ash on the arms of the chairs + and the prettiest pieces of furniture, as a man does to whom love allows + everything—a man rich enough to scorn vulgar carefulness. + </p> + <p> + “Now, then, let us talk over your affairs,” said Lisbeth, seeing her + pretty cousin silent in the armchair into which she had dropped. “But what + ails you? You look rather pale, my dear.” + </p> + <p> + “Two articles have just come out in which my poor Wenceslas is pulled to + pieces; I have read them, but I have hidden them from him, for they would + completely depress him. The marble statue of Marshal Montcornet is + pronounced utterly bad. The bas-reliefs are allowed to pass muster, simply + to allow of the most perfidious praise of his talent as a decorative + artist, and to give the greater emphasis to the statement that serious art + is quite out of his reach! Stidmann, whom I besought to tell me the truth, + broke my heart by confessing that his own opinion agreed with that of + every other artist, of the critics, and the public. He said to me in the + garden before breakfast, ‘If Wenceslas cannot exhibit a masterpiece next + season, he must give up heroic sculpture and be content to execute idyllic + subjects, small figures, pieces of jewelry, and high-class goldsmiths’ + work!’ This verdict is dreadful to me, for Wenceslas, I know, will never + accept it; he feels he has so many fine ideas.” + </p> + <p> + “Ideas will not pay the tradesman’s bills,” remarked Lisbeth. “I was + always telling him so—nothing but money. Money is only to be had for + work done—things that ordinary folks like well enough to buy them. + When an artist has to live and keep a family, he had far better have a + design for a candlestick on his counter, or for a fender or a table, than + for groups or statues. Everybody must have such things, while he may wait + months for the admirer of the group—and for his money—-” + </p> + <p> + “You are right, my good Lisbeth. Tell him all that; I have not the + courage.—Besides, as he was saying to Stidmann, if he goes back to + ornamental work and small sculpture, he must give up all hope of the + Institute and grand works of art, and we should not get the three hundred + thousand francs’ worth of work promised at Versailles and by the City of + Paris and the Ministers. That is what we are robbed of by those dreadful + articles, written by rivals who want to step into our shoes.” + </p> + <p> + “And that is not what you dreamed of, poor little puss!” said Lisbeth, + kissing Hortense on the brow. “You expected to find a gentleman, a leader + of Art, the chief of all living sculptors.—But that is poetry, you + see, a dream requiring fifty thousand francs a year, and you have only two + thousand four hundred—so long as I live. After my death three + thousand.” + </p> + <p> + A few tears rose to Hortense’s eyes, and Lisbeth drank them with her eyes + as a cat laps milk. + </p> + <p> + This is the story of their honeymoon—the tale will perhaps not be + lost on some artists. + </p> + <p> + Intellectual work, labor in the upper regions of mental effort, is one of + the grandest achievements of man. That which deserves real glory in Art—for + by Art we must understand every creation of the mind—is courage + above all things—a sort of courage of which the vulgar have no + conception, and which has never perhaps been described till now. + </p> + <p> + Driven by the dreadful stress of poverty, goaded by Lisbeth, and kept by + her in blinders, as a horse is, to hinder it from seeing to the right and + left of its road, lashed on by that hard woman, the personification of + Necessity, a sort of deputy Fate, Wenceslas, a born poet and dreamer, had + gone on from conception to execution, and overleaped, without sounding it, + the gulf that divides these two hemispheres of Art. To muse, to dream, to + conceive of fine works, is a delightful occupation. It is like smoking a + magic cigar or leading the life of a courtesan who follows her own fancy. + The work then floats in all the grace of infancy, in the mad joy of + conception, with the fragrant beauty of a flower, and the aromatic juices + of a fruit enjoyed in anticipation. + </p> + <p> + The man who can sketch his purpose beforehand in words is regarded as a + wonder, and every artist and writer possesses that faculty. But gestation, + fruition, the laborious rearing of the offspring, putting it to bed every + night full fed with milk, embracing it anew every morning with the + inexhaustible affection of a mother’s heart, licking it clean, dressing it + a hundred times in the richest garb only to be instantly destroyed; then + never to be cast down at the convulsions of this headlong life till the + living masterpiece is perfected which in sculpture speaks to every eye, in + literature to every intellect, in painting to every memory, in music to + every heart!—This is the task of execution. The hand must be ready + at every instant to come forward and obey the brain. But the brain has no + more a creative power at command than love has a perennial spring. + </p> + <p> + The habit of creativeness, the indefatigable love of motherhood which + makes a mother—that miracle of nature which Raphael so perfectly + understood—the maternity of the brain, in short, which is so + difficult to develop, is lost with prodigious ease. Inspiration is the + opportunity of genius. She does not indeed dance on the razor’s edge, she + is in the air and flies away with the suspicious swiftness of a crow; she + wears no scarf by which the poet can clutch her; her hair is a flame; she + vanishes like the lovely rose and white flamingo, the sportsman’s despair. + And work, again, is a weariful struggle, alike dreaded and delighted in by + these lofty and powerful natures who are often broken by it. A great poet + of our day has said in speaking of this overwhelming labor, “I sit down to + it in despair, but I leave it with regret.” Be it known to all who are + ignorant! If the artist does not throw himself into his work as Curtius + sprang into the gulf, as a soldier leads a forlorn hope without a moment’s + thought, and if when he is in the crater he does not dig on as a miner + does when the earth has fallen in on him; if he contemplates the + difficulties before him instead of conquering them one by one, like the + lovers in fairy tales, who to win their princesses overcome ever new + enchantments, the work remains incomplete; it perishes in the studio where + creativeness becomes impossible, and the artist looks on at the suicide of + his own talent. + </p> + <p> + Rossini, a brother genius to Raphael, is a striking instance in his + poverty-stricken youth, compared with his latter years of opulence. This + is the reason why the same prize, the same triumph, the same bays are + awarded to great poets and to great generals. + </p> + <p> + Wenceslas, by nature a dreamer, had expended so much energy in production, + in study, and in work under Lisbeth’s despotic rule, that love and + happiness resulted in reaction. His real character reappeared, the + weakness, recklessness, and indolence of the Sarmatian returned to nestle + in the comfortable corners of his soul, whence the schoolmaster’s rod had + routed them. + </p> + <p> + For the first few months the artist adored his wife. Hortense and + Wenceslas abandoned themselves to the happy childishness of a legitimate + and unbounded passion. Hortense was the first to release her husband from + his labors, proud to triumph over her rival, his Art. And, indeed, a + woman’s caresses scare away the Muse, and break down the sturdy, brutal + resolution of the worker. + </p> + <p> + Six or seven months slipped by, and the artist’s fingers had forgotten the + use of the modeling tool. When the need for work began to be felt, when + the Prince de Wissembourg, president of the committee of subscribers, + asked to see the statue, Wenceslas spoke the inevitable byword of the + idler, “I am just going to work on it,” and he lulled his dear Hortense + with fallacious promises and the magnificent schemes of the artist as he + smokes. Hortense loved her poet more than ever; she dreamed of a sublime + statue of Marshal Montcornet. Montcornet would be the embodied ideal of + bravery, the type of the cavalry officer, of courage <i>a la Murat</i>. + Yes, yes; at the mere sight of that statue all the Emperor’s victories + were to seem a foregone conclusion. And then such workmanship! The pencil + was accommodating and answered to the word. + </p> + <p> + By way of a statue the result was a delightful little Wenceslas. + </p> + <p> + When the progress of affairs required that he should go to the studio at + le Gros-Caillou to mould the clay and set up the life-size model, + Steinbock found one day that the Prince’s clock required his presence in + the workshop of Florent and Chanor, where the figures were being finished; + or, again, the light was gray and dull; to-day he had business to do, + to-morrow they had a family dinner, to say nothing of indispositions of + mind and body, and the days when he stayed at home to toy with his adored + wife. + </p> + <p> + Marshal the Prince de Wissembourg was obliged to be angry to get the clay + model finished; he declared that he must put the work into other hands. It + was only by dint of endless complaints and much strong language that the + committee of subscribers succeeded in seeing the plaster-cast. Day after + day Steinbock came home, evidently tired, complaining of this “hodman’s + work” and his own physical weakness. During that first year the household + felt no pinch; the Countess Steinbock, desperately in love with her + husband cursed the War Minister. She went to see him; she told him that + great works of art were not to be manufactured like cannon; and that the + State—like Louis XIV., Francis I., and Leo X.—ought to be at + the beck and call of genius. Poor Hortense, believing she held a Phidias + in her embrace, had the sort of motherly cowardice for her Wenceslas that + is in every wife who carries her love to the pitch of idolatry. + </p> + <p> + “Do not be hurried,” said she to her husband, “our whole future life is + bound up with that statue. Take your time and produce a masterpiece.” + </p> + <p> + She would go to the studio, and then the enraptured Steinbock wasted five + hours out of seven in describing the statue instead of working at it. He + thus spent eighteen months in finishing the design, which to him was + all-important. + </p> + <p> + When the plaster was cast and the model complete, poor Hortense, who had + looked on at her husband’s toil, seeing his health really suffer from the + exertions which exhaust a sculptor’s frame and arms and hands—Hortense + thought the result admirable. Her father, who knew nothing of sculpture, + and her mother, no less ignorant, lauded it as a triumph; the War Minister + came with them to see it, and, overruled by them, expressed approval of + the figure, standing as it did alone, in a favorable light, thrown up + against a green baize background. + </p> + <p> + Alas! at the exhibition of 1841, the disapprobation of the public soon + took the form of abuse and mockery in the mouths of those who were + indignant with the idol too hastily set up for worship. Stidmann tried to + advise his friend, but was accused of jealousy. Every article in a + newspaper was to Hortense an outcry of envy. Stidmann, the best of good + fellows, got articles written, in which adverse criticism was contravened, + and it was pointed out that sculptors altered their works in translating + the plaster into marble, and that the marble would be the test. + </p> + <p> + “In reproducing the plaster sketch in marble,” wrote Claude Vignon, “a + masterpiece may be ruined, or a bad design made beautiful. The plaster is + the manuscript, the marble is the book.” + </p> + <p> + So in two years and a half Wenceslas had produced a statue and a son. The + child was a picture of beauty; the statue was execrable. + </p> + <p> + The clock for the Prince and the price of the statue paid off the young + couple’s debts. Steinbock had acquired fashionable habits; he went to the + play, to the opera; he talked admirably about art; and in the eyes of the + world he maintained his reputation as a great artist by his powers of + conversation and criticism. There are many clever men in Paris who spend + their lives in talking themselves out, and are content with a sort of + drawing-room celebrity. Steinbock, emulating these emasculated but + charming men, grew every day more averse to hard work. As soon as he began + a thing, he was conscious of all its difficulties, and the discouragement + that came over him enervated his will. Inspiration, the frenzy of + intellectual procreation, flew swiftly away at the sight of this effete + lover. + </p> + <p> + Sculpture—like dramatic art—is at once the most difficult and + the easiest of all arts. You have but to copy a model, and the task is + done; but to give it a soul, to make it typical by creating a man or a + woman—this is the sin of Prometheus. Such triumphs in the annals of + sculpture may be counted, as we may count the few poets among men. Michael + Angelo, Michel Columb, Jean Goujon, Phidias, Praxiteles, Polycletes, + Puget, Canova, Albert Durer, are the brothers of Milton, Virgil, Dante, + Shakespeare, Tasso, Homer, and Moliere. And such an achievement is so + stupendous that a single statue is enough to make a man immortal, as + Figaro, Lovelace, and Manon Lescaut have immortalized Beaumarchais, + Richardson, and the Abbe Prevost. + </p> + <p> + Superficial thinkers—and there are many in the artist world—have + asserted that sculpture lives only by the nude, that it died with the + Greeks, and that modern vesture makes it impossible. But, in the first + place, the Ancients have left sublime statues entirely clothed—the + <i>Polyhymnia</i>, the <i>Julia</i>, and others, and we have not found + one-tenth of all their works; and then, let any lover of art go to + Florence and see Michael Angelo’s <i>Penseroso</i>, or to the Cathedral of + Mainz, and behold the <i>Virgin</i> by Albert Durer, who has created a + living woman out of ebony, under her threefold drapery, with the most + flowing, the softest hair that ever a waiting-maid combed through; let all + the ignorant flock thither, and they will acknowledge that genius can give + mind to drapery, to armor, to a robe, and fill it with a body, just as a + man leaves the stamp of his individuality and habits of life on the + clothes he wears. + </p> + <p> + Sculpture is the perpetual realization of the fact which once, and never + again, was, in painting called Raphael! + </p> + <p> + The solution of this hard problem is to be found only in constant + persevering toil; for, merely to overcome the material difficulties to + such an extent, the hand must be so practised, so dexterous and obedient, + that the sculptor may be free to struggle soul to soul with the elusive + moral element that he has to transfigure as he embodies it. If Paganini, + who uttered his soul through the strings of his violin, spent three days + without practising, he lost what he called the <i>stops</i> of his + instrument, meaning the sympathy between the wooden frame, the strings, + the bow, and himself; if he had lost this alliance, he would have been no + more than an ordinary player. + </p> + <p> + Perpetual work is the law of art, as it is the law of life, for art is + idealized creation. Hence great artists and perfect poets wait neither for + commission nor for purchasers. They are constantly creating—to-day, + to-morrow, always. The result is the habit of work, the unfailing + apprehension of the difficulties which keep them in close intercourse with + the Muse and her productive forces. Canova lived in his studio, as + Voltaire lived in his study; and so must Homer and Phidias have lived. + </p> + <p> + While Lisbeth kept Wenceslas Steinbock in thraldom in his garret, he was + on the thorny road trodden by all these great men, which leads to the + Alpine heights of glory. Then happiness, in the person of Hortense, had + reduced the poet to idleness—the normal condition of all artists, + since to them idleness is fully occupied. Their joy is such as that of the + pasha of a seraglio; they revel with ideas, they get drunk at the founts + of intellect. Great artists, such as Steinbock, wrapped in reverie, are + rightly spoken of as dreamers. They, like opium-eaters, all sink into + poverty, whereas if they had been kept up to the mark by the stern demands + of life, they might have been great men. + </p> + <p> + At the same time, these half-artists are delightful; men like them and + cram them with praise; they even seem superior to the true artists, who + are taxed with conceit, unsociableness, contempt of the laws of society. + This is why: Great men are the slaves of their work. Their indifference to + outer things, their devotion to their work, make simpletons regard them as + egotists, and they are expected to wear the same garb as the dandy who + fulfils the trivial evolutions called social duties. These men want the + lions of the Atlas to be combed and scented like a lady’s poodle. + </p> + <p> + These artists, who are too rarely matched to meet their fellows, fall into + habits of solitary exclusiveness; they are inexplicable to the majority, + which, as we know, consists mostly of fools—of the envious, the + ignorant, and the superficial. + </p> + <p> + Now you may imagine what part a wife should play in the life of these + glorious and exceptional beings. She ought to be what, for five years, + Lisbeth had been, but with the added offering of love, humble and patient + love, always ready and always smiling. + </p> + <p> + Hortense, enlightened by her anxieties as a mother, and driven by dire + necessity, had discovered too late the mistakes she had been involuntarily + led into by her excessive love. Still, the worthy daughter of her mother, + her heart ached at the thought of worrying Wenceslas; she loved her dear + poet too much to become his torturer; and she could foresee the hour when + beggary awaited her, her child, and her husband. + </p> + <p> + “Come, come, my child,” said Lisbeth, seeing the tears in her cousin’s + lovely eyes, “you must not despair. A glassful of tears will not buy a + plate of soup. How much do you want?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, five or six thousand francs.” + </p> + <p> + “I have but three thousand at the most,” said Lisbeth. “And what is + Wenceslas doing now?” + </p> + <p> + “He has had an offer to work in partnership with Stidmann at a table + service for the Duc d’Herouville for six thousand francs. Then Monsieur + Chanor will advance four thousand to repay Monsieur de Lora and Bridau—a + debt of honor.” + </p> + <p> + “What, you have had the money for the statue and the bas-reliefs for + Marshal Montcornet’s monument, and you have not paid them yet?” + </p> + <p> + “For the last three years,” said Hortense, “we have spent twelve thousand + francs a year, and I have but a hundred louis a year of my own. The + Marshal’s monument, when all the expenses were paid, brought us no more + than sixteen thousand francs. Really and truly, if Wenceslas gets no work, + I do not know what is to become of us. Oh, if only I could learn to make + statues, I would handle the clay!” she cried, holding up her fine arms. + </p> + <p> + The woman, it was plain, fulfilled the promise of the girl; there was a + flash in her eye; impetuous blood, strong with iron, flowed in her veins; + she felt that she was wasting her energy in carrying her infant. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, my poor little thing! a sensible girl should not marry an artist till + his fortune is made—not while it is still to make.” + </p> + <p> + At this moment they heard voices; Stidmann and Wenceslas were seeing + Chanor to the door; then Wenceslas and Stidmann came in again. + </p> + <p> + Stidmann, an artist in vogue in the world of journalists, famous + actresses, and courtesans of the better class, was a young man of fashion + whom Valerie much wished to see in her rooms; indeed, he had already been + introduced to her by Claude Vignon. Stidmann had lately broken off an + intimacy with Madame Schontz, who had married some months since and gone + to live in the country. Valerie and Lisbeth, hearing of this upheaval from + Claude Vignon, thought it well to get Steinbock’s friend to visit in the + Rue Vanneau. + </p> + <p> + Stidmann, out of good feeling, went rarely to the Steinbocks’; and as it + happened that Lisbeth was not present when he was introduced by Claude + Vignon, she now saw him for the first time. As she watched this noted + artist, she caught certain glances from his eyes at Hortense, which + suggested to her the possibility of offering him to the Countess Steinbock + as a consolation if Wenceslas should be false to her. In point of fact, + Stidmann was reflecting that if Steinbock were not his friend, Hortense, + the young and superbly beautiful countess, would be an adorable mistress; + it was this very notion, controlled by honor, that kept him away from the + house. Lisbeth was quick to mark the significant awkwardness that troubles + a man in the presence of a woman with whom he will not allow himself to + flirt. + </p> + <p> + “Very good-looking—that young man,” said she in a whisper to + Hortense. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, do you think so?” she replied. “I never noticed him.” + </p> + <p> + “Stidmann, my good fellow,” said Wenceslas, in an undertone to his friend, + “we are on no ceremony, you and I—we have some business to settle + with this old girl.” + </p> + <p> + Stidmann bowed to the ladies and went away. + </p> + <p> + “It is settled,” said Wenceslas, when he came in from taking leave of + Stidmann. “But there are six months’ work to be done, and we must live + meanwhile.” + </p> + <p> + “There are my diamonds,” cried the young Countess, with the impetuous + heroism of a loving woman. + </p> + <p> + A tear rose in Wenceslas’ eye. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I am going to work,” said he, sitting down by his wife and drawing + her on to his knee. “I will do odd jobs—a wedding chest, bronze + groups——” + </p> + <p> + “But, my children,” said Lisbeth; “for, as you know, you will be my heirs, + and I shall leave you a very comfortable sum, believe me, especially if + you help me to marry the Marshal; nay, if we succeed in that quickly, I + will take you all to board with me—you and Adeline. We should live + very happily together.—But for the moment, listen to the voice of my + long experience. Do not fly to the Mont-de-Piete; it is the ruin of the + borrower. I have always found that when the interest was due, those who + had pledged their things had nothing wherewith to pay up, and then all is + lost. I can get you a loan at five per cent on your note of hand.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, we are saved!” said Hortense. + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, child, Wenceslas had better come with me to see the lender, + who will oblige him at my request. It is Madame Marneffe. If you flatter + her a little—for she is as vain as a <i>parvenue</i>—she will + get you out of the scrape in the most obliging way. Come yourself and see + her, my dear Hortense.” + </p> + <p> + Hortense looked at her husband with the expression a man condemned to + death must wear on his way to the scaffold. + </p> + <p> + “Claude Vignon took Stidmann there,” said Wenceslas. “He says it is a very + pleasant house.” + </p> + <p> + Hortense’s head fell. What she felt can only be expressed in one word; it + was not pain; it was illness. + </p> + <p> + “But, my dear Hortense, you must learn something of life!” exclaimed + Lisbeth, understanding the eloquence of her cousin’s looks. “Otherwise, + like your mother, you will find yourself abandoned in a deserted room, + where you will weep like Calypso on the departure of Ulysses, and at an + age when there is no hope of Telemachus—” she added, repeating a + jest of Madame Marneffe’s. “We have to regard the people in the world as + tools which we can make use of or let alone, according as they can serve + our turn. Make use of Madame Marneffe now, my dears, and let her alone by + and by. Are you afraid lest Wenceslas, who worships you, should fall in + love with a woman four or five years older than himself, as yellow as a + bundle of field peas, and——?” + </p> + <p> + “I would far rather pawn my diamonds,” said Hortense. “Oh, never go there, + Wenceslas!—It is hell!” + </p> + <p> + “Hortense is right,” said Steinbock, kissing his wife. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, my dearest,” said Hortense, delighted. “My husband is an + angel, you see, Lisbeth. He does not gamble, he goes nowhere without me; + if he only could stick to work—oh, I should be too happy. Why take + us on show to my father’s mistress, a woman who is ruining him and is the + cause of troubles that are killing my heroic mother?” + </p> + <p> + “My child, that is not where the cause of your father’s ruin lies. It was + his singer who ruined him, and then your marriage!” replied her cousin. + “Bless me! why, Madame Marneffe is of the greatest use to him. However, I + must tell no tales.” + </p> + <p> + “You have a good word for everybody, dear Betty—” + </p> + <p> + Hortense was called into the garden by hearing the child cry; Lisbeth was + left alone with Wenceslas. + </p> + <p> + “You have an angel for your wife, Wenceslas!” said she. “Love her as you + ought; never give her cause for grief.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, indeed, I love her so well that I do not tell her all,” replied + Wenceslas; “but to you, Lisbeth, I may confess the truth.—If I took + my wife’s diamonds to the Monte-de-Piete, we should be no further + forward.” + </p> + <p> + “Then borrow of Madame Marneffe,” said Lisbeth. “Persuade Hortense, + Wenceslas, to let you go there, or else, bless me! go there without + telling her.” + </p> + <p> + “That is what I was thinking of,” replied Wenceslas, “when I refused for + fear of grieving Hortense.” + </p> + <p> + “Listen to me; I care too much for you both not to warn you of your + danger. If you go there, hold your heart tight in both hands, for the + woman is a witch. All who see her adore her; she is so wicked, so + inviting! She fascinates men like a masterpiece. Borrow her money, but do + not leave your soul in pledge. I should never be happy again if you were + false to Hortense—here she is! not another word! I will settle the + matter.” + </p> + <p> + “Kiss Lisbeth, my darling,” said Wenceslas to his wife. “She will help us + out of our difficulties by lending us her savings.” + </p> + <p> + And he gave Lisbeth a look which she understood. + </p> + <p> + “Then, I hope you mean to work, my dear treasure,” said Hortense. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, indeed,” said the artist. “I will begin to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + “To-morrow is our ruin!” said his wife, with a smile. + </p> + <p> + “Now, my dear child! say yourself whether some hindrance has not come in + the way every day; some obstacle or business?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, very true, my love.” + </p> + <p> + “Here!” cried Steinbock, striking his brow, “here I have swarms of ideas! + I mean to astonish all my enemies. I am going to design a service in the + German style of the sixteenth century; the romantic style: foliage twined + with insects, sleeping children, newly invented monsters, chimeras—real + chimeras, such as we dream of!—I see it all! It will be undercut, + light, and yet crowded. Chanor was quite amazed.—And I wanted some + encouragement, for the last article on Montcornet’s monument had been + crushing.” + </p> + <p> + At a moment in the course of the day when Lisbeth and Wenceslas were left + together, the artist agreed to go on the morrow to see Madame Marneffe—he + either would win his wife’s consent, or he would go without telling her. + </p> + <p> + Valerie, informed the same evening of this success, insisted that Hulot + should go to invite Stidmann, Claude Vignon, and Steinbock to dinner; for + she was beginning to tyrannize over him as women of that type tyrannize + over old men, who trot round town, and go to make interest with every one + who is necessary to the interests or the vanity of their task-mistress. + </p> + <p> + Next evening Valerie armed herself for conquest by making such a toilet as + a Frenchwoman can devise when she wishes to make the most of herself. She + studied her appearance in this great work as a man going out to fight a + duel practises his feints and lunges. Not a speck, not a wrinkle was to be + seen. Valerie was at her whitest, her softest, her sweetest. And certain + little “patches” attracted the eye. + </p> + <p> + It is commonly supposed that the patch of the eighteenth century is out of + date or out of fashion; that is a mistake. In these days women, more + ingenious perhaps than of yore, invite a glance through the opera-glass by + other audacious devices. One is the first to hit on a rosette in her hair + with a diamond in the centre, and she attracts every eye for a whole + evening; another revives the hair-net, or sticks a dagger through the + twist to suggest a garter; this one wears velvet bands round her wrists, + that one appears in lace lippets. These valiant efforts, an Austerlitz of + vanity or of love, then set the fashion for lower spheres by the time the + inventive creatress has originated something new. This evening, which + Valerie meant to be a success for her, she had placed three patches. She + had washed her hair with some lye, which changed its hue for a few days + from a gold color to a duller shade. Madame Steinbock’s was almost red, + and she would be in every point unlike her. This new effect gave her a + piquant and strange appearance, which puzzled her followers so much, that + Montes asked her: + </p> + <p> + “What have you done to yourself this evening?”—Then she put on a + rather wide black velvet neck-ribbon, which showed off the whiteness of + her skin. One patch took the place of the <i>assassine</i> of our + grandmothers. And Valerie pinned the sweetest rosebud into her bodice, + just in the middle above the stay-busk, and in the daintiest little + hollow! It was enough to make every man under thirty drop his eyelids. + </p> + <p> + “I am as sweet as a sugar-plum,” said she to herself, going through her + attitudes before the glass, exactly as a dancer practises her curtesies. + </p> + <p> + Lisbeth had been to market, and the dinner was to be one of those + superfine meals which Mathurine had been wont to cook for her Bishop when + he entertained the prelate of the adjoining diocese. + </p> + <p> + Stidmann, Claude Vignon, and Count Steinbock arrived almost together, just + at six. An ordinary, or, if you will, a natural woman would have hastened + at the announcement of a name so eagerly longed for; but Valerie, though + ready since five o’clock, remained in her room, leaving her three guests + together, certain that she was the subject of their conversation or of + their secret thoughts. She herself had arranged the drawing-room, laying + out the pretty trifles produced in Paris and nowhere else, which reveal + the woman and announce her presence: albums bound in enamel or embroidered + with beads, saucers full of pretty rings, marvels of Sevres or Dresden + mounted exquisitely by Florent and Chanor, statues, books, all the + frivolities which cost insane sums, and which passion orders of the makers + in its first delirium—or to patch up its last quarrel. + </p> + <p> + Besides, Valerie was in the state of intoxication that comes of triumph. + She had promised to marry Crevel if Marneffe should die; and the amorous + Crevel had transferred to the name of Valerie Fortin bonds bearing ten + thousand francs a year, the sum-total of what he had made in railway + speculations during the past three years, the returns on the capital of a + hundred thousand crowns which he had at first offered to the Baronne + Hulot. So Valerie now had an income of thirty-two thousand francs. + </p> + <p> + Crevel had just committed himself to a promise of far greater magnitude + than this gift of his surplus. In the paroxysm of rapture which <i>his + Duchess</i> had given him from two to four—he gave this fine title + to Madame <i>de</i> Marneffe to complete the illusion—for Valerie + had surpassed herself in the Rue du Dauphin that afternoon, he had thought + well to encourage her in her promised fidelity by giving her the prospect + of a certain little mansion, built in the Rue Barbette by an imprudent + contractor, who now wanted to sell it. Valerie could already see herself + in this delightful residence, with a fore-court and a garden, and keeping + a carriage! + </p> + <p> + “What respectable life can ever procure so much in so short a time, or so + easily?” said she to Lisbeth as she finished dressing. Lisbeth was to dine + with Valerie that evening, to tell Steinbock those things about the lady + which nobody can say about herself. + </p> + <p> + Madame Marneffe, radiant with satisfaction, came into the drawing-room + with modest grace, followed by Lisbeth dressed in black and yellow to set + her off. + </p> + <p> + “Good-evening, Claude,” said she, giving her hand to the famous old + critic. + </p> + <p> + Claude Vignon, like many another, had become a political personage—a + word describing an ambitious man at the first stage of his career. The <i>political + personage</i> of 1840 represents, in some degree, the <i>Abbe</i> of the + eighteenth century. No drawing-room circle is complete without one. + </p> + <p> + “My dear, this is my cousin, Count Steinbock,” said Lisbeth, introducing + Wenceslas, whom Valerie seemed to have overlooked. + </p> + <p> + “Oh yes, I recognized Monsieur le Comte,” replied Valerie with a gracious + bow to the artist. “I often saw you in the Rue du Doyenne, and I had the + pleasure of being present at your wedding.—It would be difficult, my + dear,” said she to Lisbeth, “to forget your adopted son after once seeing + him.—It is most kind of you, Monsieur Stidmann,” she went on, “to + have accepted my invitation at such short notice; but necessity knows no + law. I knew you to be the friend of both these gentlemen. Nothing is more + dreary, more sulky, than a dinner where all the guests are strangers, so + it was for their sake that I hailed you in—but you will come another + time for mine, I hope?—Say that you will.” + </p> + <p> + And for a few minutes she moved about the room with Stidmann, wholly + occupied with him. + </p> + <p> + Crevel and Hulot were announced separately, and then a deputy named + Beauvisage. + </p> + <p> + This individual, a provincial Crevel, one of the men created to make up + the crowd in the world, voted under the banner of Giraud, a State + Councillor, and Victorin Hulot. These two politicians were trying to form + a nucleus of progressives in the loose array of the Conservative Party. + Giraud himself occasionally spent the evening at Madame Marneffe’s, and + she flattered herself that she should also capture Victorin Hulot; but the + puritanical lawyer had hitherto found excuses for refusing to accompany + his father and father-in-law. It seemed to him criminal to be seen in the + house of the woman who cost his mother so many tears. Victorin Hulot was + to the puritans of political life what a pious woman is among bigots. + </p> + <p> + Beauvisage, formerly a stocking manufacturer at Arcis, was anxious to <i>pick + up the Paris style</i>. This man, one of the outer stones of the Chamber, + was forming himself under the auspices of this delicious and fascinating + Madame Marneffe. Introduced here by Crevel, he had accepted him, at her + instigation, as his model and master. He consulted him on every point, + took the address of his tailor, imitated him, and tried to strike the same + attitudes. In short, Crevel was his Great Man. + </p> + <p> + Valerie, surrounded by these bigwigs and the three artists, and supported + by Lisbeth, struck Wenceslas as a really superior woman, all the more so + because Claude Vignon spoke of her like a man in love. + </p> + <p> + “She is Madame de Maintenon in Ninon’s petticoats!” said the veteran + critic. “You may please her in an evening if you have the wit; but as for + making her love you—that would be a triumph to crown a man’s + ambition and fill up his life.” + </p> + <p> + Valerie, while seeming cold and heedless of her former neighbor, piqued + his vanity, quite unconsciously indeed, for she knew nothing of the Polish + character. There is in the Slav a childish element, as there is in all + these primitively wild nations which have overflowed into civilization + rather than that they have become civilized. The race has spread like an + inundation, and has covered a large portion of the globe. It inhabits + deserts whose extent is so vast that it expands at its ease; there is no + jostling there, as there is in Europe, and civilization is impossible + without the constant friction of minds and interests. The Ukraine, Russia, + the plains by the Danube, in short, the Slav nations, are a connecting + link between Europe and Asia, between civilization and barbarism. Thus the + Pole, the wealthiest member of the Slav family, has in his character all + the childishness and inconsistency of a beardless race. He has courage, + spirit, and strength; but, cursed with instability, that courage, + strength, and energy have neither method nor guidance; for the Pole + displays a variability resembling that of the winds which blow across that + vast plain broken with swamps; and though he has the impetuosity of the + snow squalls that wrench and sweep away buildings, like those aerial + avalanches he is lost in the first pool and melts into water. Man always + assimilates something from the surroundings in which he lives. Perpetually + at strife with the Turk, the Pole has imbibed a taste for Oriental + splendor; he often sacrifices what is needful for the sake of display. The + men dress themselves out like women, yet the climate has given them the + tough constitution of Arabs. + </p> + <p> + The Pole, sublime in suffering, has tired his oppressors’ arms by sheer + endurance of beating; and, in the nineteenth century, has reproduced the + spectacle presented by the early Christians. Infuse only ten per cent of + English cautiousness into the frank and open Polish nature, and the + magnanimous white eagle would at this day be supreme wherever the + two-headed eagle has sneaked in. A little Machiavelism would have hindered + Poland from helping to save Austria, who has taken a share of it; from + borrowing from Prussia, the usurer who had undermined it; and from + breaking up as soon as a division was first made. + </p> + <p> + At the christening of Poland, no doubt, the Fairy Carabosse, overlooked by + the genii who endowed that attractive people with the most brilliant + gifts, came in to say: + </p> + <p> + “Keep all the gifts that my sisters have bestowed on you; but you shall + never know what you wish for!” + </p> + <p> + If, in its heroic duel with Russia, Poland had won the day, the Poles + would now be fighting among themselves, as they formerly fought in their + Diets to hinder each other from being chosen King. When that nation, + composed entirely of hot-headed dare-devils, has good sense enough to seek + a Louis XI. among her own offspring, to accept his despotism and a + dynasty, she will be saved. + </p> + <p> + What Poland has been politically, almost every Pole is in private life, + especially under the stress of disaster. Thus Wenceslas Steinbock, after + worshiping his wife for three years and knowing that he was a god to her, + was so much nettled at finding himself barely noticed by Madame Marneffe, + that he made it a point of honor to attract her attention. He compared + Valerie with his wife and gave her the palm. Hortense was beautiful flesh, + as Valerie had said to Lisbeth; but Madame Marneffe had spirit in her very + shape, and the savor of vice. + </p> + <p> + Such devotion as Hortense’s is a feeling which a husband takes as his due; + the sense of the immense preciousness of such perfect love soon wears off, + as a debtor, in the course of time, begins to fancy that the borrowed + money is his own. This noble loyalty becomes the daily bread of the soul, + and an infidelity is as tempting as a dainty. The woman who is scornful, + and yet more the woman who is reputed dangerous, excites curiosity, as + spices add flavor to good food. Indeed, the disdain so cleverly acted by + Valerie was a novelty to Wenceslas, after three years of too easy + enjoyment. Hortense was a wife; Valerie a mistress. + </p> + <p> + Many men desire to have two editions of the same work, though it is in + fact a proof of inferiority when a man cannot make his mistress of his + wife. Variety in this particular is a sign of weakness. Constancy will + always be the real genius of love, the evidence of immense power—the + power that makes the poet! A man ought to find every woman in his wife, as + the squalid poets of the seventeenth century made their Manons figure as + Iris and Chloe. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Lisbeth to the Pole, as she beheld him fascinated, “what do + you think of Valerie?” + </p> + <p> + “She is too charming,” replied Wenceslas. + </p> + <p> + “You would not listen to me,” said Betty. “Oh! my little Wenceslas, if you + and I had never parted, you would have been that siren’s lover; you might + have married her when she was a widow, and you would have had her forty + thousand francs a year——” + </p> + <p> + “Really?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly,” replied Lisbeth. “Now, take care of yourself; I warned you of + the danger; do not singe your wings in the candle!—Come, give me + your arm, dinner is served.” + </p> + <p> + No language could be so thoroughly demoralizing as this; for if you show a + Pole a precipice, he is bound to leap it. As a nation they have the very + spirit of cavalry; they fancy they can ride down every obstacle and come + out victorious. The spur applied by Lisbeth to Steinbock’s vanity was + intensified by the appearance of the dining-room, bright with handsome + silver plate; the dinner was served with every refinement and extravagance + of Parisian luxury. + </p> + <p> + “I should have done better to take Celimene,” thought he to himself. + </p> + <p> + All through the dinner Hulot was charming; pleased to see his son-in-law + at that table, and yet more happy in the prospect of a reconciliation with + Valerie, whose fidelity he proposed to secure by the promise of Coquet’s + head-clerkship. Stidmann responded to the Baron’s amiability by shafts of + Parisian banter and an artist’s high spirits. Steinbock would not allow + himself to be eclipsed by his friend; he too was witty, said amusing + things, made his mark, and was pleased with himself; Madame Marneffe + smiled at him several times to show that she quite understood him. + </p> + <p> + The good meal and heady wines completed the work; Wenceslas was deep in + what must be called the slough of dissipation. Excited by just a glass too + much, he stretched himself on a settee after dinner, sunk in physical and + mental ecstasy, which Madame Marneffe wrought to the highest pitch by + coming to sit down by him—airy, scented, pretty enough to damn an + angel. She bent over Wenceslas and almost touched his ear as she whispered + to him: + </p> + <p> + “We cannot talk over business matters this evening, unless you will remain + till the last. Between us—you, Lisbeth, and me—we can settle + everything to suit you.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, Madame, you are an angel!” replied Wenceslas, also in a murmur. “I + was a pretty fool not to listen to Lisbeth—” + </p> + <p> + “What did she say?” + </p> + <p> + “She declared, in the Rue du Doyenne, that you loved me!” + </p> + <p> + Madame Marneffe looked at him, seemed covered with confusion, and hastily + left her seat. A young and pretty woman never rouses the hope of immediate + success with impunity. This retreat, the impulse of a virtuous woman who + is crushing a passion in the depths of her heart, was a thousand times + more effective than the most reckless avowal. Desire was so thoroughly + aroused in Wenceslas that he doubled his attentions to Valerie. A woman + seen by all is a woman wished for. Hence the terrible power of actresses. + Madame Marneffe, knowing that she was watched, behaved like an admired + actress. She was quite charming, and her success was immense. + </p> + <p> + “I no longer wonder at my father-in-law’s follies,” said Steinbock to + Lisbeth. + </p> + <p> + “If you say such things, Wenceslas, I shall to my dying day repent of + having got you the loan of these ten thousand francs. Are you, like all + these men,” and she indicated the guests, “madly in love with that + creature? Remember, you would be your father-in-law’s rival. And think of + the misery you would bring on Hortense.” + </p> + <p> + “That is true,” said Wenceslas. “Hortense is an angel; I should be a + wretch.” + </p> + <p> + “And one is enough in the family!” said Lisbeth. + </p> + <p> + “Artists ought never to marry!” exclaimed Steinbock. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! that is what I always told you in the Rue du Doyenne. Your groups, + your statues, your great works, ought to be your children.” + </p> + <p> + “What are you talking about?” Valerie asked, joining Lisbeth.—“Give + us tea, Cousin.” + </p> + <p> + Steinbock, with Polish vainglory, wanted to appear familiar with this + drawing-room fairy. After defying Stidmann, Vignon, and Crevel with a + look, he took Valerie’s hand and forced her to sit down by him on the + settee. + </p> + <p> + “You are rather too lordly, Count Steinbock,” said she, resisting a + little. But she laughed as she dropped on to the seat, not without + arranging the rosebud pinned into her bodice. + </p> + <p> + “Alas! if I were really lordly,” said he, “I should not be here to borrow + money.” + </p> + <p> + “Poor boy! I remember how you worked all night in the Rue du Doyenne. You + really were rather a spooney; you married as a starving man snatches a + loaf. You knew nothing of Paris, and you see where you are landed. But you + turned a deaf ear to Lisbeth’s devotion, as you did to the love of a woman + who knows her Paris by heart.” + </p> + <p> + “Say no more!” cried Steinbock; “I am done for!” + </p> + <p> + “You shall have your ten thousand francs, my dear Wenceslas; but on one + condition,” she went on, playing with his handsome curls. + </p> + <p> + “What is that?” + </p> + <p> + “I will take no interest——” + </p> + <p> + “Madame!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you need not be indignant; you shall make it good by giving me a + bronze group. You began the story of Samson; finish it.—Do a Delilah + cutting off the Jewish Hercules’ hair. And you, who, if you will listen to + me, will be a great artist, must enter into the subject. What you have to + show is the power of woman. Samson is a secondary consideration. He is the + corpse of dead strength. It is Delilah—passion—that ruins + everything. How far more beautiful is that <i>replica</i>—That is + what you call it, I think—” She skilfully interpolated, as Claude + Vignon and Stidmann came up to them on hearing her talk of sculpture—“how + far more beautiful than the Greek myth is that <i>replica</i> of Hercules + at Omphale’s feet.—Did Greece copy Judaea, or did Judaea borrow the + symbolism from Greece?” + </p> + <p> + “There, madame, you raise an important question—that of the date of + the various writings in the Bible. The great and immortal Spinoza—most + foolishly ranked as an atheist, whereas he gave mathematical proof of the + existence of God—asserts that the Book of Genesis and all the + political history of the Bible are of the time of Moses, and he + demonstrates the interpolated passages by philological evidence. And he + was thrice stabbed as he went into the synagogue.” + </p> + <p> + “I had no idea I was so learned,” said Valerie, annoyed at this + interruption to her <i>tete-a-tete</i>. + </p> + <p> + “Women know everything by instinct,” replied Claude Vignon. + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, you promise me?” she said to Steinbock, taking his hand with + the timidity of a girl in love. + </p> + <p> + “You are indeed a happy man, my dear fellow,” cried Stidmann, “if madame + asks a favor of you!” + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” asked Claude Vignon. + </p> + <p> + “A small bronze group,” replied Steinbock, “Delilah cutting off Samson’s + hair.” + </p> + <p> + “It is difficult,” remarked Vignon. “A bed——” + </p> + <p> + “On the contrary, it is exceedingly easy,” replied Valerie, smiling. + </p> + <p> + “Ah ha! teach us sculpture!” said Stidmann. + </p> + <p> + “You should take madame for your subject,” replied Vignon, with a keen + glance at Valerie. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” she went on, “this is my notion of the composition. Samson on + waking finds he has no hair, like many a dandy with a false top-knot. The + hero is sitting on the bed, so you need only show the foot of it, covered + with hangings and drapery. There he is, like Marius among the ruins of + Carthage, his arms folded, his head shaven—Napoleon at Saint-Helena—what + you will! Delilah is on her knees, a good deal like Canova’s Magdalen. + When a hussy has ruined her man, she adores him. As I see it, the Jewess + was afraid of Samson in his strength and terrors, but she must have loved + him when she saw him a child again. So Delilah is bewailing her sin, she + would like to give her lover his hair again. She hardly dares to look at + him; but she does look, with a smile, for she reads forgiveness in + Samson’s weakness. Such a group as this, and one of the ferocious Judith, + would epitomize woman. Virtue cuts off your head; vice only cuts off your + hair. Take care of your wigs, gentlemen!” + </p> + <p> + And she left the artists quite overpowered, to sing her praises in concert + with the critic. + </p> + <p> + “It is impossible to be more bewitching!” cried Stidmann. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! she is the most intelligent and desirable woman I have ever met,” + said Claude Vignon. “Such a combination of beauty and cleverness is so + rare.” + </p> + <p> + “And if you who had the honor of being intimate with Camille Maupin can + pronounce such a verdict,” replied Stidmann, “what are we to think?” + </p> + <p> + “If you will make your Delilah a portrait of Valerie, my dear Count,” said + Crevel, who had risen for a moment from the card-table, and who had heard + what had been said, “I will give you a thousand crowns for an example—yes, + by the Powers! I will shell out to the tune of a thousand crowns!” + </p> + <p> + “Shell out! What does that mean?” asked Beauvisage of Claude Vignon. + </p> + <p> + “Madame must do me the honor to sit for it then,” said Steinbock to + Crevel. “Ask her—” + </p> + <p> + At this moment Valerie herself brought Steinbock a cup of tea. This was + more than a compliment, it was a favor. There is a complete language in + the manner in which a woman does this little civility; but women are fully + aware of the fact, and it is a curious thing to study their movements, + their manner, their look, tone, and accent when they perform this + apparently simple act of politeness.—From the question, “Do you take + tea?”—“Will you have some tea?”—“A cup of tea?” coldly asked, + and followed by instructions to the nymph of the urn to bring it, to the + eloquent poem of the odalisque coming from the tea-table, cup in hand, + towards the pasha of her heart, presenting it submissively, offering it in + an insinuating voice, with a look full of intoxicating promises, a + physiologist could deduce the whole scale of feminine emotion, from + aversion or indifference to Phaedra’s declaration to Hippolytus. Women can + make it, at will, contemptuous to the verge of insult, or humble to the + expression of Oriental servility. + </p> + <p> + And Valerie was more than woman; she was the serpent made woman; she + crowned her diabolical work by going up to Steinbock, a cup of tea in her + hand. + </p> + <p> + “I will drink as many cups of tea as you will give me,” said the artist, + murmuring in her ear as he rose, and touching her fingers with his, “to + have them given to me thus!” + </p> + <p> + “What were you saying about sitting?” said she, without betraying that + this declaration, so frantically desired, had gone straight to her heart. + </p> + <p> + “Old Crevel promises me a thousand crowns for a copy of your group.” + </p> + <p> + “He! a thousand crowns for a bronze group?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes—if you will sit for Delilah,” said Steinbock. + </p> + <p> + “He will not be there to see, I hope!” replied she. “The group would be + worth more than all his fortune, for Delilah’s costume is rather + un-dressy.” + </p> + <p> + Just as Crevel loved to strike an attitude, every woman has a victorious + gesture, a studied movement, which she knows must win admiration. You may + see in a drawing-room how one spends all her time looking down at her + tucker or pulling up the shoulder-piece of her gown, how another makes + play with the brightness of her eyes by glancing up at the cornice. Madame + Marneffe’s triumph, however, was not face to face like that of other + women. She turned sharply round to return to Lisbeth at the tea-table. + This ballet-dancer’s pirouette, whisking her skirts, by which she had + overthrown Hulot, now fascinated Steinbock. + </p> + <p> + “Your vengeance is secure,” said Valerie to Lisbeth in a whisper. + “Hortense will cry out all her tears, and curse the day when she robbed + you of Wenceslas.” + </p> + <p> + “Till I am Madame la Marechale I shall not think myself successful,” + replied the cousin; “but they are all beginning to wish for it.—This + morning I went to Victorin’s—I forgot to tell you.—The young + Hulots have bought up their father’s notes of hand given to Vauvinet, and + to-morrow they will endorse a bill for seventy-two thousand francs at five + per cent, payable in three years, and secured by a mortgage on their + house. So the young people are in straits for three years; they can raise + no more money on that property. Victorin is dreadfully distressed; he + understands his father. And Crevel is capable of refusing to see them; he + will be so angry at this piece of self-sacrifice.” + </p> + <p> + “The Baron cannot have a sou now,” said Valerie, and she smiled at Hulot. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t see where he can get it. But he will draw his salary again in + September.” + </p> + <p> + “And he has his policy of insurance; he has renewed it. Come, it is high + time he should get Marneffe promoted. I will drive it home this evening.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear cousin,” said Lisbeth to Wenceslas, “go home, I beg. You are + quite ridiculous. Your eyes are fixed on Valerie in a way that is enough + to compromise her, and her husband is insanely jealous. Do not tread in + your father-in-law’s footsteps. Go home; I am sure Hortense is sitting up + for you.” + </p> + <p> + “Madame Marneffe told me to stay till the last to settle my little + business with you and her,” replied Wenceslas. + </p> + <p> + “No, no,” said Lisbeth; “I will bring you the ten thousand francs, for her + husband has his eye on you. It would be rash to remain. To-morrow at + eleven o’clock bring your note of hand; at that hour that mandarin + Marneffe is at his office, Valerie is free.—Have you really asked + her to sit for your group?—Come up to my rooms first.—Ah! I + was sure of it,” she added, as she caught the look which Steinbock flashed + at Valerie, “I knew you were a profligate in the bud! Well, Valerie is + lovely—but try not to bring trouble on Hortense.” + </p> + <p> + Nothing annoys a married man so much as finding his wife perpetually + interposing between himself and his wishes, however transient. + </p> + <p> + Wenceslas got home at about one in the morning; Hortense had expected him + ever since half-past nine. From half-past nine till ten she had listened + to the passing carriages, telling herself that never before had her + husband come in so late from dining with Florent and Chanor. She sat + sewing by the child’s cot, for she had begun to save a needlewoman’s pay + for the day by doing the mending herself.—From ten till half-past, a + suspicion crossed her mind; she sat wondering: + </p> + <p> + “Is he really gone to dinner, as he told me, with Chanor and Florent? He + put on his best cravat and his handsomest pin when he dressed. He took as + long over his toilet as a woman when she wants to make the best of + herself.—I am crazy! He loves me!—And here he is!” + </p> + <p> + But instead of stopping, the cab she heard went past. + </p> + <p> + From eleven till midnight Hortense was a victim to terrible alarms; the + quarter where they lived was now deserted. + </p> + <p> + “If he has set out on foot, some accident may have happened,” thought she. + “A man may be killed by tumbling over a curbstone or failing to see a gap. + Artists are so heedless! Or if he should have been stopped by robbers!—It + is the first time he has ever left me alone here for six hours and a half!—But + why should I worry myself? He cares for no one but me.” + </p> + <p> + Men ought to be faithful to the wives who love them, were it only on + account of the perpetual miracles wrought by true love in the sublime + regions of the spiritual world. The woman who loves is, in relation to the + man she loves, in the position of a somnambulist to whom the magnetizer + should give the painful power, when she ceases to be the mirror of the + world, of being conscious as a woman of what she has seen as a + somnambulist. Passion raises the nervous tension of a woman to the + ecstatic pitch at which presentiment is as acute as the insight of a + clairvoyant. A wife knows she is betrayed; she will not let herself say + so, she doubts still—she loves so much! She gives the lie to the + outcry of her own Pythian power. This paroxysm of love deserves a special + form of worship. + </p> + <p> + In noble souls, admiration of this divine phenomenon will always be a + safeguard to protect them from infidelity. How should a man not worship a + beautiful and intellectual creature whose soul can soar to such + manifestations? + </p> + <p> + By one in the morning Hortense was in a state of such intense anguish, + that she flew to the door as she recognized her husband’s ring at the + bell, and clasped him in her arms like a mother. + </p> + <p> + “At last—here you are!” cried she, finding her voice again. “My + dearest, henceforth where you go I go, for I cannot again endure the + torture of such waiting.—I pictured you stumbling over a curbstone, + with a fractured skull! Killed by thieves!—No, a second time I know + I should go mad.—Have you enjoyed yourself so much?—And + without me!—Bad boy!” + </p> + <p> + “What can I say, my darling? There was Bixiou, who drew fresh caricatures + for us; Leon de Lora, as witty as ever; Claude Vignon, to whom I owe the + only consolatory article that has come out about the Montcornet statue. + There were—” + </p> + <p> + “Were there no ladies?” Hortense eagerly inquired. + </p> + <p> + “Worthy Madame Florent—” + </p> + <p> + “You said the Rocher de Cancale.—Were you at the Florents’?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, at their house; I made a mistake.” + </p> + <p> + “You did not take a coach to come home?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “And you have walked from the Rue des Tournelles?” + </p> + <p> + “Stidmann and Bixiou came back with me along the boulevards as far as the + Madeleine, talking all the way.” + </p> + <p> + “It is dry then on the boulevards and the Place de la Concorde and the Rue + de Bourgogne? You are not muddy at all!” said Hortense, looking at her + husband’s patent leather boots. + </p> + <p> + It had been raining, but between the Rue Vanneau and the Rue + Saint-Dominique Wenceslas had not got his boots soiled. + </p> + <p> + “Here—here are five thousand francs Chanor has been so generous as + to lend me,” said Wenceslas, to cut short this lawyer-like examination. + </p> + <p> + He had made a division of the ten thousand-franc notes, half for Hortense + and half for himself, for he had five thousand francs’ worth of debts of + which Hortense knew nothing. He owed money to his foreman and his workmen. + </p> + <p> + “Now your anxieties are relieved,” said he, kissing his wife. “I am going + to work to-morrow morning. So I am going to bed this minute to get up + early, by your leave, my pet.” + </p> + <p> + The suspicion that had dawned in Hortense’s mind vanished; she was miles + away from the truth. Madame Marneffe! She had never thought of her. Her + fear for her Wenceslas was that he should fall in with street prostitutes. + The names of Bixiou and Leon de Lora, two artists noted for their wild + dissipations, had alarmed her. + </p> + <p> + Next morning she saw Wenceslas go out at nine o’clock, and was quite + reassured. + </p> + <p> + “Now he is at work again,” said she to herself, as she proceeded to dress + her boy. “I see he is quite in the vein! Well, well, if we cannot have the + glory of Michael Angelo, we may have that of Benvenuto Cellini!” + </p> + <p> + Lulled by her own hopes, Hortense believed in a happy future; and she was + chattering to her son of twenty months in the language of onomatopoeia + that amuses babes when, at about eleven o’clock, the cook, who had not + seen Wenceslas go out, showed in Stidmann. + </p> + <p> + “I beg pardon, madame,” said he. “Is Wenceslas gone out already?” + </p> + <p> + “He is at the studio.” + </p> + <p> + “I came to talk over the work with him.” + </p> + <p> + “I will send for him,” said Hortense, offering Stidmann a chair. + </p> + <p> + Thanking Heaven for this piece of luck, Hortense was glad to detain + Stidmann to ask some questions about the evening before. Stidmann bowed in + acknowledgment of her kindness. The Countess Steinbock rang; the cook + appeared, and was desired to go at once and fetch her master from the + studio. + </p> + <p> + “You had an amusing dinner last night?” said Hortense. “Wenceslas did not + come in till past one in the morning.” + </p> + <p> + “Amusing? not exactly,” replied the artist, who had intended to fascinate + Madame Marneffe. “Society is not very amusing unless one is interested in + it. That little Madame Marneffe is clever, but a great flirt.” + </p> + <p> + “And what did Wenceslas think of her?” asked poor Hortense, trying to keep + calm. “He said nothing about her to me.” + </p> + <p> + “I will only say one thing,” said Stidmann, “and that is, that I think her + a very dangerous woman.” + </p> + <p> + Hortense turned as pale as a woman after childbirth. + </p> + <p> + “So—it was at—at Madame Marneffe’s that you dined—and + not—not with Chanor?” said she, “yesterday—and Wenceslas—and + he——” + </p> + <p> + Stidmann, without knowing what mischief he had done, saw that he had + blundered. + </p> + <p> + The Countess did not finish her sentence; she simply fainted away. The + artist rang, and the maid came in. When Louise tried to get her mistress + into her bedroom, a serious nervous attack came on, with violent + hysterics. Stidmann, like any man who by an involuntary indiscretion has + overthrown the structure built on a husband’s lie to his wife, could not + conceive that his words should produce such an effect; he supposed that + the Countess was in such delicate health that the slightest contradiction + was mischievous. + </p> + <p> + The cook presently returned to say, unfortunately in loud tones, that her + master was not in the studio. In the midst of her anguish, Hortense heard, + and the hysterical fit came on again. + </p> + <p> + “Go and fetch madame’s mother,” said Louise to the cook. “Quick—run!” + </p> + <p> + “If I knew where to find Steinbock, I would go and fetch him!” exclaimed + Stidmann in despair. + </p> + <p> + “He is with that woman!” cried the unhappy wife. “He was not dressed to go + to his work!” + </p> + <p> + Stidmann hurried off to Madame Marneffe’s, struck by the truth of this + conclusion, due to the second-sight of passion. + </p> + <p> + At that moment Valerie was posed as Delilah. Stidmann, too sharp to ask + for Madame Marneffe, walked straight in past the lodge, and ran quickly up + to the second floor, arguing thus: “If I ask for Madame Marneffe, she will + be out. If I inquire point-blank for Steinbock, I shall be laughed at to + my face.—Take the bull by the horns!” + </p> + <p> + Reine appeared in answer to his ring. + </p> + <p> + “Tell Monsieur le Comte Steinbock to come at once, his wife is dying—” + </p> + <p> + Reine, quite a match for Stidmann, looked at him with blank surprise. + </p> + <p> + “But, sir—I don’t know—did you suppose——” + </p> + <p> + “I tell you that my friend Monsieur Steinbock is here; his wife is very + ill. It is quite serious enough for you to disturb your mistress.” And + Stidmann turned on his heel. + </p> + <p> + “He is there, sure enough!” said he to himself. + </p> + <p> + And in point of fact, after waiting a few minutes in the Rue Vanneau, he + saw Wenceslas come out, and beckoned to him to come quickly. After telling + him of the tragedy enacted in the Rue Saint-Dominique, Stidmann scolded + Steinbock for not having warned him to keep the secret of yesterday’s + dinner. + </p> + <p> + “I am done for,” said Wenceslas, “but you are forgiven. I had totally + forgotten that you were to call this morning, and I blundered in not + telling you that we were to have dined with Florent.—What can I say? + That Valerie has turned my head; but, my dear fellow, for her glory is + well lost, misfortune well won! She really is!—Good Heavens!—But + I am in a dreadful fix. Advise me. What can I say? How can I excuse + myself?” + </p> + <p> + “I! advise you! I don’t know,” replied Stidmann. “But your wife loves you, + I imagine? Well, then, she will believe anything. Tell her that you were + on your way to me when I was on my way to you; that, at any rate, will set + this morning’s business right. Good-bye.” + </p> + <p> + Lisbeth, called down by Reine, ran after Wenceslas and caught him up at + the corner of the Rue Hillerin-Bertin; she was afraid of his Polish + artlessness. Not wishing to be involved in the matter, she said a few + words to Wenceslas, who in his joy hugged her then and there. She had no + doubt pushed out a plank to enable the artist to cross this awkward place + in his conjugal affairs. + </p> + <p> + At the sight of her mother, who had flown to her aid, Hortense burst into + floods of tears. This happily changed the character of the hysterical + attack. + </p> + <p> + “Treachery, dear mamma!” cried she. “Wenceslas, after giving me his word + of honor that he would not go near Madame Marneffe, dined with her last + night, and did not come in till a quarter-past one in the morning.—If + you only knew! The day before we had had a discussion, not a quarrel, and + I had appealed to him so touchingly. I told him I was jealous, that I + should die if he were unfaithful; that I was easily suspicious, but that + he ought to have some consideration for my weaknesses, as they came of my + love for him; that I had my father’s blood in my veins as well as yours; + that at the first moment of such discovery I should be mad, and capable of + mad deeds—of avenging myself—of dishonoring us all, him, his + child, and myself; that I might even kill him first and myself after—and + so on. + </p> + <p> + “And yet he went there; he is there!—That woman is bent on breaking + all our hearts! Only yesterday my brother and Celestine pledged their all + to pay off seventy thousand francs on notes of hand signed for that + good-for-nothing creature.—Yes, mamma, my father would have been + arrested and put into prison. Cannot that dreadful woman be content with + having my father, and with all your tears? Why take my Wenceslas?—I + will go to see her and stab her!” + </p> + <p> + Madame Hulot, struck to the heart by the dreadful secrets Hortense was + unwittingly letting out, controlled her grief by one of the heroic efforts + which a magnanimous mother can make, and drew her daughter’s head on to + her bosom to cover it with kisses. + </p> + <p> + “Wait for Wenceslas, my child; all will be explained. The evil cannot be + so great as you picture it!—I, too, have been deceived, my dear + Hortense; you think me handsome, I have lived blameless; and yet I have + been utterly forsaken for three-and-twenty years—for a Jenny Cadine, + a Josepha, a Madame Marneffe!—Did you know that?” + </p> + <p> + “You, mamma, you! You have endured this for twenty——” + </p> + <p> + She broke off, staggered by her own thoughts. + </p> + <p> + “Do as I have done, my child,” said her mother. “Be gentle and kind, and + your conscience will be at peace. On his death-bed a man may say, ‘My wife + has never cost me a pang!’ And God, who hears that dying breath, credits + it to us. If I had abandoned myself to fury like you, what would have + happened? Your father would have been embittered, perhaps he would have + left me altogether, and he would not have been withheld by any fear of + paining me. Our ruin, utter as it now is, would have been complete ten + years sooner, and we should have shown the world the spectacle of a + husband and wife living quite apart—a scandal of the most horrible, + heart-breaking kind, for it is the destruction of the family. Neither your + brother nor you could have married. + </p> + <p> + “I sacrificed myself, and that so bravely, that, till this last connection + of your father’s, the world has believed me happy. My serviceable and + indeed courageous falsehood has, till now, screened Hector; he is still + respected; but this old man’s passion is taking him too far, that I see. + His own folly, I fear, will break through the veil I have kept between the + world and our home. However, I have held that curtain steady for + twenty-three years, and have wept behind it—motherless, I, without a + friend to trust, with no help but in religion—I have for + twenty-three years secured the family honor——” + </p> + <p> + Hortense listened with a fixed gaze. The calm tone of resignation and of + such crowning sorrow soothed the smart of her first wound; the tears rose + again and flowed in torrents. In a frenzy of filial affection, overcome by + her mother’s noble heroism, she fell on her knees before Adeline, took up + the hem of her dress and kissed it, as pious Catholics kiss the holy + relics of a martyr. + </p> + <p> + “Nay, get up, Hortense,” said the Baroness. “Such homage from my daughter + wipes out many sad memories. Come to my heart, and weep for no sorrows but + your own. It is the despair of my dear little girl, whose joy was my only + joy, that broke the solemn seal which nothing ought to have removed from + my lips. Indeed, I meant to have taken my woes to the tomb, as a shroud + the more. It was to soothe your anguish that I spoke.—God will + forgive me! + </p> + <p> + “Oh! if my life were to be your life, what would I not do? Men, the world, + Fate, Nature, God Himself, I believe, make us pay for love with the most + cruel grief. I must pay for ten years of happiness and twenty-four years + of despair, of ceaseless sorrow, of bitterness—” + </p> + <p> + “But you had ten years, dear mamma, and I have had but three!” said the + self-absorbed girl. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing is lost yet,” said Adeline. “Only wait till Wenceslas comes.” + </p> + <p> + “Mother,” said she, “he lied, he deceived me. He said, ‘I will not go,’ + and he went. And that over his child’s cradle.” + </p> + <p> + “For pleasure, my child, men will commit the most cowardly, the most + infamous actions—even crimes; it lies in their nature, it would + seem. We wives are set apart for sacrifice. I believed my troubles were + ended, and they are beginning again, for I never thought to suffer doubly + by suffering with my child. Courage—and silence!—My Hortense, + swear that you will never discuss your griefs with anybody but me, never + let them be suspected by any third person. Oh! be as proud as your mother + has been.” + </p> + <p> + Hortense started; she had heard her husband’s step. + </p> + <p> + “So it would seem,” said Wenceslas, as he came in, “that Stidmann has been + here while I went to see him.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed!” said Hortense, with the angry irony of an offended woman who + uses words to stab. + </p> + <p> + “Certainly,” said Wenceslas, affecting surprise. “We have just met.” + </p> + <p> + “And yesterday?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, yesterday I deceived you, my darling love; and your mother shall + judge between us.” + </p> + <p> + This candor unlocked his wife’s heart. All really lofty women like the + truth better than lies. They cannot bear to see their idol smirched; they + want to be proud of the despotism they bow to. + </p> + <p> + There is a strain of this feeling in the devotion of the Russians to their + Czar. + </p> + <p> + “Now, listen, dear mother,” Wenceslas went on. “I so truly love my sweet + and kind Hortense, that I concealed from her the extent of our poverty. + What could I do? She was still nursing the boy, and such troubles would + have done her harm; you know what the risk is for a woman. Her beauty, + youth, and health are imperiled. Did I do wrong?—She believes that + we owe five thousand francs; but I owe five thousand more. The day before + yesterday we were in the depths! No one on earth will lend to us artists. + Our talents are not less untrustworthy than our whims. I knocked in vain + at every door. Lisbeth, indeed, offered us her savings.” + </p> + <p> + “Poor soul!” said Hortense. + </p> + <p> + “Poor soul!” said the Baroness. + </p> + <p> + “But what are Lisbeth’s two thousand francs? Everything to her, nothing to + us.—Then, as you know, Hortense, she spoke to us of Madame Marneffe, + who, as she owes so much to the Baron, out of a sense of honor, will take + no interest. Hortense wanted to send her diamonds to the Mont-de-Piete; + they would have brought in a few thousand francs, but we needed ten + thousand. Those ten thousand francs were to be had free of interest for a + year!—I said to myself, ‘Hortense will be none the wiser; I will go + and get them.’ + </p> + <p> + “Then the woman asked me to dinner through my father-in-law, giving me to + understand that Lisbeth had spoken of the matter, and I should have the + money. Between Hortense’s despair on one hand, and the dinner on the + other, I could not hesitate.—That is all. + </p> + <p> + “What! could Hortense, at four-and-twenty, lovely, pure, and virtuous, and + all my pride and glory, imagine that, when I have never left her since we + married, I could now prefer—what?—a tawny, painted, ruddled + creature?” said he, using the vulgar exaggeration of the studio to + convince his wife by the vehemence that women like. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! if only your father had ever spoken so——!” cried the + Baroness. + </p> + <p> + Hortense threw her arms round her husband’s neck. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, that is what I should have done,” said her mother. “Wenceslas, my + dear fellow, your wife was near dying of it,” she went on very seriously. + “You see how well she loves you. And, alas—she is yours!” + </p> + <p> + She sighed deeply. + </p> + <p> + “He may make a martyr of her, or a happy woman,” thought she to herself, + as every mother thinks when she sees her daughter married.—“It seems + to me,” she said aloud, “that I am miserable enough to hope to see my + children happy.” + </p> + <p> + “Be quite easy, dear mamma,” said Wenceslas, only too glad to see this + critical moment end happily. “In two months I shall have repaid that + dreadful woman. How could I help it,” he went on, repeating this + essentially Polish excuse with a Pole’s grace; “there are times when a man + would borrow of the Devil.—And, after all, the money belongs to the + family. When once she had invited me, should I have got the money at all + if I had responded to her civility with a rude refusal?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, mamma, what mischief papa is bringing on us!” cried Hortense. + </p> + <p> + The Baroness laid her finger on her daughter’s lips, aggrieved by this + complaint, the first blame she had ever uttered of a father so heroically + screened by her mother’s magnanimous silence. + </p> + <p> + “Now, good-bye, my children,” said Madame Hulot. “The storm is over. But + do not quarrel any more.” + </p> + <p> + When Wenceslas and his wife returned to their room after letting out the + Baroness, Hortense said to her husband: + </p> + <p> + “Tell me all about last evening.” + </p> + <p> + And she watched his face all through the narrative, interrupting him by + the questions that crowd on a wife’s mind in such circumstances. The story + made Hortense reflect; she had a glimpse of the infernal dissipation which + an artist must find in such vicious company. + </p> + <p> + “Be honest, my Wenceslas; Stidmann was there, Claude Vignon, Vernisset.—Who + else? In short, it was good fun?” + </p> + <p> + “I, I was thinking of nothing but our ten thousand francs, and I was + saying to myself, ‘My Hortense will be freed from anxiety.’” + </p> + <p> + This catechism bored the Livonian excessively; he seized a gayer moment to + say: + </p> + <p> + “And you, my dearest, what would you have done if your artist had proved + guilty?” + </p> + <p> + “I,” said she, with an air of prompt decision, “I should have taken up + Stidmann—not that I love him, of course!” + </p> + <p> + “Hortense!” cried Steinbock, starting to his feet with a sudden and + theatrical emphasis. “You would not have had the chance—I would have + killed you!” + </p> + <p> + Hortense threw herself into his arms, clasping him closely enough to + stifle him, and covered him with kisses, saying: + </p> + <p> + “Ah, you do love me! I fear nothing!—But no more Marneffe. Never go + plunging into such horrible bogs.” + </p> + <p> + “I swear to you, my dear Hortense, that I will go there no more, excepting + to redeem my note of hand.” + </p> + <p> + She pouted at this, but only as a loving woman sulks to get something for + it. Wenceslas, tired out with such a morning’s work, went off to his + studio to make a clay sketch of the <i>Samson and Delilah</i>, for which + he had the drawings in his pocket. + </p> + <p> + Hortense, penitent for her little temper, and fancying that her husband + was annoyed with her, went to the studio just as the sculptor had finished + handling the clay with the impetuosity that spurs an artist when the mood + is on him. On seeing his wife, Wenceslas hastily threw the wet wrapper + over the group, and putting both arms round her, he said: + </p> + <p> + “We were not really angry, were we, my pretty puss?” + </p> + <p> + Hortense had caught sight of the group, had seen the linen thrown over it, + and had said nothing; but as she was leaving, she took off the rag, looked + at the model, and asked: + </p> + <p> + “What is that?” + </p> + <p> + “A group for which I had just had an idea.” + </p> + <p> + “And why did you hide it?” + </p> + <p> + “I did not mean you to see it till it was finished.” + </p> + <p> + “The woman is very pretty,” said Hortense. + </p> + <p> + And a thousand suspicions cropped up in her mind, as, in India, tall, rank + plants spring up in a night-time. + </p> + <p> + By the end of three weeks, Madame Marneffe was intensely irritated by + Hortense. Women of that stamp have a pride of their own; they insist that + men shall kiss the devil’s hoof; they have no forgiveness for the virtue + that does not quail before their dominion, or that even holds its own + against them. Now, in all that time Wenceslas had not paid one visit in + the Rue Vanneau, not even that which politeness required to a woman who + had sat for Delilah. + </p> + <p> + Whenever Lisbeth called on the Steinbocks, there had been nobody at home. + Monsieur and madame lived in the studio. Lisbeth, following the turtle + doves to their nest at le Gros-Caillou, found Wenceslas hard at work, and + was informed by the cook that madame never left monsieur’s side. Wenceslas + was a slave to the autocracy of love. So now Valerie, on her own account, + took part with Lisbeth in her hatred of Hortense. + </p> + <p> + Women cling to a lover that another woman is fighting for, just as much as + men do to women round whom many coxcombs are buzzing. Thus any reflections + <i>a propos</i> to Madame Marneffe are equally applicable to any + lady-killing rake; he is, in fact, a sort of male courtesan. Valerie’s + last fancy was a madness; above all, she was bent on getting her group; + she was even thinking of going one morning to the studio to see Wenceslas, + when a serious incident arose of the kind which, to a woman of that class, + may be called the spoil of war. + </p> + <p> + This is how Valerie announced this wholly personal event. + </p> + <p> + She was breakfasting with Lisbeth and her husband. + </p> + <p> + “I say, Marneffe, what would you say to being a second time a father?” + </p> + <p> + “You don’t mean it—a baby?—Oh, let me kiss you!” + </p> + <p> + He rose and went round the table; his wife held up her head so that he + could just kiss her hair. + </p> + <p> + “If that is so,” he went on, “I am head-clerk and officer of the Legion of + Honor at once. But you must understand, my dear, Stanislas is not to be + the sufferer, poor little man.” + </p> + <p> + “Poor little man?” Lisbeth put in. “You have not set your eyes on him + these seven months. I am supposed to be his mother at the school; I am the + only person in the house who takes any trouble about him.” + </p> + <p> + “A brat that costs us a hundred crowns a quarter!” said Valerie. “And he, + at any rate, is your own child, Marneffe. You ought to pay for his + schooling out of your salary.—The newcomer, far from reminding us of + butcher’s bills, will rescue us from want.” + </p> + <p> + “Valerie,” replied Marneffe, assuming an attitude like Crevel, “I hope + that Monsieur le Baron Hulot will take proper charge of his son, and not + lay the burden on a poor clerk. I intend to keep him well up to the mark. + So take the necessary steps, madame! Get him to write you letters in which + he alludes to his satisfaction, for he is rather backward in coming + forward in regard to my appointment.” + </p> + <p> + And Marneffe went away to the office, where his chief’s precious leniency + allowed him to come in at about eleven o’clock. And, indeed, he did little + enough, for his incapacity was notorious, and he detested work. + </p> + <p> + No sooner were they alone than Lisbeth and Valerie looked at each other + for a moment like Augurs, and both together burst into a loud fit of + laughter. + </p> + <p> + “I say, Valerie—is it the fact?” said Lisbeth, “or merely a farce?” + </p> + <p> + “It is a physical fact!” replied Valerie. “Now, I am sick and tired of + Hortense; and it occurred to me in the night that I might fire this + infant, like a bomb, into the Steinbock household.” + </p> + <p> + Valerie went back to her room, followed by Lisbeth, to whom she showed the + following letter:— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “WENCESLAS MY DEAR,—I still believe in your love, though it is + nearly three weeks since I saw you. Is this scorn? Delilah can + scarcely believe that. Does it not rather result from the tyranny + of a woman whom, as you told me, you can no longer love? + Wenceslas, you are too great an artist to submit to such dominion. + Home is the grave of glory.—Consider now, are you the Wenceslas + of the Rue du Doyenne? You missed fire with my father’s statue; + but in you the lover is greater than the artist, and you have had + better luck with his daughter. You are a father, my beloved + Wenceslas. + + “If you do not come to me in the state I am in, your friends would + think very badly of you. But I love you so madly, that I feel I + should never have the strength to curse you. May I sign myself as + ever, + + “YOUR VALERIE.” + </pre> + <p> + “What do you say to my scheme for sending this note to the studio at a + time when our dear Hortense is there by herself?” asked Valerie. “Last + evening I heard from Stidmann that Wenceslas is to pick him up at eleven + this morning to go on business to Chanor’s; so that gawk Hortense will be + there alone.” + </p> + <p> + “But after such a trick as that,” replied Lisbeth, “I cannot continue to + be your friend in the eyes of the world; I shall have to break with you, + to be supposed never to visit you, or even to speak to you.” + </p> + <p> + “Evidently,” said Valerie; “but—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! be quite easy,” interrupted Lisbeth; “we shall often meet when I am + Madame la Marechale. They are all set upon it now. Only the Baron is in + ignorance of the plan, but you can talk him over.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Valerie, “but it is quite likely that the Baron and I may be + on distant terms before long.” + </p> + <p> + “Madame Olivier is the only person who can make Hortense demand to see the + letter,” said Lisbeth. “And you must send her to the Rue Saint-Dominique + before she goes on to the studio.” + </p> + <p> + “Our beauty will be at home, no doubt,” said Valerie, ringing for Reine to + call up Madame Olivier. + </p> + <p> + Ten minutes after the despatch of this fateful letter, Baron Hulot + arrived. Madame Marneffe threw her arms round the old man’s neck with + kittenish impetuosity. + </p> + <p> + “Hector, you are a father!” she said in his ear. “That is what comes of + quarreling and making friends again——” + </p> + <p> + Perceiving a look of surprise, which the Baron did not at once conceal, + Valerie assumed a reserve which brought the old man to despair. She made + him wring the proofs from her one by one. When conviction, led on by + vanity, had at last entered his mind, she enlarged on Monsieur Marneffe’s + wrath. + </p> + <p> + “My dear old veteran,” said she, “you can hardly avoid getting your + responsible editor, our representative partner if you like, appointed + head-clerk and officer of the Legion of Honor, for you really have done + for the poor man, he adores his Stanislas, the little monstrosity who is + so like him, that to me he is insufferable. Unless you prefer to settle + twelve hundred francs a year on Stanislas—the capital to be his, and + the life-interest payable to me, of course—” + </p> + <p> + “But if I am to settle securities, I would rather it should be on my own + son, and not on the monstrosity,” said the Baron. + </p> + <p> + This rash speech, in which the words “my own son” came out as full as a + river in flood, was, by the end of the hour, ratified as a formal promise + to settle twelve hundred francs a year on the future boy. And this promise + became, on Valerie’s tongue and in her countenance, what a drum is in the + hands of a child; for three weeks she played on it incessantly. + </p> + <p> + At the moment when Baron Hulot was leaving the Rue Vanneau, as happy as a + man who after a year of married life still desires an heir, Madame Olivier + had yielded to Hortense, and given up the note she was instructed to give + only into the Count’s own hands. The young wife paid twenty francs for + that letter. The wretch who commits suicide must pay for the opium, the + pistol, the charcoal. + </p> + <p> + Hortense read and re-read the note; she saw nothing but this sheet of + white paper streaked with black lines; the universe held for her nothing + but that paper; everything was dark around her. The glare of the + conflagration that was consuming the edifice of her happiness lighted up + the page, for blackest night enfolded her. The shouts of her little + Wenceslas at play fell on her ear, as if he had been in the depths of a + valley and she on a high mountain. Thus insulted at four-and-twenty, in + all the splendor of her beauty, enhanced by pure and devoted love—it + was not a stab, it was death. The first shock had been merely on the + nerves, the physical frame had struggled in the grip of jealousy; but now + certainty had seized her soul, her body was unconscious. + </p> + <p> + For about ten minutes Hortense sat under the incubus of this oppression. + Then a vision of her mother appeared before her, and revulsion ensued; she + was calm and cool, and mistress of her reason. + </p> + <p> + She rang. + </p> + <p> + “Get Louise to help you, child,” said she to the cook. “As quickly as you + can, pack up everything that belongs to me and everything wanted for the + little boy. I give you an hour. When all is ready, fetch a hackney coach + from the stand, and call me. + </p> + <p> + “Make no remarks! I am leaving the house, and shall take Louise with me. + You must stay here with monsieur; take good care of him——” + </p> + <p> + She went into her room, and wrote the following letter:— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “MONSIEUR LE COMTE,— + + “The letter I enclose will sufficiently account for the + determination I have come to. + + “When you read this, I shall have left your house and have found + refuge with my mother, taking our child with me. + + “Do not imagine that I shall retrace my steps. Do not imagine that + I am acting with the rash haste of youth, without reflection, with + the anger of offended affection; you will be greatly mistaken. + + “I have been thinking very deeply during the last fortnight of + life, of love, of our marriage, of our duties to each other. I + have known the perfect devotion of my mother; she has told me all + her sorrows! She has been heroical—every day for twenty-three + years. But I have not the strength to imitate her, not because I + love you less than she loves my father, but for reasons of spirit + and nature. Our home would be a hell; I might lose my head so far + as to disgrace you—disgrace myself and our child. + + “I refuse to be a Madame Marneffe; once launched on such a course, + a woman of my temper might not, perhaps, be able to stop. I am, + unfortunately for myself, a Hulot, not a Fischer. + + “Alone, and absent from the scene of your dissipations, I am sure + of myself, especially with my child to occupy me, and by the side + of a strong and noble mother, whose life cannot fail to influence + the vehement impetuousness of my feelings. There, I can be a good + mother, bring our boy up well, and live. Under your roof the wife + would oust the mother; and constant contention would sour my + temper. + + “I can accept a death-blow, but I will not endure for + twenty-five years, like my mother. If, at the end of three years of + perfect, unwavering love, you can be unfaithful to me with your + father-in-law’s mistress, what rivals may I expect to have in later + years? Indeed, monsieur, you have begun your career of profligacy + much earlier than my father did, the life of dissipation, which is + a disgrace to the father of a family, which undermines the respect + of his children, and which ends in shame and despair. + + “I am not unforgiving. Unrelenting feelings do not beseem erring + creatures living under the eye of God. If you win fame and fortune + by sustained work, if you have nothing to do with courtesans and + ignoble, defiling ways, you will find me still a wife worthy of + you. + + “I believe you to be too much a gentleman, Monsieur le Comte, to + have recourse to the law. You will respect my wishes, and leave me + under my mother’s roof. Above all, never let me see you there. I + have left all the money lent to you by that odious woman.— + Farewell. + + “HORTENSE HULOT.” + </pre> + <p> + This letter was written in anguish. Hortense abandoned herself to the + tears, the outcries of murdered love. She laid down her pen and took it up + again, to express as simply as possible all that passion commonly + proclaims in this sort of testamentary letter. Her heart went forth in + exclamations, wailing and weeping; but reason dictated the words. + </p> + <p> + Informed by Louise that all was ready, the young wife slowly went round + the little garden, through the bedroom and drawing-room, looking at + everything for the last time. Then she earnestly enjoined the cook to take + the greatest care for her master’s comfort, promising to reward her + handsomely if she would be honest. At last she got into the hackney coach + to drive to her mother’s house, her heart quite broken, crying so much as + to distress the maid, and covering little Wenceslas with kisses, which + betrayed her still unfailing love for his father. + </p> + <p> + The Baroness knew already from Lisbeth that the father-in-law was largely + to blame for the son-in-law’s fault; nor was she surprised to see her + daughter, whose conduct she approved, and she consented to give her + shelter. Adeline, perceiving that her own gentleness and patience had + never checked Hector, for whom her respect was indeed fast diminishing, + thought her daughter very right to adopt another course. + </p> + <p> + In three weeks the poor mother had suffered two wounds of which the pain + was greater than any ill-fortune she had hitherto endured. The Baron had + placed Victorin and his wife in great difficulties; and then, by Lisbeth’s + account, he was the cause of his son-in-law’s misconduct, and had + corrupted Wenceslas. The dignity of the father of the family, so long + upheld by her really foolish self-sacrifice, was now overthrown. Though + they did not regret the money the young Hulots were full alike of doubts + and uneasiness as regarded the Baron. This sentiment, which was evidence + enough, distressed the Baroness; she foresaw a break-up of the family tie. + </p> + <p> + Hortense was accommodated in the dining-room, arranged as a bedroom with + the help of the Marshal’s money, and the anteroom became the dining-room, + as it is in many apartments. + </p> + <p> + When Wenceslas returned home and had read the two letters, he felt a kind + of gladness mingled with regret. Kept so constantly under his wife’s eye, + so to speak, he had inwardly rebelled against this fresh thraldom, <i>a la</i> + Lisbeth. Full fed with love for three years past, he too had been + reflecting during the last fortnight; and he found a family heavy on his + hands. He had just been congratulated by Stidmann on the passion he had + inspired in Valerie; for Stidmann, with an under-thought that was not + unnatural, saw that he might flatter the husband’s vanity in the hope of + consoling the victim. And Wenceslas was glad to be able to return to + Madame Marneffe. + </p> + <p> + Still, he remembered the pure and unsullied happiness he had known, the + perfections of his wife, her judgment, her innocent and guileless + affection,—and he regretted her acutely. He thought of going at once + to his mother-in-law’s to crave forgiveness; but, in fact, like Hulot and + Crevel, he went to Madame Marneffe, to whom he carried his wife’s letter + to show her what a disaster she had caused, and to discount his + misfortune, so to speak, by claiming in return the pleasures his mistress + could give him. + </p> + <p> + He found Crevel with Valerie. The mayor, puffed up with pride, marched up + and down the room, agitated by a storm of feelings. He put himself into + position as if he were about to speak, but he dared not. His countenance + was beaming, and he went now and again to the window, where he drummed on + the pane with his fingers. He kept looking at Valerie with a glance of + tender pathos. Happily for him, Lisbeth presently came in. + </p> + <p> + “Cousin Betty,” he said in her ear, “have you heard the news? I am a + father! It seems to me I love my poor Celestine the less.—Oh! what a + thing it is to have a child by the woman one idolizes! It is the + fatherhood of the heart added to that of the flesh! I say—tell + Valerie that I will work for that child—it shall be rich. She tells + me she has some reason for believing that it will be a boy! If it is a + boy, I shall insist on his being called Crevel. I will consult my notary + about it.” + </p> + <p> + “I know how much she loves you,” said Lisbeth. “But for her sake in the + future, and for your own, control yourself. Do not rub your hands every + five minutes.” + </p> + <p> + While Lisbeth was speaking aside on this wise to Crevel, Valerie had asked + Wenceslas to give her back her letter, and she was saying things that + dispelled all his griefs. + </p> + <p> + “So now you are free, my dear,” said she. “Ought any great artist to + marry? You live only by fancy and freedom! There, I shall love you so + much, beloved poet, that you shall never regret your wife. At the same + time, if, like so many people, you want to keep up appearances, I + undertake to bring Hortense back to you in a very short time.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, if only that were possible!” + </p> + <p> + “I am certain of it,” said Valerie, nettled. “Your poor father-in-law is a + man who is in every way utterly done for; who wants to appear as though he + could be loved, out of conceit, and to make the world believe that he has + a mistress; and he is so excessively vain on this point, that I can do + what I please with him. The Baroness is still so devoted to her old Hector—I + always feel as if I were talking of the <i>Iliad</i>—that these two + old folks will contrive to patch up matters between you and Hortense. + Only, if you want to avoid storms at home for the future, do not leave me + for three weeks without coming to see your mistress—I was dying of + it. My dear boy, some consideration is due from a gentleman to a woman he + has so deeply compromised, especially when, as in my case, she has to be + very careful of her reputation. + </p> + <p> + “Stay to dinner, my darling—and remember that I must treat you with + all the more apparent coldness because you are guilty of this too obvious + mishap.” + </p> + <p> + Baron Montes was presently announced; Valerie rose and hurried forward to + meet him; she spoke a few sentences in his ear, enjoining on him the same + reserve as she had impressed on Wenceslas; the Brazilian assumed a + diplomatic reticence suitable to the great news which filled him with + delight, for he, at any rate was sure of his paternity. + </p> + <p> + Thanks to these tactics, based on the vanity of the man in the lover stage + of his existence, Valerie sat down to table with four men, all pleased and + eager to please, all charmed, and each believing himself adored; called by + Marneffe, who included himself, in speaking to Lisbeth, the five Fathers + of the Church. + </p> + <p> + Baron Hulot alone at first showed an anxious countenance, and this was + why. Just as he was leaving the office, the head of the staff of clerks + had come to his private room—a General with whom he had served for + thirty years—and Hulot had spoken to him as to appointing Marneffe + to Coquet’s place, Coquet having consented to retire. + </p> + <p> + “My dear fellow,” said he, “I would not ask this favor of the Prince + without our having agreed on the matter, and knowing that you approved.” + </p> + <p> + “My good friend,” replied the other, “you must allow me to observe that, + for your own sake, you should not insist on this nomination. I have + already told you my opinion. There would be a scandal in the office, where + there is a great deal too much talk already about you and Madame Marneffe. + This, of course, is between ourselves. I have no wish to touch you on a + sensitive spot, or disoblige you in any way, and I will prove it. If you + are determined to get Monsieur Coquet’s place, and he will really be a + loss in the War Office, for he has been here since 1809, I will go into + the country for a fortnight, so as to leave the field open between you and + the Marshal, who loves you as a son. Then I shall take neither part, and + shall have nothing on my conscience as an administrator.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you very much,” said Hulot. “I will reflect on what you have said.” + </p> + <p> + “In allowing myself to say so much, my dear friend, it is because your + personal interest is far more deeply implicated than any concern or vanity + of mine. In the first place, the matter lies entirely with the Marshal. + And then, my good fellow, we are blamed for so many things, that one more + or less! We are not at the maiden stage in our experience of + fault-finding. Under the Restoration, men were put in simply to give them + places, without any regard for the office.—We are old friends——” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” the Baron put in; “and it is in order not to impair our old and + valued friendship that I—” + </p> + <p> + “Well, well,” said the departmental manager, seeing Hulot’s face clouded + with embarrassment, “I will take myself off, old fellow.—But I warn + you! you have enemies—that is to say, men who covet your splendid + appointment, and you have but one anchor out. Now if, like me, you were a + Deputy, you would have nothing to fear; so mind what you are about.” + </p> + <p> + This speech, in the most friendly spirit, made a deep impression on the + Councillor of State. + </p> + <p> + “But, after all, Roger, what is it that is wrong? Do not make any + mysteries with me.” + </p> + <p> + The individual addressed as Roger looked at Hulot, took his hand, and + pressed it. + </p> + <p> + “We are such old friends, that I am bound to give you warning. If you want + to keep your place, you must make a bed for yourself, and instead of + asking the Marshal to give Coquet’s place to Marneffe, in your place I + would beg him to use his influence to reserve a seat for me on the General + Council of State; there you may die in peace, and, like the beaver, + abandon all else to the pursuers.” + </p> + <p> + “What, do you think the Marshal would forget—” + </p> + <p> + “The Marshal has already taken your part so warmly at a General Meeting of + the Ministers, that you will not now be turned out; but it was seriously + discussed! So give them no excuse. I can say no more. At this moment you + may make your own terms; you may sit on the Council of State and be made a + Peer of the Chamber. If you delay too long, if you give any one a hold + against you, I can answer for nothing.—Now, am I to go?” + </p> + <p> + “Wait a little. I will see the Marshal,” replied Hulot, “and I will send + my brother to see which way the wind blows at headquarters.” + </p> + <p> + The humor in which the Baron came back to Madame Marneffe’s may be + imagined; he had almost forgotten his fatherhood, for Roger had taken the + part of a true and kind friend in explaining the position. At the same + time Valerie’s influence was so great that, by the middle of dinner, the + Baron was tuned up to the pitch, and was all the more cheerful for having + unwonted anxieties to conceal; but the hapless man was not yet aware that + in the course of that evening he would find himself in a cleft stick, + between his happiness and the danger pointed out by his friend—compelled, + in short, to choose between Madame Marneffe and his official position. + </p> + <p> + At eleven o’clock, when the evening was at its gayest, for the room was + full of company, Valerie drew Hector into a corner of her sofa. + </p> + <p> + “My dear old boy,” said she, “your daughter is so annoyed at knowing that + Wenceslas comes here, that she has left him ‘planted.’ Hortense is + wrong-headed. Ask Wenceslas to show you the letter the little fool has + written to him. + </p> + <p> + “This division of two lovers, of which I am reputed to be the cause, may + do me the greatest harm, for this is how virtuous women undermine each + other. It is disgraceful to pose as a victim in order to cast the blame on + a woman whose only crime is that she keeps a pleasant house. If you love + me, you will clear my character by reconciling the sweet turtle-doves. + </p> + <p> + “I do not in the least care about your son-in-law’s visits; you brought + him here—take him away again! If you have any authority in your + family, it seems to me that you may very well insist on your wife’s + patching up this squabble. Tell the worthy old lady from me, that if I am + unjustly charged with having caused a young couple to quarrel, with + upsetting the unity of a family, and annexing both the father and the + son-in-law, I will deserve my reputation by annoying them in my own way! + Why, here is Lisbeth talking of throwing me over! She prefers to stick to + her family, and I cannot blame her for it. She will throw me over, says + she, unless the young people make friends again. A pretty state of things! + Our expenses here will be trebled!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, as for that!” said the Baron, on hearing of his daughter’s strong + measures, “I will have no nonsense of that kind.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well,” said Valerie. “And now for the next thing.—What about + Coquet’s place?” + </p> + <p> + “That,” said Hector, looking away, “is more difficult, not to say + impossible.” + </p> + <p> + “Impossible, my dear Hector?” said Madame Marneffe in the Baron’s ear. + “But you do not know to what lengths Marneffe will go. I am completely in + his power; he is immoral for his own gratification, like most men, but he + is excessively vindictive, like all weak and impotent natures. In the + position to which you have reduced me, I am in his power. I am bound to be + on terms with him for a few days, and he is quite capable of refusing to + leave my room any more.” + </p> + <p> + Hulot started with horror. + </p> + <p> + “He would leave me alone on condition of being head-clerk. It is + abominable—but logical.” + </p> + <p> + “Valerie, do you love me?” + </p> + <p> + “In the state in which I am, my dear, the question is the meanest insult.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then—if I were to attempt, merely to attempt, to ask the + Prince for a place for Marneffe, I should be done for, and Marneffe would + be turned out.” + </p> + <p> + “I thought that you and the Prince were such intimate friends.” + </p> + <p> + “We are, and he has amply proved it; but, my child, there is authority + above the Marshal’s—for instance, the whole Council of Ministers. + With time and a little tacking, we shall get there. But, to succeed, I + must wait till the moment when some service is required of me. Then I can + say one good turn deserves another—” + </p> + <p> + “If I tell Marneffe this tale, my poor Hector, he will play us some mean + trick. You must tell him yourself that he has to wait. I will not + undertake to do so. Oh! I know what my fate would be. He knows how to + punish me! He will henceforth share my room—— + </p> + <p> + “Do not forget to settle the twelve hundred francs a year on the little + one!” + </p> + <p> + Hulot, seeing his pleasures in danger, took Monsieur Marneffe aside, and + for the first time derogated from the haughty tone he had always assumed + towards him, so greatly was he horrified by the thought of that half-dead + creature in his pretty young wife’s bedroom. + </p> + <p> + “Marneffe, my dear fellow,” said he, “I have been talking of you to-day. + But you cannot be promoted to the first class just yet. We must have + time.” + </p> + <p> + “I will be, Monsieur le Baron,” said Marneffe shortly. + </p> + <p> + “But, my dear fellow—” + </p> + <p> + “I <i>will</i> be, Monsieur le Baron,” Marneffe coldly repeated, looking + alternately at the Baron and at Valerie. “You have placed my wife in a + position that necessitates her making up her differences with me, and I + mean to keep her; for, <i>my dear fellow</i>, she is a charming creature,” + he added, with crushing irony. “I am master here—more than you are + at the War Office.” + </p> + <p> + The Baron felt one of those pangs of fury which have the effect, in the + heart, of a fit of raging toothache, and he could hardly conceal the tears + in his eyes. + </p> + <p> + During this little scene, Valerie had been explaining Marneffe’s imaginary + determination to Montes, and thus had rid herself of him for a time. + </p> + <p> + Of her four adherents, Crevel alone was exempted from the rule—Crevel, + the master of the little “bijou” apartment; and he displayed on his + countenance an air of really insolent beatitude, notwithstanding the + wordless reproofs administered by Valerie in frowns and meaning grimaces. + His triumphant paternity beamed in every feature. + </p> + <p> + When Valerie was whispering a word of correction in his ear, he snatched + her hand, and put in: + </p> + <p> + “To-morrow, my Duchess, you shall have your own little house! The papers + are to be signed to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + “And the furniture?” said she, with a smile. + </p> + <p> + “I have a thousand shares in the Versailles <i>rive gauche</i> railway. I + bought them at twenty-five, and they will go up to three hundred in + consequence of the amalgamation of the two lines, which is a secret told + to me. You shall have furniture fit for a queen. But then you will be mine + alone henceforth?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, burly Maire,” said this middle-class Madame de Merteuil. “But behave + yourself; respect the future Madame Crevel.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear cousin,” Lisbeth was saying to the Baron, “I shall go to see + Adeline early to-morrow; for, as you must see, I cannot, with any decency, + remain here. I will go and keep house for your brother the Marshal.” + </p> + <p> + “I am going home this evening,” said Hulot. + </p> + <p> + “Very well, you will see me at breakfast to-morrow,” said Lisbeth, + smiling. + </p> + <p> + She understood that her presence would be necessary at the family scene + that would take place on the morrow. And the very first thing in the + morning she went to see Victorin and to tell him that Hortense and + Wenceslas had parted. + </p> + <p> + When the Baron went home at half-past ten, Mariette and Louise, who had + had a hard day, were locking up the apartment. Hulot had not to ring. + </p> + <p> + Very much put out at this compulsory virtue, the husband went straight to + his wife’s room, and through the half-open door he saw her kneeling before + her Crucifix, absorbed in prayer, in one of those attitudes which make the + fortune of the painter or the sculptor who is so happy to invent and then + to express them. Adeline, carried away by her enthusiasm, was praying + aloud: + </p> + <p> + “O God, have mercy and enlighten him!” + </p> + <p> + The Baroness was praying for her Hector. + </p> + <p> + At this sight, so unlike what he had just left, and on hearing this + petition founded on the events of the day, the Baron heaved a sigh of deep + emotion. Adeline looked round, her face drowned in tears. She was so + convinced that her prayer had been heard, that, with one spring, she threw + her arms round Hector with the impetuosity of happy affection. Adeline had + given up all a wife’s instincts; sorrow had effaced even the memory of + them. No feeling survived in her but those of motherhood, of the family + honor, and the pure attachment of a Christian wife for a husband who has + gone astray—the saintly tenderness which survives all else in a + woman’s soul. + </p> + <p> + “Hector!” she said, “are you come back to us? Has God taken pity on our + family?” + </p> + <p> + “Dear Adeline,” replied the Baron, coming in and seating his wife by his + side on a couch, “you are the saintliest creature I ever knew; I have long + known myself to be unworthy of you.” + </p> + <p> + “You would have very little to do, my dear,” said she, holding Hulot’s + hand and trembling so violently that it was as though she had a palsy, + “very little to set things in order—” + </p> + <p> + She dared not proceed; she felt that every word would be a reproof, and + she did not wish to mar the happiness with which this meeting was + inundating her soul. + </p> + <p> + “It is Hortense who has brought me here,” said Hulot. “That child may do + us far more harm by her hasty proceeding than my absurd passion for + Valerie has ever done. But we will discuss all this to-morrow morning. + Hortense is asleep, Mariette tells me; we will not disturb her.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Madame Hulot, suddenly plunged into the depths of grief. + </p> + <p> + She understood that the Baron’s return was prompted not so much by the + wish to see his family as by some ulterior interest. + </p> + <p> + “Leave her in peace till to-morrow,” said the mother. “The poor child is + in a deplorable condition; she has been crying all day.” + </p> + <p> + At nine the next morning, the Baron, awaiting his daughter, whom he had + sent for, was pacing the large, deserted drawing-room, trying to find + arguments by which to conquer the most difficult form of obstinacy there + is to deal with—that of a young wife, offended and implacable, as + blameless youth ever is, in its ignorance of the disgraceful compromises + of the world, of its passions and interests. + </p> + <p> + “Here I am, papa,” said Hortense in a tremulous voice, and looking pale + from her miseries. + </p> + <p> + Hulot, sitting down, took his daughter round the waist, and drew her down + to sit on his knee. + </p> + <p> + “Well, my child,” said he, kissing her forehead, “so there are troubles at + home, and you have been hasty and headstrong? That is not like a well-bred + child. My Hortense ought not to have taken such a decisive step as that of + leaving her house and deserting her husband on her own account, and + without consulting her parents. If my darling girl had come to see her + kind and admirable mother, she would not have given me this cruel pain I + feel!—You do not know the world; it is malignantly spiteful. People + will perhaps say that your husband sent you back to your parents. Children + brought up as you were, on your mother’s lap, remain artless; maidenly + passion like yours for Wenceslas, unfortunately, makes no allowances; it + acts on every impulse. The little heart is moved, the head follows suit. + You would burn down Paris to be revenged, with no thought of the courts of + justice! + </p> + <p> + “When your old father tells you that you have outraged the proprieties, + you may take his word for it.—I say nothing of the cruel pain you + have given me. It is bitter, I assure you, for you throw all the blame on + a woman of whose heart you know nothing, and whose hostility may become + disastrous. And you, alas! so full of guileless innocence and purity, can + have no suspicions; but you may be vilified and slandered.—Besides, + my darling pet, you have taken a foolish jest too seriously. I can assure + you, on my honor, that your husband is blameless. Madame Marneffe—” + </p> + <p> + So far the Baron, artistically diplomatic, had formulated his + remonstrances very judiciously. He had, as may be observed, worked up to + the mention of this name with superior skill; and yet Hortense, as she + heard it, winced as if stung to the quick. + </p> + <p> + “Listen to me; I have had great experience, and I have seen much,” he went + on, stopping his daughter’s attempt to speak. “That lady is very cold to + your husband. Yes, you have been made the victim of a practical joke, and + I will prove it to you. Yesterday Wenceslas was dining with her—” + </p> + <p> + “Dining with her!” cried the young wife, starting to her feet, and looking + at her father with horror in every feature. “Yesterday! After having had + my letter! Oh, great God!—Why did I not take the veil rather than + marry? But now my life is not my own! I have the child!” and she sobbed. + </p> + <p> + Her weeping went to Madame Hulot’s heart. She came out of her room and ran + to her daughter, taking her in her arms, and asking her those questions, + stupid with grief, which first rose to her lips. + </p> + <p> + “Now we have tears,” said the Baron to himself, “and all was going so + well! What is to be done with women who cry?” + </p> + <p> + “My child,” said the Baroness, “listen to your father! He loves us all—come, + come—” + </p> + <p> + “Come, Hortense, my dear little girl, cry no more, you make yourself too + ugly!” said the Baron, “Now, be a little reasonable. Go sensibly home, and + I promise you that Wenceslas shall never set foot in that woman’s house. I + ask you to make the sacrifice, if it is a sacrifice to forgive the husband + you love so small a fault. I ask you—for the sake of my gray hairs, + and of the love you owe your mother. You do not want to blight my later + years with bitterness and regret?” + </p> + <p> + Hortense fell at her father’s feet like a crazed thing, with the vehemence + of despair; her hair, loosely pinned up, fell about her, and she held out + her hands with an expression that painted her misery. + </p> + <p> + “Father,” she said, “ask my life! Take it if you will, but at least take + it pure and spotless, and I will yield it up gladly. Do not ask me to die + in dishonor and crime. I am not at all like my husband; I cannot swallow + an outrage. If I went back under my husband’s roof, I should be capable of + smothering him in a fit of jealousy—or of doing worse! Do no exact + from me a thing that is beyond my powers. Do not have to mourn for me + still living, for the least that can befall me is to go mad. I feel + madness close upon me! + </p> + <p> + “Yesterday, yesterday, he could dine with that woman, after having read my + letter?—Are other men made so? My life I give you, but do not let my + death be ignominious!—His fault?—A small one! When he has a + child by that woman!” + </p> + <p> + “A child!” cried Hulot, starting back a step or two. “Come. This is really + some fooling.” + </p> + <p> + At this juncture Victorin and Lisbeth arrived, and stood dumfounded at the + scene. The daughter was prostrate at her father’s feet. The Baroness, + speechless between her maternal feelings and her conjugal duty, showed a + harassed face bathed in tears. + </p> + <p> + “Lisbeth,” said the Baron, seizing his cousin by the hand and pointing to + Hortense, “you can help me here. My poor child’s brain is turned; she + believes that her Wenceslas is Madame Marneffe’s lover, while all that + Valerie wanted was to have a group by him.” + </p> + <p> + “<i>Delilah</i>!” cried the young wife. “The only thing he has done since + our marriage. The man would not work for me or for his son, and he has + worked with frenzy for that good-for-nothing creature.—Oh, father, + kill me outright, for every word stabs like a knife!” + </p> + <p> + Lisbeth turned to the Baroness and Victorin, pointing with a pitying shrug + to the Baron, who could not see her. + </p> + <p> + “Listen to me,” said she to him. “I had no idea—when you asked me to + go to lodge over Madame Marneffe and keep house for her—I had no + idea of what she was; but many things may be learned in three years. That + creature is a prostitute, and one whose depravity can only be compared + with that of her infamous and horrible husband. You are the dupe, my lord + pot-boiler, of those people; you will be led further by them than you + dream of! I speak plainly, for you are at the bottom of a pit.” + </p> + <p> + The Baroness and her daughter, hearing Lisbeth speak in this style, cast + adoring looks at her, such as the devout cast at a Madonna for having + saved their life. + </p> + <p> + “That horrible woman was bent on destroying your son-in-law’s home. To + what end?—I know not. My brain is not equal to seeing clearly into + these dark intrigues—perverse, ignoble, infamous! Your Madame + Marneffe does not love your son-in-law, but she will have him at her feet + out of revenge. I have just spoken to the wretched woman as she deserves. + She is a shameless courtesan; I have told her that I am leaving her house, + that I would not have my honor smirched in that muck-heap.—I owe + myself to my family before all else. + </p> + <p> + “I knew that Hortense had left her husband, so here I am. Your Valerie, + whom you believe to be a saint, is the cause of this miserable separation; + can I remain with such a woman? Our poor little Hortense,” said she, + touching the Baron’s arm, with peculiar meaning, “is perhaps the dupe of a + wish of such women as these, who, to possess a toy, would sacrifice a + family. + </p> + <p> + “I do not think Wenceslas guilty; but I think him weak, and I cannot + promise that he will not yield to her refinements of temptation.—My + mind is made up. The woman is fatal to you; she will bring you all to + utter ruin. I will not even seem to be concerned in the destruction of my + own family, after living there for three years solely to hinder it. + </p> + <p> + “You are cheated, Baron; say very positively that you will have nothing to + say to the promotion of that dreadful Marneffe, and you will see then! + There is a fine rod in pickle for you in that case.” + </p> + <p> + Lisbeth lifted up Hortense and kissed her enthusiastically. + </p> + <p> + “My dear Hortense, stand firm,” she whispered. + </p> + <p> + The Baroness embraced Lisbeth with the vehemence of a woman who sees + herself avenged. The whole family stood in perfect silence round the + father, who had wit enough to know what that silence implied. A storm of + fury swept across his brow and face with evident signs; the veins swelled, + his eyes were bloodshot, his flesh showed patches of color. Adeline fell + on her knees before him and seized his hands. + </p> + <p> + “My dear, forgive, my dear!” + </p> + <p> + “You loathe me!” cried the Baron—the cry of his conscience. + </p> + <p> + For we all know the secret of our own wrong-doing. We almost always + ascribe to our victims the hateful feelings which must fill them with the + hope of revenge; and in spite of every effort of hypocrisy, our tongue or + our face makes confession under the rack of some unexpected anguish, as + the criminal of old confessed under the hands of the torturer. + </p> + <p> + “Our children,” he went on, to retract the avowal, “turn at last to be our + enemies—” + </p> + <p> + “Father!” Victorin began. + </p> + <p> + “You dare to interrupt your father!” said the Baron in a voice of thunder, + glaring at his son. + </p> + <p> + “Father, listen to me,” Victorin went on in a clear, firm voice, the voice + of a puritanical deputy. “I know the respect I owe you too well ever to + fail in it, and you will always find me the most respectful and submissive + of sons.” + </p> + <p> + Those who are in the habit of attending the sittings of the Chamber will + recognize the tactics of parliamentary warfare in these fine-drawn + phrases, used to calm the factions while gaining time. + </p> + <p> + “We are far from being your enemies,” his son went on. “I have quarreled + with my father-in-law, Monsieur Crevel, for having rescued your notes of + hand for sixty thousand francs from Vauvinet, and that money is, beyond + doubt, in Madame Marneffe’s pocket.—I am not finding fault with you, + father,” said he, in reply to an impatient gesture of the Baron’s; “I + simply wish to add my protest to my cousin Lisbeth’s, and to point out to + you that though my devotion to you as a father is blind and unlimited, my + dear father, our pecuniary resources, unfortunately, are very limited.” + </p> + <p> + “Money!” cried the excitable old man, dropping on to a chair, quite + crushed by this argument. “From my son!—You shall be repaid your + money, sir,” said he, rising, and he went to the door. + </p> + <p> + “Hector!” + </p> + <p> + At this cry the Baron turned round, suddenly showing his wife a face + bathed in tears; she threw her arms round him with the strength of + despair. + </p> + <p> + “Do not leave us thus—do not go away in anger. I have not said a + word—not I!” + </p> + <p> + At this heart-wrung speech the children fell at their father’s feet. + </p> + <p> + “We all love you,” said Hortense. + </p> + <p> + Lisbeth, as rigid as a statue, watched the group with a superior smile on + her lips. Just then Marshal Hulot’s voice was heard in the anteroom. The + family all felt the importance of secrecy, and the scene suddenly changed. + The young people rose, and every one tried to hide all traces of emotion. + </p> + <p> + A discussion was going on at the door between Mariette and a soldier, who + was so persistent that the cook came in. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur, a regimental quartermaster, who says he is just come from + Algiers, insists on seeing you.” + </p> + <p> + “Tell him to wait.” + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur,” said Mariette to her master in an undertone, “he told me to + tell you privately that it has to do with your uncle there.” + </p> + <p> + The Baron started; he believed that the funds had been sent at last which + he had been asking for these two months, to pay up his bills; he left the + family-party, and hurried out to the anteroom. + </p> + <p> + “You are Monsieur de Paron Hulot?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Your own self?” + </p> + <p> + “My own self.” + </p> + <p> + The man, who had been fumbling meanwhile in the lining of his cap, drew + out a letter, of which the Baron hastily broke the seal, and read as + follows:— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “DEAR NEPHEW,—Far from being able to send you the hundred + thousand francs you ask of me, my present position is not tenable + unless you can take some decisive steps to save me. We are saddled + with a public prosecutor who talks goody, and rhodomontades + nonsense about the management. It is impossible to get the + black-chokered pump to hold his tongue. If the War Minister allows + civilians to feed out of his hand, I am done for. I can trust the + bearer; try to get him promoted; he has done us good service. Do + not abandon me to the crows!” + </pre> + <p> + This letter was a thunderbolt; the Baron could read in it the intestine + warfare between civil and military authorities, which to this day hampers + the Government, and he was required to invent on the spot some palliative + for the difficulty that stared him in the face. He desired the soldier to + come back next day, dismissing him with splendid promises of promotion, + and he returned to the drawing-room. “Good-day and good-bye, brother,” + said he to the Marshal.—“Good-bye, children.—Good-bye, my dear + Adeline.—And what are you going to do, Lisbeth?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “I?—I am going to keep house for the Marshal, for I must end my days + doing what I can for one or another of you.” + </p> + <p> + “Do not leave Valerie till I have seen you again,” said Hulot in his + cousin’s ear.—“Good-bye, Hortense, refractory little puss; try to be + reasonable. I have important business to be attended to at once; we will + discuss your reconciliation another time. Now, think it over, my child,” + said he as he kissed her. + </p> + <p> + And he went away, so evidently uneasy, that his wife and children felt the + gravest apprehensions. + </p> + <p> + “Lisbeth,” said the Baroness, “I must find out what is wrong with Hector; + I never saw him in such a state. Stay a day or two longer with that woman; + he tells her everything, and we can then learn what has so suddenly upset + him. Be quite easy; we will arrange your marriage to the Marshal, for it + is really necessary.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall never forget the courage you have shown this morning,” said + Hortense, embracing Lisbeth. + </p> + <p> + “You have avenged our poor mother,” said Victorin. + </p> + <p> + The Marshal looked on with curiosity at all the display of affection + lavished on Lisbeth, who went off to report the scene to Valerie. + </p> + <p> + This sketch will enable guileless souls to understand what various + mischief Madame Marneffes may do in a family, and the means by which they + reach poor virtuous wives apparently so far out of their ken. And then, if + we only transfer, in fancy, such doings to the upper class of society + about a throne, and if we consider what kings’ mistresses must have cost + them, we may estimate the debt owed by a nation to a sovereign who sets + the example of a decent and domestic life. + </p> + <p> + In Paris each ministry is a little town by itself, whence women are + banished; but there is just as much detraction and scandal as though the + feminine population were admitted there. At the end of three years, + Monsieur Marneffe’s position was perfectly clear and open to the day, and + in every room one and another asked, “Is Marneffe to be, or not to be, + Coquet’s successor?” Exactly as the question might have been put to the + Chamber, “Will the estimates pass or not pass?” The smallest initiative on + the part of the board of Management was commented on; everything in Baron + Hulot’s department was carefully noted. The astute State Councillor had + enlisted on his side the victim of Marneffe’s promotion, a hard-working + clerk, telling him that if he could fill Marneffe’s place, he would + certainly succeed to it; he had told him that the man was dying. So this + clerk was scheming for Marneffe’s advancement. + </p> + <p> + When Hulot went through his anteroom, full of visitors, he saw Marneffe’s + colorless face in a corner, and sent for him before any one else. + </p> + <p> + “What do you want of me, my dear fellow?” said the Baron, disguising his + anxiety. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur le Directeur, I am the laughing-stock of the office, for it has + become known that the chief of the clerks has left this morning for a + holiday, on the ground of his health. He is to be away a month. Now, we + all know what waiting for a month means. You deliver me over to the + mockery of my enemies, and it is bad enough to be drummed upon one side; + drumming on both at once, monsieur, is apt to burst the drum.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear Marneffe, it takes long patience to gain an end. You cannot be + made head-clerk in less than two months, if ever. Just when I must, as far + as possible, secure my own position, is not the time to be applying for + your promotion, which would raise a scandal.” + </p> + <p> + “If you are broke, I shall never get it,” said Marneffe coolly. “And if + you get me the place, it will make no difference in the end.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I am to sacrifice myself for you?” said the Baron. + </p> + <p> + “If you do not, I shall be much mistaken in you.” + </p> + <p> + “You are too exclusively Marneffe, Monsieur Marneffe,” said Hulot, rising + and showing the clerk the door. + </p> + <p> + “I have the honor to wish you good-morning, Monsieur le Baron,” said + Marneffe humbly. + </p> + <p> + “What an infamous rascal!” thought the Baron. “This is uncommonly like a + summons to pay within twenty-four hours on pain of distraint.” + </p> + <p> + Two hours later, just when the Baron had been instructing Claude Vignon, + whom he was sending to the Ministry of Justice to obtain information as to + the judicial authorities under whose jurisdiction Johann Fischer might + fall, Reine opened the door of his private room and gave him a note, + saying she would wait for the answer. + </p> + <p> + “Valerie is mad!” said the Baron to himself. “To send Reine! It is enough + to compromise us all, and it certainly compromises that dreadful + Marneffe’s chances of promotion!” + </p> + <p> + But he dismissed the minister’s private secretary, and read as follows:— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Oh, my dear friend, what a scene I have had to endure! Though you + have made me happy for three years, I have paid dearly for it! He + came in from the office in a rage that made me quake. I knew he + was ugly; I have seen him a monster! His four real teeth + chattered, and he threatened me with his odious presence without + respite if I should continue to receive you. My poor, dear old + boy, our door is closed against you henceforth. You see my tears; + they are dropping on the paper and soaking it; can you read what I + write, dear Hector? Oh, to think of never seeing you, of giving + you up when I bear in me some of your life, as I flatter myself I + have your heart—it is enough to kill me. Think of our little + Hector! + + “Do not forsake me, but do not disgrace yourself for Marneffe’s + sake; do not yield to his threats. + + “I love you as I have never loved! I remember all the sacrifices + you have made for your Valerie; she is not, and never will be, + ungrateful; you are, and will ever be, my only husband. Think no + more of the twelve hundred francs a year I asked you to settle on + the dear little Hector who is to come some months hence; I will + not cost you anything more. And besides, my money will always be + yours. + + “Oh, if you only loved me as I love you, my Hector, you would + retire on your pension; we should both take leave of our family, + our worries, our surroundings, so full of hatred, and we should go + to live with Lisbeth in some pretty country place—in Brittany, or + wherever you like. There we should see nobody, and we should be + happy away from the world. Your pension and the little property I + can call my own would be enough for us. You say you are jealous; + well, you would then have your Valerie entirely devoted to her + Hector, and you would never have to talk in a loud voice, as you + did the other day. I shall have but one child—ours—you may be + sure, my dearly loved old veteran. + + “You cannot conceive of my fury, for you cannot know how he + treated me, and the foul words he vomited on your Valerie. Such + words would disgrace my paper; a woman such as I am—Montcornet’s + daughter—ought never to have heard one of them in her life. I + only wish you had been there, that I might have punished him with + the sight of the mad passion I felt for you. My father would have + killed the wretch; I can only do as women do—love you devotedly! + Indeed, my love, in the state of exasperation in which I am, I + cannot possibly give up seeing you. I must positively see you, in + secret, every day! That is what we are, we women. Your resentment + is mine. If you love me, I implore you, do not let him be + promoted; leave him to die a second-class clerk. + + “At this moment I have lost my head; I still seem to hear him + abusing me. Betty, who had meant to leave me, has pity on me, and + will stay for a few days. + + “My dear kind love, I do not know yet what is to be done. I see + nothing for it but flight. I always delight in the country + —Brittany, Languedoc, what you will, so long as I am free to love + you. Poor dear, how I pity you! Forced now to go back to your old + Adeline, to that lachrymal urn—for, as he no doubt told you, the + monster means to watch me night and day; he spoke of a detective! + Do not come here, he is capable of anything I know, since he could + make use of me for the basest purposes of speculation. I only wish + I could return you all the things I have received from your + generosity. + + “Ah! my kind Hector, I may have flirted, and have seemed to you to + be fickle, but you did not know your Valerie; she liked to tease + you, but she loves you better than any one in the world. + + “He cannot prevent your coming to see your cousin; I will arrange + with her that we have speech with each other. My dear old boy, + write me just a line, pray, to comfort me in the absence of your + dear self. (Oh, I would give one of my hands to have you by me on + our sofa!) A letter will work like a charm; write me something + full of your noble soul; I will return your note to you, for I + must be cautious; I should not know where to hide it, he pokes his + nose in everywhere. In short, comfort your Valerie, your little + wife, the mother of your child.—To think of my having to write to + you, when I used to see you every day. As I say to Lisbeth, ‘I did + not know how happy I was.’ A thousand kisses, dear boy. Be true to + your +</pre> + <h3> + “VALERIE.” + </h3> + <p> + “And tears!” said Hulot to himself as he finished this letter, “tears + which have blotted out her name.—How is she?” said he to Reine. + </p> + <p> + “Madame is in bed; she has dreadful spasms,” replied Reine. “She had a fit + of hysterics that twisted her like a withy round a faggot. It came on + after writing. It comes of crying so much. She heard monsieur’s voice on + the stairs.” + </p> + <p> + The Baron in his distress wrote the following note on office paper with a + printed heading:— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Be quite easy, my angel, he will die a second-class clerk!—Your + idea is admirable; we will go and live far from Paris, where we + shall be happy with our little Hector; I will retire on my + pension, and I shall be sure to find some good appointment on a + railway. + + “Ah, my sweet friend, I feel so much the younger for your letter! + I shall begin life again and make a fortune, you will see, for our + dear little one. As I read your letter, a thousand times more + ardent than those of the <i>Nouvelle Heloise</i>, it worked a miracle! + I had not believed it possible that I could love you more. This + evening, at Lisbeth’s you will see +</pre> + <h3> + “YOUR HECTOR, FOR LIFE.” + </h3> + <p> + Reine carried off this reply, the first letter the Baron had written to + his “sweet friend.” Such emotions to some extent counterbalanced the + disasters growling in the distance; but the Baron, at this moment + believing he could certainly avert the blows aimed at his uncle, Johann + Fischer, thought only of the deficit. + </p> + <p> + One of the characteristics of the Bonapartist temperament is a firm belief + in the power of the sword, and confidence in the superiority of the + military over civilians. Hulot laughed to scorn the Public Prosecutor in + Algiers, where the War Office is supreme. Man is always what he has once + been. How can the officers of the Imperial Guard forget that time was when + the mayors of the largest towns in the Empire and the Emperor’s prefects, + Emperors themselves on a minute scale, would come out to meet the Imperial + Guard, to pay their respects on the borders of the Departments through + which it passed, and to do it, in short, the homage due to sovereigns? + </p> + <p> + At half-past four the baron went straight to Madame Marneffe’s; his heart + beat as high as a young man’s as he went upstairs, for he was asking + himself this question, “Shall I see her? or shall I not?” + </p> + <p> + How was he now to remember the scene of the morning when his weeping + children had knelt at his feet? Valerie’s note, enshrined for ever in a + thin pocket-book over his heart, proved to him that she loved him more + than the most charming of young men. + </p> + <p> + Having rung, the unhappy visitor heard within the shuffling slippers and + vexatious scraping cough of the detestable master. Marneffe opened the + door, but only to put himself into an attitude and point to the stairs, + exactly as Hulot had shown him the door of his private room. + </p> + <p> + “You are too exclusively Hulot, Monsieur Hulot!” said he. + </p> + <p> + The Baron tried to pass him, Marneffe took a pistol out of his pocket and + cocked it. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur le Baron,” said he, “when a man is as vile as I am—for you + think me very vile, don’t you?—he would be the meanest galley-slave + if he did not get the full benefit of his betrayed honor.—You are + for war; it will be hot work and no quarter. Come here no more, and do not + attempt to get past me. I have given the police notice of my position with + regard to you.” + </p> + <p> + And taking advantage of Hulot’s amazement, he pushed him out and shut the + door. + </p> + <p> + “What a low scoundrel!” said Hulot to himself, as he went upstairs to + Lisbeth. “I understand her letter now. Valerie and I will go away from + Paris. Valerie is wholly mine for the remainder of my days; she will close + my eyes.” + </p> + <p> + Lisbeth was out. Madame Olivier told the Baron that she had gone to his + wife’s house, thinking that she would find him there. + </p> + <p> + “Poor thing! I should never have expected her to be so sharp as she was + this morning,” thought Hulot, recalling Lisbeth’s behavior as he made his + way from the Rue Vanneau to the Rue Plumet. + </p> + <p> + As he turned the corner of the Rue Vanneau and the Rue de Babylone, he + looked back at the Eden whence Hymen had expelled him with the sword of + the law. Valerie, at her window, was watching his departure; as he glanced + up, she waved her handkerchief, but the rascally Marneffe hit his wife’s + cap and dragged her violently away from the window. A tear rose to the + great official’s eye. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! to be so well loved! To see a woman so ill used, and to be so nearly + seventy years old!” thought he. + </p> + <p> + Lisbeth had come to give the family the good news. Adeline and Hortense + had already heard that the Baron, not choosing to compromise himself in + the eyes of the whole office by appointing Marneffe to the first class, + would be turned from the door by the Hulot-hating husband. Adeline, very + happy, had ordered a dinner that her Hector was to like better than any of + Valerie’s; and Lisbeth, in her devotion, was helping Mariette to achieve + this difficult result. Cousin Betty was the idol of the hour. Mother and + daughter kissed her hands, and had told her with touching delight that the + Marshal consented to have her as his housekeeper. + </p> + <p> + “And from that, my dear, there is but one step to becoming his wife!” said + Adeline. + </p> + <p> + “In fact, he did not say no when Victorin mentioned it,” added the + Countess. + </p> + <p> + The Baron was welcomed home with such charming proofs of affection, so + pathetically overflowing with love, that he was fain to conceal his + troubles. + </p> + <p> + Marshal Hulot came to dinner. After dinner, Hector did not go out. + Victorin and his wife joined them, and they made up a rubber. + </p> + <p> + “It is a long time, Hector,” said the Marshal gravely, “since you gave us + the treat of such an evening.” + </p> + <p> + This speech from the old soldier, who spoiled his brother though he thus + implicitly blamed him, made a deep impression. It showed how wide and deep + were the wounds in a heart where all the woes he had divined had found an + echo. At eight o’clock the Baron insisted on seeing Lisbeth home, + promising to return. + </p> + <p> + “Do you know, Lisbeth, he ill-treats her!” said he in the street. “Oh, I + never loved her so well!” + </p> + <p> + “I never imagined that Valerie loved you so well,” replied Lisbeth. “She + is frivolous and a coquette, she loves to have attentions paid her, and to + have the comedy of love-making performed for her, as she says; but you are + her only real attachment.” + </p> + <p> + “What message did she send me?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, this,” said Lisbeth. “She has, as you know, been on intimate terms + with Crevel. You must owe her no grudge, for that, in fact, is what has + raised her above utter poverty for the rest of her life; but she detests + him, and matters are nearly at an end.—Well, she has kept the key of + some rooms—” + </p> + <p> + “Rue du Dauphin!” cried the thrice-blest Baron. “If it were for that + alone, I would overlook Crevel.—I have been there; I know.” + </p> + <p> + “Here, then, is the key,” said Lisbeth. “Have another made from it in the + course of to-morrow—two if you can.” + </p> + <p> + “And then,” said Hulot eagerly. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I will dine at your house again to-morrow; you must give me back + Valerie’s key, for old Crevel might ask her to return it to him, and you + can meet her there the day after; then you can decide what your facts are + to be. You will be quite safe, as there are two ways out. If by chance + Crevel, who is <i>Regence</i> in his habits, as he is fond of saying, + should come in by the side street, you could go out through the shop, or + <i>vice versa</i>. + </p> + <p> + “You owe all this to me, you old villain; now what will you do for me?” + </p> + <p> + “Whatever you want.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you will not oppose my marrying your brother?” + </p> + <p> + “You! the Marechale Hulot, the Comtesse de Frozheim?” cried Hector, + startled. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Adeline is a Baroness!” retorted Betty in a vicious and formidable + tone. “Listen to me, you old libertine. You know how matters stand; your + family may find itself starving in the gutter—” + </p> + <p> + “That is what I dread,” said Hulot in dismay. + </p> + <p> + “And if your brother were to die, who would maintain your wife and + daughter? The widow of a Marshal gets at least six thousand francs + pension, doesn’t she? Well, then, I wish to marry to secure bread for your + wife and daughter—old dotard!” + </p> + <p> + “I had not seen it in that light!” said the Baron. “I will talk to my + brother—for we are sure of you.—Tell my angel that my life is + hers.” + </p> + <p> + And the Baron, having seen Lisbeth go into the house in the Rue Vanneau, + went back to his whist and stayed at home. The Baroness was at the height + of happiness; her husband seemed to be returning to domestic habits; for + about a fortnight he went to his office at nine every morning, he came in + to dinner at six, and spent the evening with his family. He twice took + Adeline and Hortense to the play. The mother and daughter paid for three + thanksgiving masses, and prayed to God to suffer them to keep the husband + and father He had restored to them. + </p> + <p> + One evening Victorin Hulot, seeing his father retire for the night, said + to his mother: + </p> + <p> + “Well, we are at any rate so far happy that my father has come back to us. + My wife and I shall never regret our capital if only this lasts—” + </p> + <p> + “Your father is nearly seventy,” said the Baroness. “He still thinks of + Madame Marneffe, that I can see; but he will forget her in time. A passion + for women is not like gambling, or speculation, or avarice; there is an + end to it.” + </p> + <p> + But Adeline, still beautiful in spite of her fifty years and her sorrows, + in this was mistaken. Profligates, men whom Nature has gifted with the + precious power of loving beyond the limits ordinarily set to love, rarely + are as old as their age. + </p> + <p> + During this relapse into virtue Baron Hulot had been three times to the + Rue du Dauphin, and had certainly not been the man of seventy. His + rekindled passion made him young again, and he would have sacrificed his + honor to Valerie, his family, his all, without a regret. But Valerie, now + completely altered, never mentioned money, not even the twelve hundred + francs a year to be settled on their son; on the contrary, she offered him + money, she loved Hulot as a woman of six-and-thirty loves a handsome + law-student—a poor, poetical, ardent boy. And the hapless wife + fancied she had reconquered her dear Hector! + </p> + <p> + The fourth meeting between this couple had been agreed upon at the end of + the third, exactly as formerly in Italian theatres the play was announced + for the next night. The hour fixed was nine in the morning. On the next + day when the happiness was due for which the amorous old man had resigned + himself to domestic rules, at about eight in the morning, Reine came and + asked to see the Baron. Hulot, fearing some catastrophe, went out to speak + with Reine, who would not come into the anteroom. The faithful + waiting-maid gave him the following note:— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “DEAR OLD MAN,—Do not go to the Rue du Dauphin. Our incubus is + ill, and I must nurse him; but be there this evening at nine. + Crevel is at Corbeil with Monsieur Lebas; so I am sure he will + bring no princess to his little palace. I have made arrangements + here to be free for the night and get back before Marneffe is + awake. Answer me as to all this, for perhaps your long elegy of a + wife no longer allows you your liberty as she did. I am told she + is still so handsome that you might play me false, you are such a + gay dog! Burn this note; I am suspicious of every one.” + </pre> + <p> + Hulot wrote this scrap in reply: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “MY LOVE,—As I have told you, my wife has not for five-and-twenty + years interfered with my pleasures. For you I would give up a + hundred Adelines.—I will be in the Crevel sanctum at nine this + evening awaiting my divinity. Oh that your clerk might soon die! + We should part no more. And this is the dearest wish of +</pre> + <h3> + “YOUR HECTOR.” + </h3> + <p> + That evening the Baron told his wife that he had business with the + Minister at Saint-Cloud, that he would come home at about four or five in + the morning; and he went to the Rue du Dauphin. It was towards the end of + the month of June. + </p> + <p> + Few men have in the course of their life known really the dreadful + sensation of going to their death; those who have returned from the foot + of the scaffold may be easily counted. But some have had a vivid + experience of it in dreams; they have gone through it all, to the + sensation of the knife at their throat, at the moment when waking and + daylight come to release them.—Well, the sensation to which the + Councillor of State was a victim at five in the morning in Crevel’s + handsome and elegant bed, was immeasurably worse than that of feeling + himself bound to the fatal block in the presence of ten thousand + spectators looking at you with twenty thousand sparks of fire. + </p> + <p> + Valerie was asleep in a graceful attitude. She was lovely, as a woman is + who is lovely enough to look so even in sleep. It is art invading nature; + in short, a living picture. + </p> + <p> + In his horizontal position the Baron’s eyes were but three feet above the + floor. His gaze, wandering idly, as that of a man who is just awake and + collecting his ideas, fell on a door painted with flowers by Jan, an + artist disdainful of fame. The Baron did not indeed see twenty thousand + flaming eyes, like the man condemned to death; he saw but one, of which + the shaft was really more piercing than the thousands on the Public + Square. + </p> + <p> + Now this sensation, far rarer in the midst of enjoyment even than that of + a man condemned to death, was one for which many a splenetic Englishman + would certainly pay a high price. The Baron lay there, horizontal still, + and literally bathed in cold sweat. He tried to doubt the fact; but this + murderous eye had a voice. A sound of whispering was heard through the + door. + </p> + <p> + “So long as it is nobody but Crevel playing a trick on me!” said the Baron + to himself, only too certain of an intruder in the temple. + </p> + <p> + The door was opened. The Majesty of the French Law, which in all documents + follows next to the King, became visible in the person of a worthy little + police-officer supported by a tall Justice of the Peace, both shown in by + Monsieur Marneffe. The police functionary, rooted in shoes of which the + straps were tied together with flapping bows, ended at top in a yellow + skull almost bare of hair, and a face betraying him as a wide-awake, + cheerful, and cunning dog, from whom Paris life had no secrets. His eyes, + though garnished with spectacles, pierced the glasses with a keen mocking + glance. The Justice of the Peace, a retired attorney, and an old admirer + of the fair sex, envied the delinquent. + </p> + <p> + “Pray excuse the strong measures required by our office, Monsieur le + Baron!” said the constable; “we are acting for the plaintiff. The Justice + of the Peace is here to authorize the visitation of the premises.—I + know who you are, and who the lady is who is accused.” + </p> + <p> + Valerie opened her astonished eyes, gave such a shriek as actresses use to + depict madness on the stage, writhed in convulsions on the bed, like a + witch of the Middle Ages in her sulphur-colored frock on a bed of faggots. + </p> + <p> + “Death, and I am ready! my dear Hector—but a police court?—Oh! + never.” + </p> + <p> + With one bound she passed the three spectators and crouched under the + little writing-table, hiding her face in her hands. + </p> + <p> + “Ruin! Death!” she cried. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur,” said Marneffe to Hulot, “if Madame Marneffe goes mad, you are + worse than a profligate; you will be a murderer.” + </p> + <p> + What can a man do, what can he say, when he is discovered in a bed which + is not his, even on the score of hiring, with a woman who is no more his + than the bed is?—Well, this: + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur the Justice of the Peace, Monsieur the Police Officer,” said the + Baron with some dignity, “be good enough to take proper care of that + unhappy woman, whose reason seems to me to be in danger.—You can + harangue me afterwards. The doors are locked, no doubt; you need not fear + that she will get away, or I either, seeing the costume we wear.” + </p> + <p> + The two functionaries bowed to the magnate’s injunctions. + </p> + <p> + “You, come here, miserable cur!” said Hulot in a low voice to Marneffe, + taking him by the arm and drawing him closer. “It is not I, but you, who + will be the murderer! You want to be head-clerk of your room and officer + of the Legion of Honor?” + </p> + <p> + “That in the first place, Chief!” replied Marneffe, with a bow. + </p> + <p> + “You shall be all that, only soothe your wife and dismiss these fellows.” + </p> + <p> + “Nay, nay!” said Marneffe knowingly. “These gentlemen must draw up their + report as eyewitnesses to the fact; without that, the chief evidence in my + case, where should I be? The higher official ranks are chokeful of + rascalities. You have done me out of my wife, and you have not promoted + me, Monsieur le Baron; I give you only two days to get out of the scrape. + Here are some letters—” + </p> + <p> + “Some letters!” interrupted Hulot. + </p> + <p> + “Yes; letters which prove that you are the father of the child my wife + expects to give birth to.—You understand? And you ought to settle on + my son a sum equal to what he will lose through this bastard. But I will + be reasonable; this does not distress me, I have no mania for paternity + myself. A hundred louis a year will satisfy me. By to-morrow I must be + Monsieur Coquet’s successor and see my name on the list for promotion in + the Legion of Honor at the July fetes, or else—the documentary + evidence and my charge against you will be laid before the Bench. I am not + so hard to deal with after all, you see.” + </p> + <p> + “Bless me, and such a pretty woman!” said the Justice of the Peace to the + police constable. “What a loss to the world if she should go mad!” + </p> + <p> + “She is not mad,” said the constable sententiously. The police is always + the incarnation of scepticism.—“Monsieur le Baron Hulot has been + caught by a trick,” he added, loud enough for Valerie to hear him. + </p> + <p> + Valerie shot a flash from her eye which would have killed him on the spot + if looks could effect the vengeance they express. The police-officer + smiled; he had laid a snare, and the woman had fallen into it. Marneffe + desired his wife to go into the other room and clothe herself decently, + for he and the Baron had come to an agreement on all points, and Hulot + fetched his dressing-gown and came out again. + </p> + <p> + “Gentlemen,” said he to the two officials, “I need not impress on you to + be secret.” + </p> + <p> + The functionaries bowed. + </p> + <p> + The police-officer rapped twice on the door; his clerk came in, sat down + at the “bonheur-du-jour,” and wrote what the constable dictated to him in + an undertone. Valerie still wept vehemently. When she was dressed, Hulot + went into the other room and put on his clothes. Meanwhile the report was + written. + </p> + <p> + Marneffe then wanted to take his wife home; but Hulot, believing that he + saw her for the last time, begged the favor of being allowed to speak with + her. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur, your wife has cost me dear enough for me to be allowed to say + good-bye to her—in the presence of you all, of course.” + </p> + <p> + Valerie went up to Hulot, and he whispered in her ear: + </p> + <p> + “There is nothing left for us but to fly, but how can we correspond? We + have been betrayed—” + </p> + <p> + “Through Reine,” she answered. “But my dear friend, after this scandal we + can never meet again. I am disgraced. Besides, you will hear dreadful + things about me—you will believe them—” + </p> + <p> + The Baron made a gesture of denial. + </p> + <p> + “You will believe them, and I can thank God for that, for then perhaps you + will not regret me.” + </p> + <p> + “He will <i>not</i> die a second-class clerk!” said Marneffe to Hulot, as + he led his wife away, saying roughly, “Come, madame; if I am foolish to + you, I do not choose to be a fool to others.” + </p> + <p> + Valerie left the house, Crevel’s Eden, with a last glance at the Baron, so + cunning that he thought she adored him. The Justice of the Peace gave + Madame Marneffe his arm to the hackney coach with a flourish of gallantry. + The Baron, who was required to witness the report, remained quite + bewildered, alone with the police-officer. When the Baron had signed, the + officer looked at him keenly, over his glasses. + </p> + <p> + “You are very sweet on the little lady, Monsieur le Baron?” + </p> + <p> + “To my sorrow, as you see.” + </p> + <p> + “Suppose that she does not care for you?” the man went on, “that she is + deceiving you?” + </p> + <p> + “I have long known that, monsieur—here, in this very spot, Monsieur + Crevel and I told each other——” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! Then you knew that you were in Monsieur le Maire’s private snuggery?” + </p> + <p> + “Perfectly.” + </p> + <p> + The constable lightly touched his hat with a respectful gesture. + </p> + <p> + “You are very much in love,” said he. “I say no more. I respect an + inveterate passion, as a doctor respects an inveterate complaint.—I + saw Monsieur de Nucingen, the banker, attacked in the same way—” + </p> + <p> + “He is a friend of mine,” said the Baron. “Many a time have I supped with + his handsome Esther. She was worth the two million francs she cost him.” + </p> + <p> + “And more,” said the officer. “That caprice of the old Baron’s cost four + persons their lives. Oh! such passions as these are like the cholera!” + </p> + <p> + “What had you to say to me?” asked the Baron, who took this indirect + warning very ill. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! why should I deprive you of your illusions?” replied the officer. + “Men rarely have any left at your age!” + </p> + <p> + “Rid me of them!” cried the Councillor. + </p> + <p> + “You will curse the physician later,” replied the officer, smiling. + </p> + <p> + “I beg of you, monsieur.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, that woman was in collusion with her husband.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!——” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir, and so it is in two cases out of every ten. Oh! we know it + well.” + </p> + <p> + “What proof have you of such a conspiracy?” + </p> + <p> + “In the first place, the husband!” said the other, with the calm acumen of + a surgeon practised in unbinding wounds. “Mean speculation is stamped in + every line of that villainous face. But you, no doubt, set great store by + a certain letter written by that woman with regard to the child?” + </p> + <p> + “So much so, that I always have it about me,” replied Hulot, feeling in + his breast-pocket for the little pocketbook which he always kept there. + </p> + <p> + “Leave your pocketbook where it is,” said the man, as crushing as a + thunder-clap. “Here is the letter.—I now know all I want to know. + Madame Marneffe, of course, was aware of what that pocketbook contained?” + </p> + <p> + “She alone in the world.” + </p> + <p> + “So I supposed.—Now for the proof you asked for of her collusion + with her husband.” + </p> + <p> + “Let us hear!” said the Baron, still incredulous. + </p> + <p> + “When we came in here, Monsieur le Baron, that wretched creature Marneffe + led the way, and he took up this letter, which his wife, no doubt, had + placed on this writing-table,” and he pointed to the <i>bonheur-du-jour</i>. + “That evidently was the spot agreed upon by the couple, in case she should + succeed in stealing the letter while you were asleep; for this letter, as + written to you by the lady, is, combined with those you wrote to her, + decisive evidence in a police-court.” + </p> + <p> + He showed Hulot the note that Reine had delivered to him in his private + room at the office. + </p> + <p> + “It is one of the documents in the case,” said the police-agent; “return + it to me, monsieur.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, monsieur,” replied Hulot with bitter expression, “that woman is + profligacy itself in fixed ratios. I am certain at this moment that she + has three lovers.” + </p> + <p> + “That is perfectly evident,” said the officer. “Oh, they are not all on + the streets! When a woman follows that trade in a carriage and a + drawing-room, and her own house, it is not a case for francs and centimes, + Monsieur le Baron. Mademoiselle Esther, of whom you spoke, and who + poisoned herself, made away with millions.—If you will take my + advice, you will get out of it, monsieur. This last little game will have + cost you dear. That scoundrel of a husband has the law on his side. And + indeed, but for me, that little woman would have caught you again!” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, monsieur,” said the Baron, trying to maintain his dignity. + </p> + <p> + “Now we will lock up; the farce is played out, and you can send your key + to Monsieur the Mayor.” + </p> + <p> + Hulot went home in a state of dejection bordering on helplessness, and + sunk in the gloomiest thoughts. He woke his noble and saintly wife, and + poured into her heart the history of the past three years, sobbing like a + child deprived of a toy. This confession from an old man young in feeling, + this frightful and heart-rending narrative, while it filled Adeline with + pity, also gave her the greatest joy; she thanked Heaven for this last + catastrophe, for in fancy she saw the husband settled at last in the bosom + of his family. + </p> + <p> + “Lisbeth was right,” said Madame Hulot gently and without any useless + recrimination, “she told us how it would be.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. If only I had listened to her, instead of flying into a rage, that + day when I wanted poor Hortense to go home rather than compromise the + reputation of that—Oh! my dear Adeline, we must save Wenceslas. He + is up to his chin in that mire!” + </p> + <p> + “My poor old man, the respectable middle-classes have turned out no better + than the actresses,” said Adeline, with a smile. + </p> + <p> + The Baroness was alarmed at the change in her Hector; when she saw him so + unhappy, ailing, crushed under his weight of woes, she was all heart, all + pity, all love; she would have shed her blood to make Hulot happy. + </p> + <p> + “Stay with us, my dear Hector. Tell me what is it that such women do to + attract you so powerfully. I too will try. Why have you not taught me to + be what you want? Am I deficient in intelligence? Men still think me + handsome enough to court my favor.” + </p> + <p> + Many a married woman, attached to her duty and to her husband, may here + pause to ask herself why strong and affectionate men, so tender-hearted to + the Madame Marneffes, do not take their wives for the object of their + fancies and passions, especially wives like the Baronne Adeline Hulot. + </p> + <p> + This is, indeed, one of the most recondite mysteries of human nature. + Love, which is debauch of reason, the strong and austere joy of a lofty + soul, and pleasure, the vulgar counterfeit sold in the market-place, are + two aspects of the same thing. The woman who can satisfy both these + devouring appetites is as rare in her sex as a great general, a great + writer, a great artist, a great inventor in a nation. A man of superior + intellect or an idiot—a Hulot or a Crevel—equally crave for + the ideal and for enjoyment; all alike go in search of the mysterious + compound, so rare that at last it is usually found to be a work in two + volumes. This craving is a depraved impulse due to society. + </p> + <p> + Marriage, no doubt, must be accepted as a tie; it is life, with its duties + and its stern sacrifices on both parts equally. Libertines, who seek for + hidden treasure, are as guilty as other evil-doers who are more hardly + dealt with than they. These reflections are not a mere veneer of + moralizing; they show the reason of many unexplained misfortunes. But, + indeed, this drama points its own moral—or morals, for they are of + many kinds. + </p> + <p> + The Baron presently went to call on the Marshal Prince de Wissembourg, + whose powerful patronage was now his only chance. Having dwelt under his + protection for five-and-thirty years, he was a visitor at all hours, and + would be admitted to his rooms as soon as he was up. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! How are you, my dear Hector?” said the great and worthy leader. “What + is the matter? You look anxious. And yet the session is ended. One more + over! I speak of that now as I used to speak of a campaign. And indeed I + believe the newspapers nowadays speak of the sessions as parliamentary + campaigns.” + </p> + <p> + “We have been in difficulties, I must confess, Marshal; but the times are + hard!” said Hulot. “It cannot be helped; the world was made so. Every + phase has its own drawbacks. The worst misfortunes in the year 1841 is + that neither the King nor the ministers are free to act as Napoleon was.” + </p> + <p> + The Marshal gave Hulot one of those eagle flashes which in its pride, + clearness, and perspicacity showed that, in spite of years, that lofty + soul was still upright and vigorous. + </p> + <p> + “You want me to so something for you?” said he, in a hearty tone. + </p> + <p> + “I find myself under the necessity of applying to you for the promotion of + one of my second clerks to the head of a room—as a personal favor to + myself—and his advancement to be officer of the Legion of Honor.” + </p> + <p> + “What is his name?” said the Marshal, with a look like a lightning flash. + </p> + <p> + “Marneffe.” + </p> + <p> + “He has a pretty wife; I saw her on the occasion of your daughter’s + marriage.—If Roger—but Roger is away!—Hector, my boy, + this is concerned with your pleasures. What, you still indulge—? + Well, you are a credit to the old Guard. That is what comes of having been + in the Commissariat; you have reserves!—But have nothing to do with + this little job, my dear boy; it is too strong of the petticoat to be good + business.” + </p> + <p> + “No, Marshal; it is bad business, for the police courts have a finger in + it. Would you like to see me go there?” + </p> + <p> + “The devil!” said the Prince uneasily. “Go on!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I am in the predicament of a trapped fox. You have always been so + kind to me, that you will, I am sure, condescend to help me out of the + shameful position in which I am placed.” + </p> + <p> + Hulot related his misadventures, as wittily and as lightly as he could. + </p> + <p> + “And you, Prince, will you allow my brother to die of grief, a man you + love so well; or leave one of your staff in the War Office, a Councillor + of State, to live in disgrace. This Marneffe is a wretched creature; he + can be shelved in two or three years.” + </p> + <p> + “How you talk of two or three years, my dear fellow!” said the Marshal. + </p> + <p> + “But, Prince, the Imperial Guard is immortal.” + </p> + <p> + “I am the last of the first batch of Marshals,” said the Prince. “Listen, + Hector. You do not know the extent of my attachment to you; you shall see. + On the day when I retire from office, we will go together. But you are not + a Deputy, my friend. Many men want your place; but for me, you would be + out of it by this time. Yes, I have fought many a pitched battle to keep + you in it.—Well, I grant you your two requests; it would be too bad + to see you riding the bar at your age and in the position you hold. But + you stretch your credit a little too far. If this appointment gives rise + to discussion, we shall not be held blameless. I can laugh at such things; + but you will find it a thorn under your feet. And the next session will + see your dismissal. Your place is held out as a bait to five or six + influential men, and you have been enabled to keep it solely by the force + of my arguments. I tell you, on the day when you retire, there will be + five malcontents to one happy man; whereas, by keeping you hanging on by a + thread for two or three years, we shall secure all six votes. There was a + great laugh at the Council meeting; the Veteran of the Old Guard, as they + say, was becoming desperately wide awake in parliamentary tactics! I am + frank with you.—And you are growing gray; you are a happy man to be + able to get into such difficulties as these! How long is it since I—Lieutenant + Cottin—had a mistress?” + </p> + <p> + He rang the bell. + </p> + <p> + “That police report must be destroyed,” he added. + </p> + <p> + “Monseigneur, you are as a father to me! I dared not mention my anxiety on + that point.” + </p> + <p> + “I still wish I had Roger here,” cried the Prince, as Mitouflet, his groom + of the chambers, came in. “I was just going to send for him!—You may + go, Mitouflet.—Go you, my dear old fellow, go and have the + nomination made out; I will sign it. At the same time, that low schemer + will not long enjoy the fruit of his crimes. He will be sharply watched, + and drummed out of the regiment for the smallest fault.—You are + saved this time, my dear Hector; take care for the future. Do not exhaust + your friends’ patience. You shall have the nomination this morning, and + your man shall get his promotion in the Legion of Honor.—How old are + you now?” + </p> + <p> + “Within three months of seventy.” + </p> + <p> + “What a scapegrace!” said the Prince, laughing. “It is you who deserve a + promotion, but, by thunder! we are not under Louis XV.!” + </p> + <p> + Such is the sense of comradeship that binds the glorious survivors of the + Napoleonic phalanx, that they always feel as if they were in camp + together, and bound to stand together through thick and thin. + </p> + <p> + “One more favor such as this,” Hulot reflected as he crossed the + courtyard, “and I am done for!” + </p> + <p> + The luckless official went to Baron de Nucingen, to whom he now owed a + mere trifle, and succeeded in borrowing forty thousand francs, on his + salary pledged for two years more; the banker stipulated that in the event + of Hulot’s retirement on his pension, the whole of it should be devoted to + the repayment of the sum borrowed till the capital and interest were all + cleared off. + </p> + <p> + This new bargain, like the first, was made in the name of Vauvinet, to + whom the Baron signed notes of hand to the amount of twelve thousand + francs. + </p> + <p> + On the following day, the fateful police report, the husband’s charge, the + letters—all the papers—were destroyed. The scandalous + promotion of Monsieur Marneffe, hardly heeded in the midst of the July + fetes, was not commented on in any newspaper. + </p> + <p> + Lisbeth, to all appearance at war with Madame Marneffe, had taken up her + abode with Marshal Hulot. Ten days after these events, the banns of + marriage were published between the old maid and the distinguished old + officer, to whom, to win his consent, Adeline had related the financial + disaster that had befallen her Hector, begging him never to mention it to + the Baron, who was, as she said, much saddened, quite depressed and + crushed. + </p> + <p> + “Alas! he is as old as his years,” she added. + </p> + <p> + So Lisbeth had triumphed. She was achieving the object of her ambition, + she would see the success of her scheme, and her hatred gratified. She + delighted in the anticipated joy of reigning supreme over the family who + had so long looked down upon her. Yes, she would patronize her patrons, + she would be the rescuing angel who would dole out a livelihood to the + ruined family; she addressed herself as “Madame la Comtesse” and “Madame + la Marechale,” courtesying in front of a glass. Adeline and Hortense + should end their days in struggling with poverty, while she, a visitor at + the Tuileries, would lord it in the fashionable world. + </p> + <p> + A terrible disaster overthrew the old maid from the social heights where + she so proudly enthroned herself. + </p> + <p> + On the very day when the banns were first published, the Baron received a + second message from Africa. Another Alsatian arrived, handed him a letter, + after assuring himself that he spoke to Baron Hulot, and after giving the + Baron the address of his lodgings, bowed himself out, leaving the great + man stricken by the opening lines of this letter:— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “DEAR NEPHEW,—You will receive this letter, by my calculations, + on the 7th of August. Supposing it takes you three days to send us + the help we need, and that it is a fortnight on the way here, that + brings us to the 1st of September. + + “If you can act decisively within that time, you will have saved + the honor and the life of yours sincerely, Johann Fischer. + + “This is what I am required to demand by the clerk you have made + my accomplice; for I am amenable, it would seem, to the law, at + the Assizes, or before a council of war. Of course, you understand + that Johann Fischer will never be brought to the bar of any + tribunal; he will go of his own act to appear at that of God. + + “Your clerk seems to me a bad lot, quite capable of getting you + into hot water; but he is as clever as any rogue. He says the line + for you to take is to call out louder than any one, and to send + out an inspector, a special commissioner, to discover who is + really guilty, rake up abuses, and make a fuss, in short; but if + we stir up the struggle, who will stand between us and the law? + + “If your commissioner arrives here by the 1st of September, and + you have given him your orders, sending by him two hundred + thousand francs to place in our storehouses the supplies we + profess to have secured in remote country places, we shall be + absolutely solvent and regarded as blameless. You can trust the + soldier who is the bearer of this letter with a draft in my name + on a house in Algiers. He is a trustworthy fellow, a relation of + mine, incapable of trying to find out what he is the bearer of. I + have taken measures to guarantee the fellow’s safe return. If you + can do nothing, I am ready and willing to die for the man to whom + we owe our Adeline’s happiness!” + </pre> + <p> + The anguish and raptures of passion and the catastrophe which had checked + his career of profligacy had prevented Baron Hulot’s ever thinking of poor + Johann Fischer, though his first letter had given warning of the danger + now become so pressing. The Baron went out of the dining-room in such + agitation that he literally dropped on to a sofa in the drawing-room. He + was stunned, sunk in the dull numbness of a heavy fall. He stared at a + flower on the carpet, quite unconscious that he still held in his hand + Johann’s fatal letter. + </p> + <p> + Adeline, in her room, heard her husband throw himself on the sofa, like a + lifeless mass; the noise was so peculiar that she fancied he had an + apoplectic attack. She looked through the door at the mirror, in such + dread as stops the breath and hinders motion, and she saw her Hector in + the attitude of a man crushed. The Baroness stole in on tiptoe; Hector + heard nothing; she went close up to him, saw the letter, took it, read it, + trembling in every limb. She went through one of those violent nervous + shocks that leave their traces for ever on the sufferer. Within a few days + she became subject to a constant trembling, for after the first instant + the need for action gave her such strength as can only be drawn from the + very wellspring of the vital powers. + </p> + <p> + “Hector, come into my room,” said she, in a voice that was no more than a + breath. “Do not let your daughter see you in this state! Come, my dear, + come!” + </p> + <p> + “Two hundred thousand francs? Where can I find them? I can get Claude + Vignon sent out there as commissioner. He is a clever, intelligent fellow.—That + is a matter of a couple of days.—But two hundred thousand francs! My + son has not so much; his house is loaded with mortgages for three hundred + thousand. My brother has saved thirty thousand francs at most. Nucingen + would simply laugh at me!—Vauvinet?—he was not very ready to + lend me the ten thousand francs I wanted to make up the sum for that + villain Marneffe’s boy. No, it is all up with me; I must throw myself at + the Prince’s feet, confess how matters stand, hear myself told that I am a + low scoundrel, and take his broadside so as to go decently to the bottom.” + </p> + <p> + “But, Hector, this is not merely ruin, it is disgrace,” said Adeline. “My + poor uncle will kill himself. Only kill us—yourself and me; you have + a right to do that, but do not be a murderer! Come, take courage; there + must be some way out of it.” + </p> + <p> + “Not one,” said Hulot. “No one in the Government could find two hundred + thousand francs, not if it were to save an Administration!—Oh, + Napoleon! where art thou?” + </p> + <p> + “My uncle! poor man! Hector, he must not be allowed to kill himself in + disgrace.” + </p> + <p> + “There is one more chance,” said he, “but a very remote one.—Yes, + Crevel is at daggers drawn with his daughter.—He has plenty of + money, he alone could—” + </p> + <p> + “Listen, Hector it will be better for your wife to perish than to leave + our uncle to perish—and your brother—the honor of the family!” + cried the Baroness, struck by a flash of light. “Yes, I can save you all.—Good + God! what a degrading thought! How could it have occurred to me?” + </p> + <p> + She clasped her hands, dropped on her knees, and put up a prayer. On + rising, she saw such a crazy expression of joy on her husband’s face, that + the diabolical suggestion returned, and then Adeline sank into a sort of + idiotic melancholy. + </p> + <p> + “Go, my dear, at once to the War Office,” said she, rousing herself from + this torpor; “try to send out a commission; it must be done. Get round the + Marshal. And on your return, at five o’clock, you will find—perhaps—yes! + you shall find two hundred thousand francs. Your family, your honor as a + man, as a State official, a Councillor of State, your honesty—your + son—all shall be saved;—but your Adeline will be lost, and you + will see her no more. Hector, my dear,” said she, kneeling before him, + clasping and kissing his hand, “give me your blessing! Say farewell.” + </p> + <p> + It was so heart-rending that Hulot put his arms round his wife, raised her + and kissed her, saying: + </p> + <p> + “I do not understand.” + </p> + <p> + “If you did,” said she, “I should die of shame, or I should not have the + strength to carry out this last sacrifice.” + </p> + <p> + “Breakfast is served,” said Mariette. + </p> + <p> + Hortense came in to wish her parents good-morning. They had to go to + breakfast and assume a false face. + </p> + <p> + “Begin without me; I will join you,” said the Baroness. + </p> + <p> + She sat down to her desk and wrote as follows: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “MY DEAR MONSIEUR CREVEL,—I have to ask a service of you; I shall + expect you this morning, and I count on your gallantry, which is + well known to me, to save me from having too long to wait for you. + —Your faithful servant, + + “ADELINE HULOT.” + </pre> + <p> + “Louise,” said she to her daughter’s maid, who waited on her, “take this + note down to the porter and desire him to carry it at once to this address + and wait for an answer.” + </p> + <p> + The Baron, who was reading the news, held out a Republican paper to his + wife, pointing to an article, and saying: + </p> + <p> + “Is there time?” + </p> + <p> + This was the paragraph, one of the terrible “notes” with which the papers + spice their political bread and butter:— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “A correspondent in Algiers writes that such abuses have been + discovered in the commissariate transactions of the province of + Oran, that the Law is making inquiries. The peculation is + self-evident, and the guilty persons are known. If severe measures + are not taken, we shall continue to lose more men through the + extortion that limits their rations than by Arab steel or the + fierce heat of the climate. We await further information before + enlarging on this deplorable business. We need no longer wonder at + the terror caused by the establishment of the Press in Africa, as + was contemplated by the Charter of 1830.” + </pre> + <p> + “I will dress and go to the Minister,” said the Baron, as they rose from + table. “Time is precious; a man’s life hangs on every minute.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, mamma, there is no hope for me!” cried Hortense. And unable to check + her tears, she handed to her mother a number of the <i>Revue des Beaux + Arts</i>. + </p> + <p> + Madame Hulot’s eye fell on a print of the group of “Delilah” by Count + Steinbock, under which were the words, “The property of Madame Marneffe.” + </p> + <p> + The very first lines of the article, signed V., showed the talent and + friendliness of Claude Vignon. + </p> + <p> + “Poor child!” said the Baroness. + </p> + <p> + Alarmed by her mother’s tone of indifference, Hortense looked up, saw the + expression of a sorrow before which her own paled, and rose to kiss her + mother, saying: + </p> + <p> + “What is the matter, mamma? What is happening? Can we be more wretched + than we are already?” + </p> + <p> + “My child, it seems to me that in what I am going through to-day my past + dreadful sorrows are as nothing. When shall I have ceased to suffer?” + </p> + <p> + “In heaven, mother,” said Hortense solemnly. + </p> + <p> + “Come, my angel, help me to dress.—No, no; I will not have you help + me in this! Send me Louise.” + </p> + <p> + Adeline, in her room, went to study herself in the glass. She looked at + herself closely and sadly, wondering to herself: + </p> + <p> + “Am I still handsome? Can I still be desirable? Am I not wrinkled?” + </p> + <p> + She lifted up her fine golden hair, uncovering her temples; they were as + fresh as a girl’s. She went further; she uncovered her shoulders, and was + satisfied; nay, she had a little feeling of pride. The beauty of really + handsome shoulders is one of the last charms a woman loses, especially if + she has lived chastely. + </p> + <p> + Adeline chose her dress carefully, but the pious and blameless woman is + decent to the end, in spite of her little coquettish graces. Of what use + were brand-new gray silk stockings and high heeled satin shoes when she + was absolutely ignorant of the art of displaying a pretty foot at a + critical moment, by obtruding it an inch or two beyond a half-lifted + skirt, opening horizons to desire? She put on, indeed, her prettiest + flowered muslin dress, with a low body and short sleeves; but horrified at + so much bareness, she covered her fine arms with clear gauze sleeves and + hid her shoulders under an embroidered cape. Her curls, <i>a l’Anglaise</i>, + struck her as too fly-away; she subdued their airy lightness by putting on + a very pretty cap; but, with or without the cap, would she have known how + to twist the golden ringlets so as to show off her taper fingers to + admiration? + </p> + <p> + As to rouge—the consciousness of guilt, the preparations for a + deliberate fall, threw this saintly woman into a state of high fever, + which, for the time, revived the brilliant coloring of youth. Her eyes + were bright, her cheeks glowed. Instead of assuming a seductive air, she + saw in herself a look of barefaced audacity which shocked her. + </p> + <p> + Lisbeth, at Adeline’s request, had told her all the circumstances of + Wenceslas’ infidelity; and the Baroness had learned to her utter + amazement, that in one evening in one moment, Madame Marneffe had made + herself the mistress of the bewitched artist. + </p> + <p> + “How do these women do it?” the Baroness had asked Lisbeth. + </p> + <p> + There is no curiosity so great as that of virtuous women on such subjects; + they would like to know the arts of vice and remain immaculate. + </p> + <p> + “Why, they are seductive; it is their business,” said Cousin Betty. + “Valerie that evening, my dear, was, I declare, enough to bring an angel + to perdition.” + </p> + <p> + “But tell me how she set to work.” + </p> + <p> + “There is no principle, only practice in that walk of life,” said Lisbeth + ironically. + </p> + <p> + The Baroness, recalling this conversation, would have liked to consult + Cousin Betty; but there was no time for that. Poor Adeline, incapable of + imagining a patch, of pinning a rosebud in the very middle of her bosom, + of devising the tricks of the toilet intended to resuscitate the ardors of + exhausted nature, was merely well dressed. A woman is not a courtesan for + the wishing! + </p> + <p> + “Woman is soup for man,” as Moliere says by the mouth of the judicious + Gros-Rene. This comparison suggests a sort of culinary art in love. Then + the virtuous wife would be a Homeric meal, flesh laid on hot cinders. The + courtesan, on the contrary, is a dish by Careme, with its condiments, + spices, and elegant arrangement. The Baroness could not—did not know + how to serve up her fair bosom in a lordly dish of lace, after the manner + of Madame Marneffe. She knew nothing of the secrets of certain attitudes. + This high-souled woman might have turned round and round a hundred times, + and she would have betrayed nothing to the keen glance of a profligate. + </p> + <p> + To be a good woman and a prude to all the world, and a courtesan to her + husband, is the gift of a woman of genius, and they are few. This is the + secret of long fidelity, inexplicable to the women who are not blessed + with the double and splendid faculty. Imagine Madame Marneffe virtuous, + and you have the Marchesa di Pescara. But such lofty and illustrious + women, beautiful as Diane de Poitiers, but virtuous, may be easily + counted. + </p> + <p> + So the scene with which this serious and terrible drama of Paris manners + opened was about to be repeated, with this singular difference—that + the calamities prophesied then by the captain of the municipal Militia had + reversed the parts. Madame Hulot was awaiting Crevel with the same + intentions as had brought him to her, smiling down at the Paris crowd from + his <i>milord</i>, three years ago. And, strangest thing of all, the + Baroness was true to herself and to her love, while preparing to yield to + the grossest infidelity, such as the storm of passion even does not + justify in the eyes of some judges. + </p> + <p> + “What can I do to become a Madame Marneffe?” she asked herself as she + heard the door-bell. + </p> + <p> + She restrained her tears, fever gave brilliancy to her face, and she meant + to be quite the courtesan, poor, noble soul. + </p> + <p> + “What the devil can that worthy Baronne Hulot want of me?” Crevel wondered + as he mounted the stairs. “She is going to discuss my quarrel with + Celestine and Victorin, no doubt; but I will not give way!” + </p> + <p> + As he went into the drawing-room, shown in by Louise, he said to himself + as he noted the bareness of the place (Crevel’s word): + </p> + <p> + “Poor woman! She lives here like some fine picture stowed in a loft by a + man who knows nothing of painting.” + </p> + <p> + Crevel, seeing Comte Popinot, the Minister of Commerce, buy pictures and + statues, wanted also to figure as a Maecenas of Paris, whose love of Art + consists in making good investments. + </p> + <p> + Adeline smiled graciously at Crevel, pointing to a chair facing her. + </p> + <p> + “Here I am, fair lady, at your command,” said Crevel. + </p> + <p> + Monsieur the Mayor, a political personage, now wore black broadcloth. His + face, at the top of this solemn suit, shone like a full moon rising above + a mass of dark clouds. His shirt, buttoned with three large pearls worth + five hundred francs apiece, gave a great idea of his thoracic capacity, + and he was apt to say, “In me you see the coming athlete of the tribune!” + His enormous vulgar hands were encased in yellow gloves even in the + morning; his patent leather boots spoke of the chocolate-colored coupe + with one horse in which he drove. + </p> + <p> + In the course of three years ambition had altered Crevel’s pretensions. + Like all great artists, he had come to his second manner. In the great + world, when he went to the Prince de Wissembourg’s, to the Prefecture, to + Comte Popinot’s, and the like, he held his hat in his hand in an airy + manner taught him by Valerie, and he inserted the thumb of the other hand + in the armhole of his waistcoat with a knowing air, and a simpering face + and expression. This new grace of attitude was due to the satirical + inventiveness of Valerie, who, under pretence of rejuvenating her mayor, + had given him an added touch of the ridiculous. + </p> + <p> + “I begged you to come, my dear kind Monsieur Crevel,” said the Baroness in + a husky voice, “on a matter of the greatest importance—” + </p> + <p> + “I can guess what it is, madame,” said Crevel, with a knowing air, “but + what you would ask is impossible.—Oh, I am not a brutal father, a + man—to use Napoleon’s words—set hard and fast on sheer + avarice. Listen to me, fair lady. If my children were ruining themselves + for their own benefit, I would help them out of the scrape; but as for + backing your husband, madame? It is like trying to fill the vat of the + Danaides! Their house is mortgaged for three hundred thousand francs for + an incorrigible father! Why, they have nothing left, poor wretches! And + they have no fun for their money. All they have to live upon is what + Victorin may make in Court. He must wag his tongue more, must monsieur + your son! And he was to have been a Minister, that learned youth! Our hope + and pride. A pretty pilot, who runs aground like a land-lubber; for if he + had borrowed to enable him to get on, if he had run into debt for feasting + Deputies, winning votes, and increasing his influence, I should be the + first to say, ‘Here is my purse—dip your hand in, my friend!’ But + when it comes of paying for papa’s folly—folly I warned you of!—Ah! + his father has deprived him of every chance of power.—It is I who + shall be Minister!” + </p> + <p> + “Alas, my dear Crevel, it has nothing to do with the children, poor + devoted souls!—If your heart is closed to Victorin and Celestine, I + shall love them so much that perhaps I may soften the bitterness of their + souls caused by your anger. You are punishing your children for a good + action!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, for a good action badly done! That is half a crime,” said Crevel, + much pleased with his epigram. + </p> + <p> + “Doing good, my dear Crevel, does not mean sparing money out of a purse + that is bursting with it; it means enduring privations to be generous, + suffering for liberality! It is being prepared for ingratitude! Heaven + does not see the charity that costs us nothing—” + </p> + <p> + “Saints, madame, may if they please go to the workhouse; they know that it + is for them the door of heaven. For my part, I am worldly-minded; I fear + God, but yet more I fear the hell of poverty. To be destitute is the last + depth of misfortune in society as now constituted. I am a man of my time; + I respect money.” + </p> + <p> + “And you are right,” said Adeline, “from the worldly point of view.” + </p> + <p> + She was a thousand miles from her point, and she felt herself on a + gridiron, like Saint Laurence, as she thought of her uncle, for she could + see him blowing his brains out. + </p> + <p> + She looked down; then she raised her eyes to gaze at Crevel with angelic + sweetness—not with the inviting suggestiveness which was part of + Valerie’s wit. Three years ago she could have bewitched Crevel by that + beautiful look. + </p> + <p> + “I have known the time,” said she, “when you were more generous—you + used to talk of three hundred thousand francs like a grand gentleman—” + </p> + <p> + Crevel looked at Madame Hulot; he beheld her like a lily in the last of + its bloom, vague sensations rose within him, but he felt such respect for + this saintly creature that he spurned all suspicions and buried them in + the most profligate corner of his heart. + </p> + <p> + “I, madame, am still the same; but a retired merchant, if he is a grand + gentleman, plays, and must play, the part with method and economy; he + carries his ideas of order into everything. He opens an account for his + little amusements, and devotes certain profits to that head of + expenditure; but as to touching his capital! it would be folly. My + children will have their fortune intact, mine and my wife’s; but I do not + suppose that they wish their father to be dull, a monk and a mummy! My + life is a very jolly one; I float gaily down the stream. I fulfil all the + duties imposed on me by law, by my affections, and by family ties, just as + I always used to be punctual in paying my bills when they fell due. If + only my children conduct themselves in their domestic life as I do, I + shall be satisfied; and for the present, so long as my follies—for I + have committed follies—are no loss to any one but the gulls—excuse + me, you do not perhaps understand the slang word—they will have + nothing to blame me for, and will find a tidy little sum still left when I + die. Your children cannot say as much of their father, who is ruining his + son and my daughter by his pranks—” + </p> + <p> + The Baroness was getting further from her object as he went on. + </p> + <p> + “You are very unkind about my husband, my dear Crevel—and yet, if + you had found his wife obliging, you would have been his best friend——” + </p> + <p> + She shot a burning glance at Crevel; but, like Dubois, who gave the Regent + three kicks, she affected too much, and the rakish perfumer’s thoughts + jumped at such profligate suggestions, that he said to himself, “Does she + want to turn the tables on Hulot?—Does she think me more attractive + as a Mayor than as a National Guardsman? Women are strange creatures!” + </p> + <p> + And he assumed the position of his second manner, looking at the Baroness + with his <i>Regency</i> leer. + </p> + <p> + “I could almost fancy,” she went on, “that you want to visit on him your + resentment against the virtue that resisted you—in a woman whom you + loved well enough—to—to buy her,” she added in a low voice. + </p> + <p> + “In a divine woman,” Crevel replied, with a meaning smile at the Baroness, + who looked down while tears rose to her eyes. “For you have swallowed not + a few bitter pills!—in these three years—hey, my beauty?” + </p> + <p> + “Do not talk of my troubles, dear Crevel; they are too much for the + endurance of a mere human being. Ah! if you still love me, you may drag me + out of the pit in which I lie. Yes, I am in hell torment! The regicides + who were racked and nipped and torn into quarters by four horses were on + roses compared with me, for their bodies only were dismembered, and my + heart is torn in quarters——” + </p> + <p> + Crevel’s thumb moved from his armhole, he placed his hand on the + work-table, he abandoned his attitude, he smiled! The smile was so vacuous + that it misled the Baroness; she took it for an expression of kindness. + </p> + <p> + “You see a woman, not indeed in despair, but with her honor at the point + of death, and prepared for everything, my dear friend, to hinder a crime.” + </p> + <p> + Fearing that Hortense might come in, she bolted the door; then with equal + impetuosity she fell at Crevel’s feet, took his hand and kissed it. + </p> + <p> + “Be my deliverer!” she cried. + </p> + <p> + She thought there was some generous fibre in this mercantile soul, and + full of sudden hope that she might get the two hundred thousand francs + without degrading herself: + </p> + <p> + “Buy a soul—you were once ready to buy virtue!” she went on, with a + frenzied gaze. “Trust to my honesty as a woman, to my honor, of which you + know the worth! Be my friend! Save a whole family from ruin, shame, + despair; keep it from falling into a bog where the quicksands are mingled + with blood! Oh! ask for no explanations,” she exclaimed, at a movement on + Crevel’s part, who was about to speak. “Above all, do not say to me, ‘I + told you so!’ like a friend who is glad at a misfortune. Come now, yield + to her whom you used to love, to the woman whose humiliation at your feet + is perhaps the crowning moment of her glory; ask nothing of her, expect + what you will from her gratitude!—No, no. Give me nothing, but lend—lend + to me whom you used to call Adeline——” + </p> + <p> + At this point her tears flowed so fast, Adeline was sobbing so + passionately, that Crevel’s gloves were wet. The words, “I need two + hundred thousand francs,” were scarcely articulate in the torrent of + weeping, as stones, however large, are invisible in Alpine cataracts + swollen by the melting of the snows. + </p> + <p> + This is the inexperience of virtue. Vice asks for nothing, as we have seen + in Madame Marneffe; it gets everything offered to it. Women of that stamp + are never exacting till they have made themselves indispensable, or when a + man has to be worked as a quarry is worked where the lime is rather scarce—going + to ruin, as the quarry-men say. + </p> + <p> + On hearing these words, “Two hundred thousand francs,” Crevel understood + all. He cheerfully raised the Baroness, saying insolently: + </p> + <p> + “Come, come, bear up, mother,” which Adeline, in her distraction, failed + to hear. The scene was changing its character. Crevel was becoming “master + of the situation,” to use his own words. The vastness of the sum startled + Crevel so greatly that his emotion at seeing this handsome woman in tears + at his feet was forgotten. Besides, however angelical and saintly a woman + may be, when she is crying bitterly her beauty disappears. A Madame + Marneffe, as has been seen, whimpers now and then, a tear trickles down + her cheek; but as to melting into tears and making her eyes and nose red!—never + would she commit such a blunder. + </p> + <p> + “Come, child, compose yourself.—Deuce take it!” Crevel went on, + taking Madame Hulot’s hands in his own and patting them. “Why do you apply + to me for two hundred thousand francs? What do you want with them? Whom + are they for?” + </p> + <p> + “Do not,” said she, “insist on any explanations. Give me the money!—You + will save three lives and the honor of our children.” + </p> + <p> + “And do you suppose, my good mother, that in all Paris you will find a man + who at a word from a half-crazy woman will go off <i>hic et nunc</i>, and + bring out of some drawer, Heaven knows where, two hundred thousand francs + that have been lying simmering there till she is pleased to scoop them up? + Is that all you know of life and of business, my beauty? Your folks are in + a bad way; you may send them the last sacraments; for no one in Paris but + her Divine Highness Madame la Banque, or the great Nucingen, or some + miserable miser who is in love with gold as we other folks are with a + woman, could produce such a miracle! The civil list, civil as it may be, + would beg you to call again tomorrow. Every one invests his money, and + turns it over to the best of his powers. + </p> + <p> + “You are quite mistaken, my angel, if you suppose that King Louis-Philippe + rules us; he himself knows better than that. He knows as well as we do + that supreme above the Charter reigns the holy, venerated, substantial, + delightful, obliging, beautiful, noble, ever-youthful, and all-powerful + five-franc piece! But money, my beauty, insists on interest, and is always + engaged in seeking it! ‘God of the Jews, thou art supreme!’ says Racine. + The perennial parable of the golden calf, you see!—In the days of + Moses there was stock-jobbing in the desert! + </p> + <p> + “We have reverted to Biblical traditions; the Golden Calf was the first + State ledger,” he went on. “You, my Adeline, have not gone beyond the Rue + Plumet. The Egyptians had lent enormous sums to the Hebrews, and what they + ran after was not God’s people, but their capital.” + </p> + <p> + He looked at the Baroness with an expression which said, “How clever I + am!” + </p> + <p> + “You know nothing of the devotion of every city man to his sacred hoard!” + he went on, after a pause. “Excuse me. Listen to me. Get this well into + your head.—You want two hundred thousand francs? No one can produce + the sum without selling some security. Now consider! To have two hundred + thousand francs in hard cash it would be needful to sell about seven + hundred thousand francs’ worth of stock at three per cent. Well; and then + you would only get the money on the third day. That is the quickest way. + To persuade a man to part with a fortune—for two hundred thousand + francs is the whole fortune of many a man—he ought at least to know + where it is all going to, and for what purpose—” + </p> + <p> + “It is going, my dear kind Crevel, to save the lives of two men, one of + whom will die of grief and the other will kill himself! And to save me too + from going mad! Am I not a little mad already?” + </p> + <p> + “Not so mad!” said he, taking Madame Hulot round the knees; “old Crevel + has his price, since you thought of applying to him, my angel.” + </p> + <p> + “They submit to have a man’s arms round their knees, it would seem!” + thought the saintly woman, covering her face with her hands. + </p> + <p> + “Once you offered me a fortune!” said she, turning red. + </p> + <p> + “Ay, mother! but that was three years ago!” replied Crevel. “Well, you are + handsomer now than ever I saw you!” he went on, taking the Baroness’ arm + and pressing it to his heart. “You have a good memory, my dear, by Jove!—And + now you see how wrong you were to be so prudish, for those three hundred + thousand francs that you refused so magnanimously are in another woman’s + pocket. I loved you then, I love you still; but just look back these three + years. + </p> + <p> + “When I said to you, ‘You shall be mine,’ what object had I in view? I + meant to be revenged on that rascal Hulot. But your husband, my beauty, + found himself a mistress—a jewel of a woman, a pearl, a cunning + hussy then aged three-and-twenty, for she is six-and-twenty now. It struck + me as more amusing, more complete, more Louis XV., more Marechal de + Richelieu, more first-class altogether, to filch away that charmer, who, + in point of fact, never cared for Hulot, and who for these three years has + been madly in love with your humble servant.” + </p> + <p> + As he spoke, Crevel, from whose hands the Baroness had released her own, + had resumed his favorite attitude; both thumbs were stuck into his + armholes, and he was patting his ribs with his fingers, like two flapping + wings, fancying that he was thus making himself very attractive and + charming. It was as much as to say, “And this is the man you would have + nothing to say to!” + </p> + <p> + “There you are my dear; I had my revenge, and your husband knows it. I + proved to him clearly that he was basketed—just where he was before, + as we say. Madame Marneffe is my mistress, and when her precious Marneffe + kicks the bucket, she will be my wife.” + </p> + <p> + Madame Hulot stared at Crevel with a fixed and almost dazed look. + </p> + <p> + “Hector knew it?” she said. + </p> + <p> + “And went back to her,” replied Crevel. “And I allowed it, because Valerie + wished to be the wife of a head-clerk; but she promised me that she would + manage things so that our Baron should be so effectually bowled over that + he can never interfere any more. And my little duchess—for that + woman is a born duchess, on my soul!—kept her word. She restores you + your Hector, madame, virtuous in perpetuity, as she says—she is so + witty! He has had a good lesson, I can tell you! The Baron has had some + hard knocks; he will help no more actresses or fine ladies; he is + radically cured; cleaned out like a beer-glass. + </p> + <p> + “If you had listened to Crevel in the first instance, instead of scorning + him and turning him out of the house, you might have had four hundred + thousand francs, for my revenge has cost me all of that.—But I shall + get my change back, I hope, when Marneffe dies—I have invested in a + wife, you see; that is the secret of my extravagance. I have solved the + problem of playing the lord on easy terms.” + </p> + <p> + “Would you give your daughter such a mother-in-law? cried Madame Hulot. + </p> + <p> + “You do not know Valerie, madame,” replied Crevel gravely, striking the + attitude of his first manner. “She is a woman with good blood in her + veins, a lady, and a woman who enjoys the highest consideration. Why, only + yesterday the vicar of the parish was dining with her. She is pious, and + we have presented a splendid monstrance to the church. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! she is clever, she is witty, she is delightful, well informed—she + has everything in her favor. For my part, my dear Adeline, I owe + everything to that charming woman; she has opened my mind, polished my + speech, as you may have noticed; she corrects my impetuosity, and gives me + words and ideas. I never say anything now that I ought not. I have greatly + improved; you must have noticed it. And then she has encouraged my + ambition. I shall be a Deputy; and I shall make no blunders, for I shall + consult my Egeria. Every great politician, from Numa to our present Prime + Minister, has had his Sibyl of the fountain. A score of deputies visit + Valerie; she is acquiring considerable influence; and now that she is + about to be established in a charming house, with a carriage, she will be + one of the occult rulers of Paris. + </p> + <p> + “A fine locomotive! That is what such a woman is. Oh, I have blessed you + many a time for your stern virtue.” + </p> + <p> + “It is enough to make one doubt the goodness of God!” cried Adeline, whose + indignation had dried her tears. “But, no! Divine justice must be hanging + over her head.” + </p> + <p> + “You know nothing of the world, my beauty,” said the great politician, + deeply offended. “The world, my Adeline, loves success! Say, now, has it + come to seek out your sublime virtue, priced at two hundred thousand + francs?” + </p> + <p> + The words made Madame Hulot shudder; the nervous trembling attacked her + once more. She saw that the ex-perfumer was taking a mean revenge on her + as he had on Hulot; she felt sick with disgust, and a spasm rose to her + throat, hindering speech. + </p> + <p> + “Money!” she said at last. “Always money!” + </p> + <p> + “You touched me deeply,” said Crevel, reminded by these words of the + woman’s humiliation, “when I beheld you there, weeping at my feet!—You + perhaps will not believe me, but if I had my pocket-book about me, it + would have been yours.—Come, do you really want such a sum?” + </p> + <p> + As she heard this question, big with two hundred thousand francs, Adeline + forgot the odious insults heaped on her by this cheap-jack fine gentleman, + before the tempting picture of success described by Machiavelli-Crevel, + who only wanted to find out her secrets and laugh over them with Valerie. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! I will do anything, everything,” cried the unhappy woman. “Monsieur, + I will sell myself—I will be a Valerie, if I must.” + </p> + <p> + “You will find that difficult,” replied Crevel. “Valerie is a masterpiece + in her way. My good mother, twenty-five years of virtue are always + repellent, like a badly treated disease. And your virtue has grown very + mouldy, my dear child. But you shall see how much I love you. I will + manage to get you your two hundred thousand francs.” + </p> + <p> + Adeline, incapable of uttering a word, seized his hand and laid it on her + heart; a tear of joy trembled in her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! don’t be in a hurry; there will be some hard pulling. I am a jolly + good fellow, a good soul with no prejudices, and I will put things plainly + to you. You want to do as Valerie does—very good. But that is not + all; you must have a gull, a stockholder, a Hulot.—Well, I know a + retired tradesman—in fact, a hosier. He is heavy, dull, has not an + idea, I am licking him into shape, but I don’t know when he will do me + credit. My man is a deputy, stupid and conceited; the tyranny of a + turbaned wife, in the depths of the country, has preserved him in a state + of utter virginity as to the luxury and pleasures of Paris life. But + Beauvisage—his name is Beauvisage—is a millionaire, and, like + me, my dear, three years ago, he will give a hundred thousand crowns to be + the lover of a real lady.—Yes, you see,” he went on, + misunderstanding a gesture on Adeline’s part, “he is jealous of me, you + understand; jealous of my happiness with Madame Marneffe, and he is a + fellow quite capable of selling an estate to purchase a—” + </p> + <p> + “Enough, Monsieur Crevel!” said Madame Hulot, no longer controlling her + disgust, and showing all her shame in her face. “I am punished beyond my + deserts. My conscience, so sternly repressed by the iron hand of + necessity, tells me, at this final insult, that such sacrifices are + impossible.—My pride is gone; I do not say now, as I did the first + time, ‘Go!’ after receiving this mortal thrust. I have lost the right to + do so. I have flung myself before you like a prostitute. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she went on, in reply to a negative on Crevel’s part, “I have + fouled my life, till now so pure, by a degrading thought; and I am + inexcusable!—I know it!—I deserve every insult you can offer + me! God’s will be done! If, indeed, He desires the death of two creatures + worthy to appear before Him, they must die! I shall mourn them, and pray + for them! If it is His will that my family should be humbled to the dust, + we must bow to His avenging sword, nay, and kiss it, since we are + Christians.—I know how to expiate this disgrace, which will be the + torment of all my remaining days. + </p> + <p> + “I who speak to you, monsieur, am not Madame Hulot, but a wretched, humble + sinner, a Christian whose heart henceforth will know but one feeling, and + that is repentance, all my time given up to prayer and charity. With such + a sin on my soul, I am the last of women, the first only of penitents.—You + have been the means of bringing me to a right mind; I can hear the Voice + of God speaking within me, and I can thank you!” + </p> + <p> + She was shaking with the nervous trembling which from that hour never left + her. Her low, sweet tones were quite unlike the fevered accents of the + woman who was ready for dishonor to save her family. The blood faded from + her cheeks, her face was colorless, and her eyes were dry. + </p> + <p> + “And I played my part very badly, did I not?” she went on, looking at + Crevel with the sweetness that martyrs must have shown in their eyes as + they looked up at the Proconsul. “True love, the sacred love of a devoted + woman, gives other pleasures, no doubt, than those that are bought in the + open market!—But why so many words?” said she, suddenly bethinking + herself, and advancing a step further in the way to perfection. “They + sound like irony, but I am not ironical! Forgive me. Besides, monsieur, I + did not want to hurt any one but myself—” + </p> + <p> + The dignity of virtue and its holy flame had expelled the transient + impurity of the woman who, splendid in her own peculiar beauty, looked + taller in Crevel’s eyes. Adeline had, at this moment, the majesty of the + figures of Religion clinging to the Cross, as painted by the old + Venetians; but she expressed, too, the immensity of her love and the + grandeur of the Catholic Church, to which she flew like a wounded dove. + </p> + <p> + Crevel was dazzled, astounded. + </p> + <p> + “Madame, I am your slave, without conditions,” said he, in an inspiration + of generosity. “We will look into this matter—and—whatever you + want—the impossible even—I will do. I will pledge my + securities at the Bank, and in two hours you shall have the money.” + </p> + <p> + “Good God! a miracle!” said poor Adeline, falling on her knees. + </p> + <p> + She prayed to Heaven with such fervor as touched Crevel deeply; Madame + Hulot saw that he had tears in his eyes when, having ended her prayer, she + rose to her feet. + </p> + <p> + “Be a friend to me, monsieur,” said she. “Your heart is better than your + words and conduct. God gave you your soul; your passions and the world + have given you your ideas. Oh, I will love you truly,” she exclaimed, with + an angelic tenderness in strange contrast with her attempts at coquettish + trickery. + </p> + <p> + “But cease to tremble so,” said Crevel. + </p> + <p> + “Am I trembling?” said the Baroness, unconscious of the infirmity that had + so suddenly come upon her. + </p> + <p> + “Yes; why, look,” said Crevel, taking Adeline by the arm and showing her + that she was shaking with nervousness. “Come, madame,” he added + respectfully, “compose yourself; I am going to the Bank at once.” + </p> + <p> + “And come back quickly! Remember,” she added, betraying all her secrets, + “that the first point is to prevent the suicide of our poor Uncle Fischer + involved by my husband—for I trust you now, and I am telling you + everything. Oh, if we should not be on time, I know my brother-in-law, the + Marshal, and he has such a delicate soul, that he would die of it in a few + days.” + </p> + <p> + “I am off, then,” said Crevel, kissing the Baroness’ hand. “But what has + that unhappy Hulot done?” + </p> + <p> + “He has swindled the Government.” + </p> + <p> + “Good Heavens! I fly, madame; I understand, I admire you!” + </p> + <p> + Crevel bent one knee, kissed Madame Hulot’s skirt, and vanished, saying, + “You will see me soon.” + </p> + <p> + Unluckily, on his way from the Rue Plumet to his own house, to fetch the + securities, Crevel went along the Rue Vanneau, and he could not resist + going in to see his little Duchess. His face still bore an agitated + expression. + </p> + <p> + He went straight into Valerie’s room, who was having her hair dressed. She + looked at Crevel in her glass, and, like every woman of that sort, was + annoyed, before she knew anything about it, to see that he was moved by + some strong feeling of which she was not the cause. + </p> + <p> + “What is the matter, my dear?” said she. “Is that a face to bring in to + your little Duchess? I will not be your Duchess any more, monsieur, no + more than I will be your ‘little duck,’ you old monster.” + </p> + <p> + Crevel replied by a melancholy smile and a glance at the maid. + </p> + <p> + “Reine, child, that will do for to-day; I can finish my hair myself. Give + me my Chinese wrapper; my gentleman seems to me out of sorts.” + </p> + <p> + Reine, whose face was pitted like a colander, and who seemed to have been + made on purpose to wait on Valerie, smiled meaningly in reply, and brought + the dressing-gown. Valerie took off her combing-wrapper; she was in her + shift, and she wriggled into the dressing-gown like a snake into a clump + of grass. + </p> + <p> + “Madame is not at home?” + </p> + <p> + “What a question!” said Valerie.—“Come, tell me, my big puss, have + <i>Rives Gauches</i> gone down?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “They have raised the price of the house?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “You fancy that you are not the father of our little Crevel?” + </p> + <p> + “What nonsense!” replied he, sure of his paternity. + </p> + <p> + “On my honor, I give it up!” said Madame Marneffe. “If I am expected to + extract my friend’s woes as you pull the cork out of a bottle of Bordeaux, + I let it alone.—Go away, you bore me.” + </p> + <p> + “It is nothing,” said Crevel. “I must find two hundred thousand francs in + two hours.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you can easily get them.—I have not spent the fifty thousand + francs we got out of Hulot for that report, and I can ask Henri for fifty + thousand—” + </p> + <p> + “Henri—it is always Henri!” exclaimed Crevel. + </p> + <p> + “And do you suppose, you great baby of a Machiavelli, that I will cast off + Henri? Would France disarm her fleet?—Henri! why, he is a dagger in + a sheath hanging on a nail. That boy serves as a weather-glass to show me + if you love me—and you don’t love me this morning.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t love you, Valerie?” cried Crevel. “I love you as much as a + million.” + </p> + <p> + “That is not nearly enough!” cried she, jumping on to Crevel’s knee, and + throwing both arms round his neck as if it were a peg to hang on by. “I + want to be loved as much as ten millions, as much as all the gold in the + world, and more to that. Henri would never wait a minute before telling me + all he had on his mind. What is it, my great pet? Have it out. Make a + clean breast of it to your own little duck!” + </p> + <p> + And she swept her hair over Crevel’s face, while she jestingly pulled his + nose. + </p> + <p> + “Can a man with a nose like that,” she went on, “have any secrets from his + <i>Vava—lele—ririe</i>?” + </p> + <p> + And at the <i>Vava</i> she tweaked his nose to the right; at <i>lele</i> + it went to the left; at <i>ririe</i> she nipped it straight again. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I have just seen—” Crevel stopped and looked at Madame + Marneffe. + </p> + <p> + “Valerie, my treasure, promise me on your honor—ours, you know?—not + to repeat a single word of what I tell you.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course, Mayor, we know all about that. One hand up—so—and + one foot—so!” And she put herself in an attitude which, to use + Rabelais’ phrase, stripped Crevel bare from his brain to his heels, so + quaint and delicious was the nudity revealed through the light film of + lawn. + </p> + <p> + “I have just seen virtue in despair.” + </p> + <p> + “Can despair possess virtue?” said she, nodding gravely and crossing her + arms like Napoleon. + </p> + <p> + “It is poor Madame Hulot. She wants two hundred thousand francs, or else + Marshal Hulot and old Johann Fischer will blow their brains out; and as + you, my little Duchess, are partly at the bottom of the mischief, I am + going to patch matters up. She is a saintly creature, I know her well; she + will repay you every penny.” + </p> + <p> + At the name of Hulot, at the words two hundred thousand francs, a gleam + from Valerie’s eyes flashed from between her long eyelids like the flame + of a cannon through the smoke. + </p> + <p> + “What did the old thing do to move you to compassion? Did she show you—what?—her—her + religion?” + </p> + <p> + “Do not make game of her, sweetheart; she is a very saintly, a very noble + and pious woman, worthy of all respect.” + </p> + <p> + “Am I not worthy of respect then, heh?” answered Valerie, with a + threatening gaze at Crevel. + </p> + <p> + “I never said so,” replied he, understanding that the praise of virtue + might not be gratifying to Madame Marneffe. + </p> + <p> + “I am pious too,” Valerie went on, taking her seat in an armchair; “but I + do not make a trade of my religion. I go to church in secret.” + </p> + <p> + She sat in silence, and paid no further heed to Crevel. He, extremely ill + at ease, came to stand in front of the chair into which Valerie had thrown + herself, and saw her lost in the reflections he had been so foolish as to + suggest. + </p> + <p> + “Valerie, my little Angel!” + </p> + <p> + Utter silence. A highly problematical tear was furtively dashed away. + </p> + <p> + “One word, my little duck?” + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur!” + </p> + <p> + “What are you thinking of, my darling?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Monsieur Crevel, I was thinking of the day of my first communion! How + pretty I was! How pure, how saintly!—immaculate!—Oh! if any + one had come to my mother and said, ‘Your daughter will be a hussy, and + unfaithful to her husband; one day a police-officer will find her in a + disreputable house; she will sell herself to a Crevel to cheat a Hulot—two + horrible old men—’ Poof! horrible—she would have died before + the end of the sentence, she was so fond of me, poor dear!—” + </p> + <p> + “Nay, be calm.” + </p> + <p> + “You cannot think how well a woman must love a man before she can silence + the remorse that gnaws at the heart of an adulterous wife. I am quite + sorry that Reine is not here; she would have told you that she found me + this morning praying with tears in my eyes. I, Monsieur Crevel, for my + part, do not make a mockery of religion. Have you ever heard me say a word + I ought not on such a subject?” + </p> + <p> + Crevel shook his head in negation. + </p> + <p> + “I will never allow it to be mentioned in my presence. I can make fun of + anything under the sun: Kings, politics, finance, everything that is + sacred in the eyes of the world—judges, matrimony, and love—old + men and maidens. But the Church and God!—There I draw the line.—I + know I am wicked; I am sacrificing my future life to you. And you have no + conception of the immensity of my love.” + </p> + <p> + Crevel clasped his hands. + </p> + <p> + “No, unless you could see into my heart, and fathom the depth of my + conviction so as to know the extent of my sacrifice! I feel in me the + making of a Magdalen.—And see how respectfully I treat the priests; + think of the gifts I make to the Church! My mother brought me up in the + Catholic Faith, and I know what is meant by God! It is to sinners like us + that His voice is most awful.” + </p> + <p> + Valerie wiped away two tears that trickled down her cheeks. Crevel was in + dismay. Madame Marneffe stood up in her excitement. + </p> + <p> + “Be calm, my darling—you alarm me!” + </p> + <p> + Madame Marneffe fell on her knees. + </p> + <p> + “Dear Heaven! I am not bad all through!” she cried, clasping her hands. + “Vouchsafe to rescue Thy wandering lamb, strike her, crush her, snatch her + from foul and adulterous hands, and how gladly she will nestle on Thy + shoulder! How willingly she will return to the fold!” + </p> + <p> + She got up and looked at Crevel; her colorless eyes frightened him. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Crevel, and, do you know? I, too, am frightened sometimes. The + justice of God is exerted in this nether world as well as in the next. + What mercy can I expect at God’s hands? His vengeance overtakes the guilty + in many ways; it assumes every aspect of disaster. That is what my mother + told me on her death-bed, speaking of her own old age.—But if I + should lose you,” she added, hugging Crevel with a sort of savage frenzy—“oh! + I should die!” + </p> + <p> + Madame Marneffe released Crevel, knelt down again at the armchair, folded + her hands—and in what a bewitching attitude!—and with + incredible fervor poured out the following prayer:— + </p> + <p> + “And thou, Saint Valerie, my patron saint, why dost thou so rarely visit + the pillow of her who was intrusted to thy care? Oh, come this evening, as + thou didst this morning, to inspire me with holy thoughts, and I will quit + the path of sin; like the Magdalen, I will give up deluding joys and the + false glitter of the world, even the man I love so well—” + </p> + <p> + “My precious duck!” + </p> + <p> + “No more of the ‘precious duck,’ monsieur!” said she, turning round like a + virtuous wife, her eyes full of tears, but dignified, cold, and + indifferent. + </p> + <p> + “Leave me,” she went on, pushing him from her. “What is my duty? To belong + wholly to my husband.—He is a dying man, and what am I doing? + Deceiving him on the edge of the grave. He believes your child to be his. + I will tell him the truth, and begin by securing his pardon before I ask + for God’s.—We must part. Good-bye, Monsieur Crevel,” and she stood + up to offer him an icy cold hand. “Good-bye, my friend; we shall meet no + more till we meet in a better world.—You have to thank me for some + enjoyment, criminal indeed; now I want—oh yes, I shall have your + esteem.” + </p> + <p> + Crevel was weeping bitter tears. + </p> + <p> + “You great pumpkin!” she exclaimed, with an infernal peal of laughter. + “That is how your pious women go about it to drag from you a plum of two + hundred thousand francs. And you, who talk of the Marechal de Richelieu, + the prototype of Lovelace, you could be taken in by such a stale trick as + that! I could get hundreds of thousands of francs out of you any day, if I + chose, you old ninny!—Keep your money! If you have more than you + know what to do with, it is mine. If you give two sous to that + ‘respectable’ woman, who is pious forsooth, because she is fifty-six years + of age, we shall never meet again, and you may take her for your mistress! + You could come back to me next day bruised all over from her bony caresses + and sodden with her tears, and sick of her little barmaid’s caps and her + whimpering, which must turn her favors into showers—” + </p> + <p> + “In point of fact,” said Crevel, “two hundred thousand francs is a round + sum of money.” + </p> + <p> + “They have fine appetites, have the goody sort! By the poker! they sell + their sermons dearer than we sell the rarest and realest thing on earth—pleasure.—And + they can spin a yarn! There, I know them. I have seen plenty in my + mother’s house. They think everything is allowable for the Church and for—Really, + my dear love, you ought to be ashamed of yourself—for you are not so + open-handed! You have not given me two hundred thousand francs all told!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh yes,” said Crevel, “your little house will cost as much as that.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you have four hundred thousand francs?” said she thoughtfully. + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “Then, sir, you meant to lend that old horror the two hundred thousand + francs due for my hotel? What a crime, what high treason!” + </p> + <p> + “Only listen to me.” + </p> + <p> + “If you were giving the money to some idiotic philanthropic scheme, you + would be regarded as a coming man,” she went on, with increasing + eagerness, “and I should be the first to advise it; for you are too simple + to write a big political book that might make you famous; as for style, + you have not enough to butter a pamphlet; but you might do as other men do + who are in your predicament, and who get a halo of glory about their name + by putting it at the top of some social, or moral, or general, or national + enterprise. Benevolence is out of date, quite vulgar. Providing for old + offenders, and making them more comfortable than the poor devils who are + honest, is played out. What I should like to see is some invention of your + own with an endowment of two hundred thousand francs—something + difficult and really useful. Then you would be talked about as a man of + mark, a Montyon, and I should be very proud of you! + </p> + <p> + “But as to throwing two hundred thousand francs into a holy-water shell, + or lending them to a bigot—cast off by her husband, and who knows + why? there is always some reason: does any one cast me off, I ask you?—is + a piece of idiocy which in our days could only come into the head of a + retired perfumer. It reeks of the counter. You would not dare look at + yourself in the glass two days after. + </p> + <p> + “Go and pay the money in where it will be safe—run, fly; I will not + admit you again without the receipt in your hand. Go, as fast and soon as + you can!” + </p> + <p> + She pushed Crevel out of the room by the shoulders, seeing avarice + blossoming in his face once more. When she heard the outer door shut, she + exclaimed: + </p> + <p> + “Then Lisbeth is revenged over and over again! What a pity that she is at + her old Marshal’s now! We would have had a good laugh! So that old woman + wants to take the bread out of my mouth. I will startle her a little!” + </p> + <p> + Marshal Hulot, being obliged to live in a style suited to the highest + military rank, had taken a handsome house in the Rue du Mont-Parnasse, + where there are three or four princely residences. Though he rented the + whole house, he inhabited only the ground floor. When Lisbeth went to keep + house for him, she at once wished to let the first floor, which, as she + said, would pay the whole rent, so that the Count would live almost + rent-free; but the old soldier would not hear of it. + </p> + <p> + For some months past the Marshal had had many sad thoughts. He had guessed + how miserably poor his sister-in-law was, and suspected her griefs without + understanding their cause. The old man, so cheerful in his deafness, + became taciturn; he could not help thinking that his house would one day + be a refuge for the Baroness and her daughter; and it was for them that he + kept the first floor. The smallness of his fortune was so well known at + headquarters, that the War Minister, the Prince de Wissembourg, begged his + old comrade to accept a sum of money for his household expenses. This sum + the Marshal spent in furnishing the ground floor, which was in every way + suitable; for, as he said, he would not accept the Marshal’s baton to walk + the streets with. + </p> + <p> + The house had belonged to a senator under the Empire, and the ground floor + drawing-rooms had been very magnificently fitted with carved wood, + white-and-gold, still in very good preservation. The Marshal had found + some good old furniture in the same style; in the coach-house he had a + carriage with two batons in saltire on the panels; and when he was + expected to appear in full fig, at the Minister’s, at the Tuileries, for + some ceremony or high festival, he hired horses for the job. + </p> + <p> + His servant for more than thirty years was an old soldier of sixty, whose + sister was the cook, so he had saved ten thousand francs, adding it by + degrees to a little hoard he intended for Hortense. Every day the old man + walked along the boulevard, from the Rue du Mont-Parnasse to the Rue + Plumet; and every pensioner as he passed stood at attention, without fail, + to salute him: then the Marshal rewarded the veteran with a smile. + </p> + <p> + “Who is the man you always stand at attention to salute?” said a young + workman one day to an old captain and pensioner. + </p> + <p> + “I will tell you, boy,” replied the officer. + </p> + <p> + The “boy” stood resigned, as a man does to listen to an old gossip. + </p> + <p> + “In 1809,” said the captain, “we were covering the flank of the main army, + marching on Vienna under the Emperor’s command. We came to a bridge + defended by three batteries of cannon, one above another, on a sort of + cliff; three redoubts like three shelves, and commanding the bridge. We + were under Marshal Massena. That man whom you see there was Colonel of the + Grenadier Guards, and I was one of them. Our columns held one bank of the + river, the batteries were on the other. Three times they tried for the + bridge, and three times they were driven back. ‘Go and find Hulot!’ said + the Marshal; ‘nobody but he and his men can bolt that morsel.’ So we came. + The General, who was just retiring from the bridge, stopped Hulot under + fire, to tell him how to do it, and he was in the way. ‘I don’t want + advice, but room to pass,’ said our General coolly, marching across at the + head of his men. And then, rattle, thirty guns raking us at once.” + </p> + <p> + “By Heaven!” cried the workman, “that accounts for some of these + crutches!” + </p> + <p> + “And if you, like me, my boy, had heard those words so quietly spoken, you + would bow before that man down to the ground! It is not so famous as + Arcole, but perhaps it was finer. We followed Hulot at the double, right + up to those batteries. All honor to those we left there!” and the old man + lifted his hat. “The Austrians were amazed at the dash of it.—The + Emperor made the man you saw a Count; he honored us all by honoring our + leader; and the King of to-day was very right to make him a Marshal.” + </p> + <p> + “Hurrah for the Marshal!” cried the workman. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you may shout—shout away! The Marshal is as deaf as a post from + the roar of cannon.” + </p> + <p> + This anecdote may give some idea of the respect with which the <i>Invalides</i> + regarded Marshal Hulot, whose Republican proclivities secured him the + popular sympathy of the whole quarter of the town. + </p> + <p> + Sorrow taking hold on a spirit so calm and strict and noble, was a + heart-breaking spectacle. The Baroness could only tell lies, with a + woman’s ingenuity, to conceal the whole dreadful truth from her + brother-in-law. + </p> + <p> + In the course of this miserable morning, the Marshal, who, like all old + men, slept but little, had extracted from Lisbeth full particulars as to + his brother’s situation, promising to marry her as the reward of her + revelations. Any one can imagine with what glee the old maid allowed the + secrets to be dragged from her which she had been dying to tell ever since + she had come into the house; for by this means she made her marriage more + certain. + </p> + <p> + “Your brother is incorrigible!” Lisbeth shouted into the Marshal’s best + ear. + </p> + <p> + Her strong, clear tones enabled her to talk to him, but she wore out her + lungs, so anxious was she to prove to her future husband that to her he + would never be deaf. + </p> + <p> + “He has had three mistresses,” said the old man, “and his wife was an + Adeline! Poor Adeline!” + </p> + <p> + “If you will take my advice,” shrieked Lisbeth, “you will use your + influence with the Prince de Wissembourg to secure her some suitable + appointment. She will need it, for the Baron’s pay is pledged for three + years.” + </p> + <p> + “I will go to the War Office,” said he, “and see the Prince, to find out + what he thinks of my brother, and ask for his interest to help my sister. + Think of some place that is fit for her.” + </p> + <p> + “The charitable ladies of Paris, in concert with the Archbishop, have + formed various beneficent associations; they employ superintendents, very + decently paid, whose business it is to seek out cases of real want. Such + an occupation would exactly suit dear Adeline; it would be work after her + own heart.” + </p> + <p> + “Send to order the horses,” said the Marshal. “I will go and dress. I will + drive to Neuilly if necessary.” + </p> + <p> + “How fond he is of her! She will always cross my path wherever I turn!” + said Lisbeth to herself. + </p> + <p> + Lisbeth was already supreme in the house, but not with the Marshal’s + cognizance. She had struck terror into the three servants—for she + had allowed herself a housemaid, and she exerted her old-maidish energy in + taking stock of everything, examining everything, and arranging in every + respect for the comfort of her dear Marshal. Lisbeth, quite as Republican + as he could be, pleased him by her democratic opinions, and she flattered + him with amazing dexterity; for the last fortnight the old man, whose + house was better kept, and who was cared for as a child by its mother, had + begun to regard Lisbeth as a part of what he had dreamed of. + </p> + <p> + “My dear Marshal,” she shouted, following him out on to the steps, “pull + up the windows, do not sit in a draught, to oblige me!” + </p> + <p> + The Marshal, who had never been so cosseted in his life, went off smiling + at Lisbeth, though his heart was aching. + </p> + <p> + At the same hour Baron Hulot was quitting the War Office to call on his + chief, Marshal the Prince de Wissembourg, who had sent for him. Though + there was nothing extraordinary in one of the Generals on the Board being + sent for, Hulot’s conscience was so uneasy that he fancied he saw a cold + and sinister expression in Mitouflet’s face. + </p> + <p> + “Mitouflet, how is the Prince?” he asked, locking the door of his private + room and following the messenger who led the way. + </p> + <p> + “He must have a crow to pluck with you, Monsieur le Baron,” replied the + man, “for his face is set at stormy.” + </p> + <p> + Hulot turned pale, and said no more; he crossed the anteroom and reception + rooms, and, with a violently beating heart, found himself at the door of + the Prince’s private study. + </p> + <p> + The chief, at this time seventy years old, with perfectly white hair, and + the tanned complexion of a soldier of that age, commanded attention by a + brow so vast that imagination saw in it a field of battle. Under this + dome, crowned with snow, sparkled a pair of eyes, of the Napoleon blue, + usually sad-looking and full of bitter thoughts and regrets, their fire + overshadowed by the penthouse of the strongly projecting brow. This man, + Bernadotte’s rival, had hoped to find his seat on a throne. But those eyes + could flash formidable lightnings when they expressed strong feelings. + </p> + <p> + Then, his voice, always somewhat hollow, rang with strident tones. When he + was angry, the Prince was a soldier once more; he spoke the language of + Lieutenant Cottin; he spared nothing—nobody. Hulot d’Ervy found the + old lion, his hair shaggy like a mane, standing by the fireplace, his + brows knit, his back against the mantel-shelf, and his eyes apparently + fixed on vacancy. + </p> + <p> + “Here! At your orders, Prince!” said Hulot, affecting a graceful ease of + manner. + </p> + <p> + The Marshal looked hard at the Baron, without saying a word, during the + time it took him to come from the door to within a few steps of where the + chief stood. This leaden stare was like the eye of God; Hulot could not + meet it; he looked down in confusion. + </p> + <p> + “He knows everything!” said he to himself. + </p> + <p> + “Does your conscience tell you nothing?” asked the Marshal, in his deep, + hollow tones. + </p> + <p> + “It tells me, sir, that I have been wrong, no doubt, in ordering <i>razzias</i> + in Algeria without referring the matter to you. At my age, and with my + tastes, after forty-five years of service, I have no fortune.—You + know the principles of the four hundred elect representatives of France. + Those gentlemen are envious of every distinction; they have pared down + even the Ministers’ pay—that says everything! Ask them for money for + an old servant!—What can you expect of men who pay a whole class so + badly as they pay the Government legal officials?—who give thirty + sous a day to the laborers on the works at Toulon, when it is a physical + impossibility to live there and keep a family on less than forty sous?—who + never think of the atrocity of giving salaries of six hundred francs, up + to a thousand or twelve hundred perhaps, to clerks living in Paris; and + who want to secure our places for themselves as soon as the pay rises to + forty thousand?—who, finally, refuse to restore to the Crown a piece + of Crown property confiscated from the Crown in 1830—property + acquired, too, by Louis XVI. out of his privy purse!—If you had no + private fortune, Prince, you would be left high and dry, like my brother, + with your pay and not another sou, and no thought of your having saved the + army, and me with it, in the boggy plains of Poland.” + </p> + <p> + “You have robbed the State! You have made yourself liable to be brought + before the bench at Assizes,” said the Marshal, “like that clerk of the + Treasury! And you take this, monsieur, with such levity.” + </p> + <p> + “But there is a great difference, monseigneur!” cried the baron. “Have I + dipped my hands into a cash box intrusted to my care?” + </p> + <p> + “When a man of your rank commits such an infamous crime,” said the + Marshal, “he is doubly guilty if he does it clumsily. You have compromised + the honor of our official administration, which hitherto has been the + purest in Europe!—And all for two hundred thousand francs and a + hussy!” said the Marshal, in a terrible voice. “You are a Councillor of + State—and a private soldier who sells anything belonging to his + regiment is punished with death! Here is a story told to me one day by + Colonel Pourin of the Second Lancers. At Saverne, one of his men fell in + love with a little Alsatian girl who had a fancy for a shawl. The jade + teased this poor devil of a lancer so effectually, that though he could + show twenty years’ service, and was about to be promoted to be + quartermaster—the pride of the regiment—to buy this shawl he + sold some of his company’s kit.—Do you know what this lancer did, + Baron d’Ervy? He swallowed some window-glass after pounding it down, and + died in eleven hours, of an illness, in hospital.—Try, if you + please, to die of apoplexy, that we may not see you dishonored.” + </p> + <p> + Hulot looked with haggard eyes at the old warrior; and the Prince, reading + the look which betrayed the coward, felt a flush rise to his cheeks; his + eyes flamed. + </p> + <p> + “Will you, sir, abandon me?” Hulot stammered. + </p> + <p> + Marshal Hulot, hearing that only his brother was with the Minister, + ventured at this juncture to come in, and, like all deaf people, went + straight up to the Prince. + </p> + <p> + “Oh,” cried the hero of Poland, “I know what you are here for, my old + friend! But we can do nothing.” + </p> + <p> + “Do nothing!” echoed Marshal Hulot, who had heard only the last word. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing; you have come to intercede for your brother. But do you know + what your brother is?” + </p> + <p> + “My brother?” asked the deaf man. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, he is a damned infernal blackguard, and unworthy of you.” + </p> + <p> + The Marshal in his rage shot from his eyes those fulminating fires which, + like Napoleon’s, broke a man’s will and judgment. + </p> + <p> + “You lie, Cottin!” said Marshal Hulot, turning white. “Throw down your + baton as I throw mine! I am ready.” + </p> + <p> + The Prince went up to his old comrade, looked him in the face, and shouted + in his ear as he grasped his hand: + </p> + <p> + “Are you a man?” + </p> + <p> + “You will see that I am.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, pull yourself together! You must face the worst misfortune + that can befall you.” + </p> + <p> + The Prince turned round, took some papers from the table, and placed them + in the Marshal’s hands, saying, “Read that.” + </p> + <p> + The Comte de Forzheim read the following letter, which lay uppermost:— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “To his Excellency the President of the Council. +</pre> + <p> + “<i>Private and Confidential</i>. + </p> + <h3> + “ALGIERS. + </h3> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “MY DEAR PRINCE,—We have a very ugly business on our hands, as + you will see by the accompanying documents. + + “The story, briefly told, is this: Baron Hulot d’Ervy sent out to + the province of Oran an uncle of his as a broker in grain and + forage, and gave him an accomplice in the person of a storekeeper. + This storekeeper, to curry favor, has made a confession, and + finally made his escape. The Public Prosecutor took the matter up + very thoroughly, seeing, as he supposed, that only two inferior + agents were implicated; but Johann Fischer, uncle to your Chief of + the Commissariat Department, finding that he was to be brought up + at the Assizes, stabbed himself in prison with a nail. + + “That would have been the end of the matter if this worthy and + honest man, deceived, it would seem, by his agent and by his + nephew, had not thought proper to write to Baron Hulot. This + letter, seized as a document, so greatly surprised the Public + Prosecutor, that he came to see me. Now, the arrest and public + trial of a Councillor of State would be such a terrible thing—of + a man high in office too, who has a good record for loyal service + —for after the Beresina, it was he who saved us all by + reorganizing the administration—that I desired to have all the + papers sent to me. + + “Is the matter to take its course? Now that the principal agent is + dead, will it not be better to smother up the affair and sentence + the storekeeper in default? + + “The Public Prosecutor has consented to my forwarding the + documents for your perusal; the Baron Hulot d’Ervy, being resident + in Paris, the proceedings will lie with your Supreme Court. We + have hit on this rather shabby way of ridding ourselves of the + difficulty for the moment. + + “Only, my dear Marshal, decide quickly. This miserable business is + too much talked about already, and it will do as much harm to us + as to you all if the name of the principal culprit—known at + present only to the Public Prosecutor, the examining judge, and + myself—should happen to leak out.” + </pre> + <p> + At this point the letter fell from Marshal Hulot’s hands; he looked at his + brother; he saw that there was no need to examine the evidence. But he + looked for Johann Fischer’s letter, and after reading it at a glance, held + it out to Hector:— + </p> + <h3> + “FROM THE PRISON AT ORAN. + </h3> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “DEAR NEPHEW,—When you read this letter, I shall have ceased to + live. + + “Be quite easy, no proof can be found to incriminate you. When I + am dead and your Jesuit of a Chardin fled, the trial must + collapse. The face of our Adeline, made so happy by you, makes + death easy to me. Now you need not send the two hundred thousand + francs. Good-bye. + + “This letter will be delivered by a prisoner for a short term whom + I can trust, I believe. +</pre> + <h3> + “JOHANN FISCHER.” + </h3> + <p> + “I beg your pardon,” said Marshal Hulot to the Prince de Wissembourg with + pathetic pride. + </p> + <p> + “Come, come, say <i>tu</i>, not the formal <i>vous</i>,” replied the + Minister, clasping his old friend’s hand. “The poor lancer killed no one + but himself,” he added, with a thunderous look at Hulot d’Ervy. + </p> + <p> + “How much have you had?” said the Comte de Forzheim to his brother. + </p> + <p> + “Two hundred thousand francs.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear friend,” said the Count, addressing the Minister, “you shall have + the two hundred thousand francs within forty-eight hours. It shall never + be said that a man bearing the name of Hulot has wronged the public + treasury of a single sou.” + </p> + <p> + “What nonsense!” said the Prince. “I know where the money is, and I can + get it back.—Send in your resignation and ask for your pension!” he + went on, sending a double sheet of foolscap flying across to where the + Councillor of State had sat down by the table, for his legs gave way under + him. “To bring you to trial would disgrace us all. I have already obtained + from the superior Board their sanction to this line of action. Since you + can accept life with dishonor—in my opinion the last degradation—you + will get the pension you have earned. Only take care to be forgotten.” + </p> + <p> + The Minister rang. + </p> + <p> + “Is Marneffe, the head-clerk, out there?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, monseigneur.” + </p> + <p> + “Show him in!” + </p> + <p> + “You,” said the Minister as Marneffe came in, “you and your wife have + wittingly and intentionally ruined the Baron d’Ervy whom you see.” + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur le Ministre, I beg your pardon. We are very poor. I have nothing + to live on but my pay, and I have two children, and the one that is coming + will have been brought into the family by Monsieur le Baron.” + </p> + <p> + “What a villain he looks!” said the Prince, pointing to Marneffe and + addressing Marshal Hulot.—“No more of Sganarelle speeches,” he went + on; “you will disgorge two hundred thousand francs, or be packed off to + Algiers.” + </p> + <p> + “But, Monsieur le Ministre, you do not know my wife. She has spent it all. + Monsieur le Baron asked six persons to dinner every evening.—Fifty + thousand francs a year are spent in my house.” + </p> + <p> + “Leave the room!” said the Minister, in the formidable tones that had + given the word to charge in battle. “You will have notice of your transfer + within two hours. Go!” + </p> + <p> + “I prefer to send in my resignation,” said Marneffe insolently. “For it is + too much to be what I am already, and thrashed into the bargain. That + would not satisfy me at all.” + </p> + <p> + And he left the room. + </p> + <p> + “What an impudent scoundrel!” said the Prince. + </p> + <p> + Marshal Hulot, who had stood up throughout this scene, as pale as a + corpse, studying his brother out of the corner of his eye, went up to the + Prince, and took his hand, repeating: + </p> + <p> + “In forty-eight hours the pecuniary mischief shall be repaired; but honor!—Good-bye, + Marshal. It is the last shot that kills. Yes, I shall die of it!” he said + in his ear. + </p> + <p> + “What the devil brought you here this morning?” said the Prince, much + moved. + </p> + <p> + “I came to see what can be done for his wife,” replied the Count, pointing + to his brother. “She is wanting bread—especially now!” + </p> + <p> + “He has his pension.” + </p> + <p> + “It is pledged!” + </p> + <p> + “The Devil must possess such a man,” said the Prince, with a shrug. “What + philtre do those baggages give you to rob you of your wits?” he went on to + Hulot d’Ervy. “How could you—you, who know the precise details with + which in French offices everything is written down at full length, + consuming reams of paper to certify to the receipt or outlay of a few + centimes—you, who have so often complained that a hundred signatures + are needed for a mere trifle, to discharge a soldier, to buy a curry-comb—how + could you hope to conceal a theft for any length of time? To say nothing + of the newspapers, and the envious, and the people who would like to + steal!—those women must rob you of your common-sense! Do they cover + your eyes with walnut-shells? or are you yourself made of different stuff + from us?—You ought to have left the office as soon as you found that + you were no longer a man, but a temperament. If you have complicated your + crime with such gross folly, you will end—I will not say where——” + </p> + <p> + “Promise me, Cottin, that you will do what you can for her,” said the + Marshal, who heard nothing, and was still thinking of his sister-in-law. + </p> + <p> + “Depend on me!” said the Minister. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, and good-bye then!—Come, monsieur,” he said to his + brother. + </p> + <p> + The Prince looked with apparent calmness at the two brothers, so different + in their demeanor, conduct, and character—the brave man and the + coward, the ascetic and the profligate, the honest man and the peculator—and + he said to himself: + </p> + <p> + “That mean creature will not have courage to die! And my poor Hulot, such + an honest fellow! has death in his knapsack, I know!” + </p> + <p> + He sat down again in his big chair and went on reading the despatches from + Africa with a look characteristic at once of the coolness of a leader and + of the pity roused by the sight of a battle-field! For in reality no one + is so humane as a soldier, stern as he may seem in the icy determination + acquired by the habit of fighting, and so absolutely essential in the + battle-field. + </p> + <p> + Next morning some of the newspapers contained, under various headings, the + following paragraphs:— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Monsieur le Baron Hulot d’Ervy has applied for his retiring + pension. The unsatisfactory state of the Algerian exchequer, which + has come out in consequence of the death and disappearance of two + employes, has had some share in this distinguished official’s + decision. On hearing of the delinquencies of the agents whom he + had unfortunately trusted, Monsieur le Baron Hulot had a paralytic + stroke in the War Minister’s private room. + + “Monsieur Hulot d’Ervy, brother to the Marshal Comte de Forzheim, + has been forty-five years in the service. His determination has + been vainly opposed, and is greatly regretted by all who know + Monsieur Hulot, whose private virtues are as conspicuous as his + administrative capacity. No one can have forgotten the devoted + conduct of the Commissary General of the Imperial Guard at Warsaw, + or the marvelous promptitude with which he organized supplies for + the various sections of the army so suddenly required by Napoleon + in 1815. + + “One more of the heroes of the Empire is retiring from the stage. + Monsieur le Baron Hulot has never ceased, since 1830, to be one of + the guiding lights of the State Council and of the War Office.” + + “ALGIERS.—The case known as the forage supply case, to which some + of our contemporaries have given absurd prominence, has been + closed by the death of the chief culprit. Johann Wisch has + committed suicide in his cell; his accomplice, who had absconded, + will be sentenced in default. + + “Wisch, formerly an army contractor, was an honest man and highly + respected, who could not survive the idea of having been the dupe + of Chardin, the storekeeper who has disappeared.” + </pre> + <p> + And in the <i>Paris News</i> the following paragraph appeared: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Monsieur le Marechal the Minister of War, to prevent the + recurrence of such scandals for the future, has arranged for a + regular Commissariat office in Africa. A head-clerk in the War + Office, Monsieur Marneffe, is spoken of as likely to be appointed + to the post of director.” + </pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “The office vacated by Baron Hulot is the object of much ambition. + The appointment is promised, it is said, to Monsieur le Comte + Martial de la Roche-Hugon, Deputy, brother-in-law to Monsieur le + Comte de Rastignac. Monsieur Massol, Master of Appeals, will fill + his seat on the Council of State, and Monsieur Claude Vignon + becomes Master of Appeals.” + </pre> + <p> + Of all kinds of false gossip, the most dangerous for the Opposition + newspapers is the official bogus paragraph. However keen journalists may + be, they are sometimes the voluntary or involuntary dupes of the + cleverness of those who have risen from the ranks of the Press, like + Claude Vignon, to the higher realms of power. The newspaper can only be + circumvented by the journalist. It may be said, as a parody on a line by + Voltaire: + </p> + <p> + “The Paris news is never what the foolish folk believe.” + </p> + <p> + Marshal Hulot drove home with his brother, who took the front seat, + respectfully leaving the whole of the back of the carriage to his senior. + The two men spoke not a word. Hector was helpless. The Marshal was lost in + thought, like a man who is collecting all his strength, and bracing + himself to bear a crushing weight. On arriving at his own house, still + without speaking, but by an imperious gesture, he beckoned his brother + into his study. The Count had received from the Emperor Napoleon a + splendid pair of pistols from the Versailles factory; he took the box, + with its inscription. “<i>Given by the Emperor Napoleon to General Hulot</i>,” + out of his desk, and placing it on the top, he showed it to his brother, + saying, “There is your remedy.” + </p> + <p> + Lisbeth, peeping through the chink of the door, flew down to the carriage + and ordered the coachman to go as fast as he could gallop to the Rue + Plumet. Within about twenty minutes she had brought back Adeline, whom she + had told of the Marshal’s threat to his brother. + </p> + <p> + The Marshal, without looking at Hector, rang the bell for his factotum, + the old soldier who had served him for thirty years. + </p> + <p> + “Beau-Pied,” said he, “fetch my notary, and Count Steinbock, and my niece + Hortense, and the stockbroker to the Treasury. It is now half-past ten; + they must all be here by twelve. Take hackney cabs—and go faster + than <i>that</i>!” he added, a republican allusion which in past days had + been often on his lips. And he put on the scowl that had brought his + soldiers to attention when he was beating the broom on the heaths of + Brittany in 1799. (See <i>Les Chouans</i>.) + </p> + <p> + “You shall be obeyed, Marechal,” said Beau-Pied, with a military salute. + </p> + <p> + Still paying no heed to his brother, the old man came back into his study, + took a key out of his desk, and opened a little malachite box mounted in + steel, the gift of the Emperor Alexander. + </p> + <p> + By Napoleon’s orders he had gone to restore to the Russian Emperor the + private property seized at the battle of Dresden, in exchange for which + Napoleon hoped to get back Vandamme. The Czar rewarded General Hulot very + handsomely, giving him this casket, and saying that he hoped one day to + show the same courtesy to the Emperor of the French; but he kept Vandamme. + The Imperial arms of Russia were displayed in gold on the lid of the box, + which was inlaid with gold. + </p> + <p> + The Marshal counted the bank-notes it contained; he had a hundred and + fifty-two thousand francs. He saw this with satisfaction. At the same + moment Madame Hulot came into the room in a state to touch the heart of + the sternest judge. She flew into Hector’s arms, looking alternately with + a crazy eye at the Marshal and at the case of pistols. + </p> + <p> + “What have you to say against your brother? What has my husband done to + you?” said she, in such a voice that the Marshal heard her. + </p> + <p> + “He has disgraced us all!” replied the Republican veteran, who spoke with + a vehemence that reopened one of his old wounds. “He has robbed the + Government! He has cast odium on my name, he makes me wish I were dead—he + has killed me!—I have only strength enough left to make restitution! + </p> + <p> + “I have been abased before the Conde of the Republic, the man I esteem + above all others, and to whom I unjustifiably gave the lie—the + Prince of Wissembourg!—Is that nothing? That is the score his + country has against him!” + </p> + <p> + He wiped away a tear. + </p> + <p> + “Now, as to his family,” he went on. “He is robbing you of the bread I had + saved for you, the fruit of thirty years’ economy, of the privations of an + old soldier! Here is what was intended for you,” and he held up the + bank-notes. “He has killed his Uncle Fischer, a noble and worthy son of + Alsace who could not—as he can—endure the thought of a stain + on his peasant’s honor. + </p> + <p> + “To crown all, God, in His adorable clemency, had allowed him to choose an + angel among women; he has had the unspeakable happiness of having an + Adeline for his wife! And he has deceived her, he has soaked her in + sorrows, he has neglected her for prostitutes, for street-hussies, for + ballet-girls, actresses—Cadine, Josepha, Marneffe!—And that is + the brother I treated as a son and made my pride! + </p> + <p> + “Go, wretched man; if you can accept the life of degradation you have made + for yourself, leave my house! I have not the heart to curse a brother I + have loved so well—I am as foolish about him as you are, Adeline—but + never let me see him again. I forbid his attending my funeral or following + me to the grave. Let him show the decency of a criminal if he can feel no + remorse.” + </p> + <p> + The Marshal, as pale as death, fell back on the settee, exhausted by his + solemn speech. And, for the first time in his life perhaps, tears gathered + in his eyes and rolled down his cheeks. + </p> + <p> + “My poor uncle!” cried Lisbeth, putting a handkerchief to her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Brother!” said Adeline, kneeling down by the Marshal, “live for my sake. + Help me in the task of reconciling Hector to the world and making him + redeem the past.” + </p> + <p> + “He!” cried the Marshal. “If he lives, he is not at the end of his crimes. + A man who has misprized an Adeline, who has smothered in his own soul the + feelings of a true Republican which I tried to instill into him, the love + of his country, of his family, and of the poor—that man is a + monster, a swine!—Take him away if you still care for him, for a + voice within me cries to me to load my pistols and blow his brains out. By + killing him I should save you all, and I should save him too from + himself.” + </p> + <p> + The old man started to his feet with such a terrifying gesture that poor + Adeline exclaimed: + </p> + <p> + “Hector—come!” + </p> + <p> + She seized her husband’s arm, dragged him away, and out of the house; but + the Baron was so broken down, that she was obliged to call a coach to take + him to the Rue Plumet, where he went to bed. The man remained there for + several days in a sort of half-dissolution, refusing all nourishment + without a word. By floods of tears, Adeline persuaded him to swallow a + little broth; she nursed him, sitting by his bed, and feeling only, of all + the emotions that once had filled her heart, the deepest pity for him. + </p> + <p> + At half-past twelve, Lisbeth showed into her dear Marshal’s room—for + she would not leave him, so much was she alarmed at the evident change in + him—Count Steinbock and the notary. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur le Comte,” said the Marshal, “I would beg you to be so good as + to put your signature to a document authorizing my niece, your wife, to + sell a bond for certain funds of which she at present holds only the + reversion.—You, Mademoiselle Fischer, will agree to this sale, thus + losing your life interest in the securities.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, dear Count,” said Lisbeth without hesitation. + </p> + <p> + “Good, my dear,” said the old soldier. “I hope I may live to reward you. + But I did not doubt you; you are a true Republican, a daughter of the + people.” He took the old maid’s hand and kissed it. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur Hannequin,” he went on, speaking to the notary, “draw up the + necessary document in the form of a power of attorney, and let me have it + within two hours, so that I may sell the stock on the Bourse to-day. My + niece, the Countess, holds the security; she will be here to sign the + power of attorney when you bring it, and so will mademoiselle. Monsieur le + Comte will be good enough to go with you and sign it at your office.” + </p> + <p> + The artist, at a nod from Lisbeth, bowed respectfully to the Marshal and + went away. + </p> + <p> + Next morning, at ten o’clock, the Comte de Forzheim sent in to announce + himself to the Prince, and was at once admitted. + </p> + <p> + “Well, my dear Hulot,” said the Prince, holding out the newspapers to his + old friend, “we have saved appearances, you see.—Read.” + </p> + <p> + Marshal Hulot laid the papers on his comrade’s table, and held out to him + the two hundred thousand francs. + </p> + <p> + “Here is the money of which my brother robbed the State,” said he. + </p> + <p> + “What madness!” cried the Minister. “It is impossible,” he said into the + speaking-trumpet handed to him by the Marshal, “to manage this + restitution. We should be obliged to declare your brother’s dishonest + dealings, and we have done everything to hide them.” + </p> + <p> + “Do what you like with the money; but the family shall not owe one sou of + its fortune to a robbery on the funds of the State,” said the Count. + </p> + <p> + “I will take the King’s commands in the matter. We will discuss it no + further,” replied the Prince, perceiving that it would be impossible to + conquer the old man’s sublime obstinacy on the point. + </p> + <p> + “Good-bye, Cottin,” said the old soldier, taking the Prince’s hand. “I + feel as if my soul were frozen—” + </p> + <p> + Then, after going a step towards the door, he turned round, looked at the + Prince, and seeing that he was deeply moved, he opened his arms to clasp + him in them; the two old soldiers embraced each other. + </p> + <p> + “I feel as if I were taking leave of the whole of the old army in you,” + said the Count. + </p> + <p> + “Good-bye, my good old comrade!” said the Minister. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it is good-bye; for I am going where all our brave men are for whom + we have mourned—” + </p> + <p> + Just then Claude Vignon was shown in. The two relics of the Napoleonic + phalanx bowed gravely to each other, effacing every trace of emotion. + </p> + <p> + “You have, I hope, been satisfied by the papers,” said the Master of + Appeals-elect. “I contrived to let the Opposition papers believe that they + were letting out our secrets.” + </p> + <p> + “Unfortunately, it is all in vain,” replied the Minister, watching Hulot + as he left the room. “I have just gone through a leave-taking that has + been a great grief to me. For, indeed, Marshal Hulot has not three days to + live; I saw that plainly enough yesterday. That man, one of those honest + souls that are above proof, a soldier respected by the bullets in spite of + his valor, received his death-blow—there, in that armchair—and + dealt by my hand, in a letter!—Ring and order my carriage. I must go + to Neuilly,” said he, putting the two hundred thousand francs into his + official portfolio. + </p> + <p> + Notwithstanding Lisbeth’s nursing, Marshal Hulot three days later was a + dead man. Such men are the glory of the party they support. To + Republicans, the Marshal was the ideal of patriotism; and they all + attended his funeral, which was followed by an immense crowd. The army, + the State officials, the Court, and the populace all came to do homage to + this lofty virtue, this spotless honesty, this immaculate glory. Such a + last tribute of the people is not a thing to be had for the asking. + </p> + <p> + This funeral was distinguished by one of those tributes of delicate + feeling, of good taste, and sincere respect which from time to time remind + us of the virtues and dignity of the old French nobility. Following the + Marshal’s bier came the old Marquis de Montauran, the brother of him who, + in the great rising of the Chouans in 1799, had been the foe, the luckless + foe, of Hulot. That Marquis, killed by the balls of the “Blues,” had + confided the interests of his young brother to the Republican soldier. + (See <i>Les Chouans</i>.) Hulot had so faithfully acted on the noble + Royalist’s verbal will, that he succeeded in saving the young man’s + estates, though he himself was at the time an emigre. And so the homage of + the old French nobility was not wanting to the leader who, nine years + since, had conquered MADAME. + </p> + <p> + This death, happening just four days before the banns were cried for the + last time, came upon Lisbeth like the thunderbolt that burns the garnered + harvest with the barn. The peasant of Lorraine, as often happens, had + succeeded too well. The Marshal had died of the blows dealt to the family + by herself and Madame Marneffe. + </p> + <p> + The old maid’s vindictiveness, which success seemed to have somewhat + mollified, was aggravated by this disappointment of her hopes. Lisbeth + went, crying with rage, to Madame Marneffe; for she was homeless, the + Marshal having agreed that his lease was at any time to terminate with his + life. Crevel, to console Valerie’s friend, took charge of her savings, + added to them considerably, and invested the capital in five per cents, + giving her the life interest, and putting the securities into Celestine’s + name. Thanks to this stroke of business, Lisbeth had an income of about + two thousand francs. + </p> + <p> + When the Marshal’s property was examined and valued, a note was found, + addressed to his sister-in-law, to his niece Hortense, and to his nephew + Victorin, desiring that they would pay among them an annuity of twelve + hundred francs to Mademoiselle Lisbeth Fischer, who was to have been his + wife. + </p> + <p> + Adeline, seeing her husband between life and death, succeeded for some + days in hiding from him the fact of his brother’s death; but Lisbeth came, + in mourning, and the terrible truth was told him eleven days after the + funeral. + </p> + <p> + The crushing blow revived the sick man’s energies. He got up, found his + family collected in the drawing-room, all in black, and suddenly silent as + he came in. In a fortnight, Hulot, as lean as a spectre, looked to his + family the mere shadow of himself. + </p> + <p> + “I must decide on something,” said he in a husky voice, as he seated + himself in an easy-chair, and looked round at the party, of whom Crevel + and Steinbock were absent. + </p> + <p> + “We cannot stay here, the rent is too high,” Hortense was saying just as + her father came in. + </p> + <p> + “As to a home,” said Victorin, breaking the painful silence, “I can offer + my mother——” + </p> + <p> + As he heard these words, which excluded him, the Baron raised his head, + which was sunk on his breast as though he were studying the pattern of the + carpet, though he did not even see it, and he gave the young lawyer an + appealing look. The rights of a father are so indefeasibly sacred, even + when he is a villain and devoid of honor, that Victorin paused. + </p> + <p> + “To your mother,” the Baron repeated. “You are right, my son.” + </p> + <p> + “The rooms over ours in our wing,” said Celestine, finishing her husband’s + sentence. + </p> + <p> + “I am in your way, my dears?” said the Baron, with the mildness of a man + who has judged himself. “But do not be uneasy as to the future; you will + have no further cause for complaint of your father; you will not see him + till the time when you need no longer blush for him.” + </p> + <p> + He went up to Hortense and kissed her brow. He opened his arms to his son, + who rushed into his embrace, guessing his father’s purpose. The Baron + signed to Lisbeth, who came to him, and he kissed her forehead. Then he + went to his room, whither Adeline followed him in an agony of dread. + </p> + <p> + “My brother was quite right, Adeline,” he said, holding her hand. “I am + unworthy of my home life. I dared not bless my children, who have behaved + so nobly, but in my heart; tell them that I could only venture to kiss + them; for the blessing of a bad man, a father who has been an assassin and + the scourge of his family instead of its protector and its glory, might + bring evil on them; but assure them that I shall bless them every day.—As + to you, God alone, for He is Almighty, can ever reward you according to + your merits!—I can only ask your forgiveness!” and he knelt at her + feet, taking her hands and wetting them with his tears. + </p> + <p> + “Hector, Hector! Your sins have been great, but Divine Mercy is infinite, + and you may repair all by staying with me.—Rise up in Christian + charity, my dear—I am your wife, and not your judge. I am your + possession; do what you will with me; take me wherever you go, I feel + strong enough comfort you, to make life endurable to you, by the strength + of my love, my care, and respect.—Our children are settled in life; + they need me no more. Let me try to be an amusement to you, an occupation. + Let me share the pain of your banishment and of your poverty, and help to + mitigate it. I could always be of some use, if it were only to save the + expense of a servant.” + </p> + <p> + “Can you forgive, my dearly-beloved Adeline?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, only get up, my dear!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, with that forgiveness I can live,” said he, rising to his feet. “I + came back into this room that my children should not see their father’s + humiliation. Oh! the sight constantly before their eyes of a father so + guilty as I am is a terrible thing; it must undermine parental influence + and break every family tie. So I cannot remain among you, and I must go to + spare you the odious spectacle of a father bereft of dignity. Do not + oppose my departure Adeline. It would only be to load with your own hand + the pistol to blow my brains out. Above all, do not seek me in my + hiding-place; you would deprive me of the only strong motive remaining in + me, that of remorse.” + </p> + <p> + Hector’s decisiveness silenced his dejected wife. Adeline, lofty in the + midst of all this ruin, had derived her courage from her perfect union + with her husband; for she had dreamed of having him for her own, of the + beautiful task of comforting him, of leading him back to family life, and + reconciling him to himself. + </p> + <p> + “But, Hector, would you leave me to die of despair, anxiety, and alarms!” + said she, seeing herself bereft of the mainspring of her strength. + </p> + <p> + “I will come back to you, dear angel—sent from Heaven expressly for + me, I believe. I will come back, if not rich, at least with enough to live + in ease.—Listen, my sweet Adeline, I cannot stay here for many + reasons. In the first place, my pension of six thousand francs is pledged + for four years, so I have nothing. That is not all. I shall be committed + to prison within a few days in consequence of the bills held by Vauvinet. + So I must keep out of the way until my son, to whom I will give full + instructions, shall have bought in the bills. My disappearance will + facilitate that. As soon as my pension is my own, and Vauvinet is paid + off, I will return to you.—You would be sure to let out the secret + of my hiding-place. Be calm; do not cry, Adeline—it is only for a + month—” + </p> + <p> + “Where will you go? What will you do? What will become of you? Who will + take care of you now that you are no longer young? Let me go with you—we + will go abroad—” said she. + </p> + <p> + “Well, well, we will see,” he replied. + </p> + <p> + The Baron rang and ordered Mariette to collect all his things and pack + them quickly and secretly. Then, after embracing his wife with a warmth of + affection to which she was unaccustomed, he begged her to leave him alone + for a few minutes while he wrote his instructions for Victorin, promising + that he would not leave the house till dark, or without her. + </p> + <p> + As soon as the Baroness was in the drawing-room, the cunning old man stole + out through the dressing-closet to the anteroom, and went away, giving + Mariette a slip of paper, on which was written, “Address my trunks to go + by railway to Corbeil—to Monsieur Hector, cloak-room, Corbeil.” + </p> + <p> + The Baron jumped into a hackney coach, and was rushing across Paris by the + time Mariette came to give the Baroness this note, and say that her master + had gone out. Adeline flew back into her room, trembling more violently + than ever; her children followed on hearing her give a piercing cry. They + found her in a dead faint; and they put her to bed, for she was seized by + a nervous fever which held her for a month between life and death. + </p> + <p> + “Where is he?” was the only thing she would say. + </p> + <p> + Victorin sought for him in vain. + </p> + <p> + And this is why. The Baron had driven to the Place du Palais Royal. There + this man, who had recovered all his wits to work out a scheme which he had + premeditated during the days he had spent crushed with pain and grief, + crossed the Palais Royal on foot, and took a handsome carriage from a + livery-stable in the Rue Joquelet. In obedience to his orders, the + coachman went to the Rue de la Ville l’Eveque, and into the courtyard of + Josepha’s mansion, the gates opening at once at the call of the driver of + such a splendid vehicle. Josepha came out, prompted by curiosity, for her + man-servant had told her that a helpless old gentleman, unable to get out + of his carriage, begged her to come to him for a moment. + </p> + <p> + “Josepha!—it is I——” + </p> + <p> + The singer recognized her Hulot only by his voice. + </p> + <p> + “What? you, poor old man?—On my honor, you look like a twenty-franc + piece that the Jews have sweated and the money-changers refuse.” + </p> + <p> + “Alas, yes,” replied Hulot; “I am snatched from the jaws of death! But you + are as lovely as ever. Will you be kind?” + </p> + <p> + “That depends,” said she; “everything is relative.” + </p> + <p> + “Listen,” said Hulot; “can you put me up for a few days in a servant’s + room under the roof? I have nothing—not a farthing, not a hope; no + food, no pension, no wife, no children, no roof over my head; without + honor, without courage, without a friend; and worse than all that, liable + to imprisonment for not meeting a bill.” + </p> + <p> + “Poor old fellow! you are without most things.—Are you also <i>sans + culotte</i>?” + </p> + <p> + “You laugh at me! I am done for,” cried the Baron. “And I counted on you + as Gourville did on Ninon.” + </p> + <p> + “And it was a ‘real lady,’ I am told who brought you to this,” said + Josepha. “Those precious sluts know how to pluck a goose even better than + we do!—Why, you are like a corpse that the crows have done with—I + can see daylight through!” + </p> + <p> + “Time is short, Josepha!” + </p> + <p> + “Come in, old boy, I am alone, as it happens, and my people don’t know + you. Send away your trap. Is it paid for?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said the Baron, getting out with the help of Josepha’s arm. + </p> + <p> + “You may call yourself my father if you like,” said the singer, moved to + pity. + </p> + <p> + She made Hulot sit down in the splendid drawing-room where he had last + seen her. + </p> + <p> + “And is it the fact, old man,” she went on, “that you have killed your + brother and your uncle, ruined your family, mortgaged your children’s + house over and over again, and robbed the Government till in Africa, all + for your princess?” + </p> + <p> + Hulot sadly bent his head. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I admire that!” cried Josepha, starting up in her enthusiasm. “It + is a general flare-up! It is Sardanapalus! Splendid, thoroughly complete! + I may be a hussy, but I have a soul! I tell you, I like a spendthrift, + like you, crazy over a woman, a thousand times better than those torpid, + heartless bankers, who are supposed to be so good, and who ruin no end of + families with their rails—gold for them, and iron for their gulls! + You have only ruined those who belong to you, you have sold no one but + yourself; and then you have excuses, physical and moral.” + </p> + <p> + She struck a tragic attitude, and spouted: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “‘Tis Venus whose grasp never parts from her prey. +</pre> + <p> + And there you are!” and she pirouetted on her toe. + </p> + <p> + Vice, Hulot found, could forgive him; vice smiled on him from the midst of + unbridled luxury. Here, as before a jury, the magnitude of a crime was an + extenuating circumstance. “And is your lady pretty at any rate?” asked + Josepha, trying as a preliminary act of charity, to divert Hulot’s + thoughts, for his depression grieved her. + </p> + <p> + “On my word, almost as pretty as you are,” said the Baron artfully. + </p> + <p> + “And monstrously droll? So I have been told. What does she do, I say? Is + she better fun than I am?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t want to talk about her,” said Hulot. + </p> + <p> + “And I hear she has come round my Crevel, and little Steinbock, and a + gorgeous Brazilian?” + </p> + <p> + “Very likely.” + </p> + <p> + “And that she has got a house as good as this, that Crevel has given her. + The baggage! She is my provost-marshal, and finishes off those I have + spoiled. I tell you why I am so curious to know what she is like, old boy; + I just caught sight of her in the Bois, in an open carriage—but a + long way off. She is a most accomplished harpy, Carabine says. She is + trying to eat up Crevel, but he only lets her nibble. Crevel is a knowing + hand, good-natured but hard-headed, who will always say Yes, and then go + his own way. He is vain and passionate; but his cash is cold. You can + never get anything out of such fellows beyond a thousand to three thousand + francs a month; they jib at any serious outlay, as a donkey does at a + running stream. + </p> + <p> + “Not like you, old boy. You are a man of passions; you would sell your + country for a woman. And, look here, I am ready to do anything for you! + You are my father; you started me in life; it is a sacred duty. What do + you want? Do you want a hundred thousand francs? I will wear myself to a + rag to gain them. As to giving you bed and board—that is nothing. A + place will be laid for you here every day; you can have a good room on the + second floor, and a hundred crowns a month for pocket-money.” + </p> + <p> + The Baron, deeply touched by such a welcome, had a last qualm of honor. + </p> + <p> + “No, my dear child, no; I did not come here for you to keep me,” said he. + </p> + <p> + “At your age it is something to be proud of,” said she. + </p> + <p> + “This is what I wish, my child. Your Duc d’Herouville has immense estates + in Normandy, and I want to be his steward, under the name of Thoul. I have + the capacity, and I am honest. A man may borrow of the Government, and yet + not steal from a cash-box——” + </p> + <p> + “H’m, h’m,” said Josepha. “Once drunk, drinks again.” + </p> + <p> + “In short, I only want to live out of sight for three years—” + </p> + <p> + “Well, it is soon done,” said Josepha. “This evening, after dinner, I have + only to speak. The Duke would marry me if I wished it, but I have his + fortune, and I want something better—his esteem. He is a Duke of the + first water. He is high-minded, as noble and great as Louis XIV. and + Napoleon rolled into one, though he is a dwarf. Besides, I have done for + him what la Schontz did for Rochefide; by taking my advice he has made two + millions. + </p> + <p> + “Now, listen to me, old popgun. I know you; you are always after the + women, and you would be dancing attendance on the Normandy girls, who are + splendid creatures, and getting your ribs cracked by their lovers and + fathers, and the Duke would have to get you out of the scrape. Why, can’t + I see by the way you look at me that the <i>young</i> man is not dead in + you—as Fenelon put it.—No, this stewardship is not the thing + for you. A man cannot be off with his Paris and with us, old boy, for the + saying! You would die of weariness at Herouville.” + </p> + <p> + “What is to become of me?” said the Baron, “for I will only stay here till + I see my way.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, shall I find a pigeon-hole for you? Listen, you old pirate. Women + are what you want. They are consolation in all circumstances. Attend now.—At + the end of the Alley, Rue Saint-Maur-du-Temple, there is a poor family I + know of where there is a jewel of a little girl, prettier than I was at + sixteen.—Ah! there is a twinkle in your eye already!—The child + works sixteen hours a day at embroidering costly pieces for the silk + merchants, and earns sixteen sous a day—one sou an hour!—and + feeds like the Irish, on potatoes fried in rats’ dripping, with bread five + times a week—and drinks canal water out of the town pipes, because + the Seine water costs too much; and she cannot set up on her own account + for lack of six or seven thousand francs. Your wife and children bore you + to death, don’t they?—Besides, one cannot submit to be nobody where + one has been a little Almighty. A father who has neither money nor honor + can only be stuffed and kept in a glass case.” + </p> + <p> + The Baron could not help smiling at these abominable jests. + </p> + <p> + “Well, now, Bijou is to come to-morrow morning to bring me an embroidered + wrapper, a gem! It has taken six months to make; no one else will have any + stuff like it! Bijou is very fond of me; I give her tidbits and my old + gowns. And I send orders for bread and meat and wood to the family, who + would break the shin-bones of the first comer if I bid them.—I try + to do a little good. Ah! I know what I endured from hunger myself!—Bijou + has confided to me all her little sorrows. There is the making of a super + at the Ambigu-Comique in that child. Her dream is to wear fine dresses + like mine; above all, to ride in a carriage. I shall say to her, ‘Look + here, little one, would you like to have a friend of—’ How old are + you?” she asked, interrupting herself. “Seventy-two?” + </p> + <p> + “I have given up counting.” + </p> + <p> + “‘Would you like an old gentleman of seventy-two?’ I shall say. ‘Very + clean and neat, and who does not take snuff, who is as sound as a bell, + and as good as a young man? He will marry you (in the Thirteenth + Arrondissement) and be very kind to you; he will place seven thousand + francs in your account, and furnish you a room all in mahogany, and if you + are good, he will sometimes take you to the play. He will give you a + hundred francs a month for pocket-money, and fifty francs for + housekeeping.’—I know Bijou; she is myself at fourteen. I jumped for + joy when that horrible Crevel made me his atrocious offers. Well, and you, + old man, will be disposed of for three years. She is a good child, well + behaved; for three or four years she will have her illusions—not for + longer.” + </p> + <p> + Hulot did not hesitate; he had made up his mind to refuse; but to seem + grateful to the kind-hearted singer, who was benevolent after her lights, + he affected to hesitate between vice and virtue. + </p> + <p> + “Why, you are as cold as a paving-stone in winter!” she exclaimed in + amazement. “Come, now. You will make a whole family happy—a + grandfather who runs all the errands, a mother who is being worn out with + work, and two sisters—one of them very plain—who make + thirty-two sous a day while putting their eyes out. It will make up for + the misery you have caused at home, and you will expiate your sin while + you are having as much fun as a minx at Mabille.” + </p> + <p> + Hulot, to put an end to this temptation, moved his fingers as if he were + counting out money. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! be quite easy as to ways and means,” replied Josepha. “My Duke will + lend you ten thousand francs; seven thousand to start an embroidery shop + in Bijou’s name, and three thousand for furnishing; and every three months + you will find a cheque here for six hundred and fifty francs. When you get + your pension paid you, you can repay the seventeen thousand francs. + Meanwhile you will be as happy as a cow in clover, and hidden in a hole + where the police will never find you. You must wear a loose serge coat, + and you will look like a comfortable householder. Call yourself Thoul, if + that is your fancy. I will tell Bijou that you are an uncle of mine come + from Germany, having failed in business, and you will be cosseted like a + divinity.—There now, Daddy!—And who knows! you may have no + regrets. In case you should be bored, keep one Sunday rig-out, and you can + come and ask me for a dinner and spend the evening here.” + </p> + <p> + “I!—and I meant to settle down and behave myself!—Look here, + borrow twenty thousand francs for me, and I will set out to make my + fortune in America, like my friend d’Aiglemont when Nucingen cleaned him + out.” + </p> + <p> + “You!” cried Josepha. “Nay, leave morals to work-a-day folks, to raw + recruits, to the <i>worrrthy</i> citizens who have nothing to boast of but + their virtue. You! You were born to be something better than a nincompoop; + you are as a man what I am as a woman—a spendthrift of genius.” + </p> + <p> + “We will sleep on it and discuss it all to-morrow morning.” + </p> + <p> + “You will dine with the Duke. My d’Herouville will receive you as civilly + as if you were the saviour of the State; and to-morrow you can decide. + Come, be jolly, old boy! Life is a garment; when it is dirty, we must + brush it; when it is ragged, it must be patched; but we keep it on as long + as we can.” + </p> + <p> + This philosophy of life, and her high spirits, postponed Hulot’s keenest + pangs. + </p> + <p> + At noon next day, after a capital breakfast, Hulot saw the arrival of one + of those living masterpieces which Paris alone of all the cities in the + world can produce, by means of the constant concubinage of luxury and + poverty, of vice and decent honesty, of suppressed desire and renewed + temptation, which makes the French capital the daughter of Ninevah, of + Babylon, and of Imperial Rome. + </p> + <p> + Mademoiselle Olympe Bijou, a child of sixteen, had the exquisite face + which Raphael drew for his Virgins; eyes of pathetic innocence, weary with + overwork—black eyes, with long lashes, their moisture parched with + the heat of laborious nights, and darkened with fatigue; a complexion like + porcelain, almost too delicate; a mouth like a partly opened pomegranate; + a heaving bosom, a full figure, pretty hands, the whitest teeth, and a + mass of black hair; and the whole meagrely set off by a cotton frock at + seventy-five centimes the metre, leather shoes without heels, and the + cheapest gloves. The girl, all unconscious of her charms, had put on her + best frock to wait on the fine lady. + </p> + <p> + The Baron, gripped again by the clutch of profligacy, felt all his life + concentrated in his eyes. He forgot everything on beholding this + delightful creature. He was like a sportsman in sight of the game; if an + emperor were present, he must take aim! + </p> + <p> + “And warranted sound,” said Josepha in his ear. “An honest child, and + wanting bread. This is Paris—I have been there!” + </p> + <p> + “It is a bargain,” replied the old man, getting up and rubbing his hands. + </p> + <p> + When Olympe Bijou was gone, Josepha looked mischievously at the Baron. + </p> + <p> + “If you want things to keep straight, Daddy,” said she, “be as firm as the + Public Prosecutor on the bench. Keep a tight hand on her, be a Bartholo! + Ware Auguste, Hippolyte, Nestor, Victor—<i>or</i>, that is gold, in + every form. When once the child is fed and dressed, if she gets the upper + hand, she will drive you like a serf.—I will see to settling you + comfortably. The Duke does the handsome; he will lend—that is, give—you + ten thousand francs; and he deposits eight thousand with his notary, who + will pay you six hundred francs every quarter, for I cannot trust you.—Now, + am I nice?” + </p> + <p> + “Adorable.” + </p> + <p> + Ten days after deserting his family, when they were gathered round + Adeline, who seemed to be dying, as she said again and again, in a weak + voice, “Where is he?” Hector, under the name of Thoul, was established in + the Rue Saint-Maur, at the head of a business as embroiderer, under the + name of Thoul and Bijou. + </p> + <p> + Victorin Hulot, under the overwhelming disasters of his family, had + received the finishing touch which makes or mars the man. He was + perfection. In the great storms of life we act like the captain of a ship + who, under the stress of a hurricane, lightens the ship of its heaviest + cargo. The young lawyer lost his self-conscious pride, his too evident + assertiveness, his arrogance as an orator and his political pretensions. + He was as a man what his wife was as a woman. He made up his mind to make + the best of his Celestine—who certainly did not realize his dreams—and + was wise enough to estimate life at its true value by contenting himself + in all things with the second best. He vowed to fulfil his duties, so much + had he been shocked by his father’s example. + </p> + <p> + These feelings were confirmed as he stood by his mother’s bed on the day + when she was out of danger. Nor did this happiness come single. Claude + Vignon, who called every day from the Prince de Wissembourg to inquire as + to Madame Hulot’s progress, desired the re-elected deputy to go with him + to see the Minister. + </p> + <p> + “His Excellency,” said he, “wants to talk over your family affairs with + you.” + </p> + <p> + The Prince had long known Victorin Hulot, and received him with a + friendliness that promised well. + </p> + <p> + “My dear fellow,” said the old soldier, “I promised your uncle, in this + room, that I would take care of your mother. That saintly woman, I am + told, is getting well again; now is the time to pour oil into your wounds. + I have for you here two hundred thousand francs; I will give them to you——” + </p> + <p> + The lawyer’s gesture was worthy of his uncle the Marshal. + </p> + <p> + “Be quite easy,” said the Prince, smiling; “it is money in trust. My days + are numbered; I shall not always be here; so take this sum, and fill my + place towards your family. You may use this money to pay off the mortgage + on your house. These two hundred thousand francs are the property of your + mother and your sister. If I gave the money to Madame Hulot, I fear that, + in her devotion to her husband, she would be tempted to waste it. And the + intention of those who restore it to you is, that it should produce bread + for Madame Hulot and her daughter, the Countess Steinbock. You are a + steady man, the worthy son of your noble mother, the true nephew of my + friend the Marshal; you are appreciated here, you see—and elsewhere. + So be the guardian angel of your family, and take this as a legacy from + your uncle and me.” + </p> + <p> + “Monseigneur,” said Hulot, taking the Minister’s hand and pressing it, + “such men as you know that thanks in words mean nothing; gratitude must be + proven.” + </p> + <p> + “Prove yours—” said the old man. + </p> + <p> + “In what way?” + </p> + <p> + “By accepting what I have to offer you,” said the Minister. “We propose to + appoint you to be attorney to the War Office, which just now is involved + in litigations in consequence of the plan for fortifying Paris; consulting + clerk also to the Prefecture of Police; and a member of the Board of the + Civil List. These three appointments will secure you salaries amounting to + eighteen thousand francs, and will leave you politically free. You can + vote in the Chamber in obedience to your opinions and your conscience. Act + in perfect freedom on that score. It would be a bad thing for us if there + were no national opposition! + </p> + <p> + “Also, a few lines from your uncle, written a day or two before he + breathed his last, suggested what I could do for your mother, whom he + loved very truly.—Mesdames Popinot, de Rastignac, de Navarreins, + d’Espard, de Grandlieu, de Carigliano, de Lenoncourt, and de la Batie have + made a place for your mother as a Lady Superintendent of their charities. + These ladies, presidents of various branches of benevolent work, cannot do + everything themselves; they need a lady of character who can act for them + by going to see the objects of their beneficence, ascertaining that + charity is not imposed upon, and whether the help given really reaches + those who applied for it, finding out that the poor who are ashamed to + beg, and so forth. Your mother will fulfil an angelic function; she will + be thrown in with none but priests and these charitable ladies; she will + be paid six thousand francs and the cost of her hackney coaches. + </p> + <p> + “You see, young man, that a pure and nobly virtuous man can still assist + his family, even from the grave. Such a name as your uncle’s is, and ought + to be, a buckler against misfortune in a well-organized scheme of society. + Follow in his path; you have started in it, I know; continue in it.” + </p> + <p> + “Such delicate kindness cannot surprise me in my mother’s friend,” said + Victorin. “I will try to come up to all your hopes.” + </p> + <p> + “Go at once, and take comfort to your family.—By the way,” added the + Prince, as he shook hands with Victorin, “your father has disappeared?” + </p> + <p> + “Alas! yes.” + </p> + <p> + “So much the better. That unhappy man has shown his wit, in which, indeed, + he is not lacking.” + </p> + <p> + “There are bills of his to be met.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, you shall have six months’ pay of your three appointments in + advance. This pre-payment will help you, perhaps, to get the notes out of + the hands of the money-lender. And I will see Nucingen, and perhaps may + succeed in releasing your father’s pension, pledged to him, without its + costing you or our office a sou. The peer has not killed the banker in + Nucingen; he is insatiable; he wants some concession.—I know not + what——” + </p> + <p> + So on his return to the Rue Plumet, Victorin could carry out his plan of + lodging his mother and sister under his roof. + </p> + <p> + The young lawyer, already famous, had, for his sole fortune, one of the + handsomest houses in Paris, purchased in 1834 in preparation for his + marriage, situated on the boulevard between the Rue de la Paix and the Rue + Louis-le-Grand. A speculator had built two houses between the boulevard + and the street; and between these, with the gardens and courtyards to the + front and back, there remained still standing a splendid wing, the remains + of the magnificent mansion of the Verneuils. The younger Hulot had + purchased this fine property, on the strength of Mademoiselle Crevel’s + marriage-portion, for one million francs, when it was put up to auction, + paying five hundred thousand down. He lived on the ground floor, expecting + to pay the remainder out of letting the rest; but though it is safe to + speculate in house-property in Paris, such investments are capricious or + hang fire, depending on unforeseen circumstances. + </p> + <p> + As the Parisian lounger may have observed, the boulevard between the Rue + de la Paix and the Rue Louis-le-Grand prospered but slowly; it took so + long to furbish and beautify itself, that trade did not set up its display + there till 1840—the gold of the money-changers, the fairy-work of + fashion, and the luxurious splendor of shop-fronts. + </p> + <p> + In spite of two hundred thousand francs given by Crevel to his daughter at + the time when his vanity was flattered by this marriage, before the Baron + had robbed him of Josepha; in spite of the two hundred thousand francs + paid off by Victorin in the course of seven years, the property was still + burdened with a debt of five hundred thousand francs, in consequence of + Victorin’s devotion to his father. Happily, a rise in rents and the + advantages of the situation had at this time improved the value of the + houses. The speculation was justifying itself after eight years’ patience, + during which the lawyer had strained every nerve to pay the interest and + some trifling amounts of the capital borrowed. + </p> + <p> + The tradespeople were ready to offer good rents for the shops, on + condition of being granted leases for eighteen years. The dwelling + apartments rose in value by the shifting of the centre in Paris life—henceforth + transferred to the region between the Bourse and the Madeleine, now the + seat of the political power and financial authority in Paris. The money + paid to him by the Minister, added to a year’s rent in advance and the + premiums paid by his tenants, would finally reduce the outstanding debt to + two hundred thousand francs. The two houses, if entirely let, would bring + in a hundred thousand francs a year. Within two years more, during which + the Hulots could live on his salaries, added to by the Marshal’s + investments, Victorin would be in a splendid position. + </p> + <p> + This was manna from heaven. Victorin could give up the first floor of his + own house to his mother, and the second to Hortense, excepting two rooms + reserved for Lisbeth. With Cousin Betty as the housekeeper, this compound + household could bear all these charges, and yet keep up a good appearance, + as beseemed a pleader of note. The great stars of the law-courts were + rapidly disappearing; and Victorin Hulot, gifted with a shrewd tongue and + strict honesty, was listened to by the Bench and Councillors; he studied + his cases thoroughly, and advanced nothing that he could not prove. He + would not hold every brief that offered; in fact, he was a credit to the + bar. + </p> + <p> + The Baroness’ home in the Rue Plumet had become so odious to her, that she + allowed herself to be taken to the Rue Louis-le-Grand. Thus, by her son’s + care, Adeline occupied a fine apartment; she was spared all the daily + worries of life; for Lisbeth consented to begin again, working wonders of + domestic economy, such as she had achieved for Madame Marneffe, seeing + here a way of exerting her silent vengeance on those three noble lives, + the object, each, of her hatred, which was kept growing by the overthrow + of all her hopes. + </p> + <p> + Once a month she went to see Valerie, sent, indeed, by Hortense, who + wanted news of Wenceslas, and by Celestine, who was seriously uneasy at + the acknowledged and well-known connection between her father and a woman + to whom her mother-in-law and sister-in-law owed their ruin and their + sorrows. As may be supposed, Lisbeth took advantage of this to see Valerie + as often as possible. + </p> + <p> + Thus, about twenty months passed by, during which the Baroness recovered + her health, though her palsied trembling never left her. She made herself + familiar with her duties, which afforded her a noble distraction from her + sorrow and constant food for the divine goodness of her heart. She also + regarded it as an opportunity for finding her husband in the course of one + of those expeditions which took her into every part of Paris. + </p> + <p> + During this time, Vauvinet had been paid, and the pension of six thousand + francs was almost redeemed. Victorin could maintain his mother as well as + Hortense out of the ten thousand francs interest on the money left by + Marshal Hulot in trust for them. Adeline’s salary amounted to six thousand + francs a year; and this, added to the Baron’s pension when it was freed, + would presently secure an income of twelve thousand francs a year to the + mother and daughter. + </p> + <p> + Thus, the poor woman would have been almost happy but for her perpetual + anxieties as to the Baron’s fate; for she longed to have him with her to + share the improved fortunes that smiled on the family; and but for the + constant sight of her forsaken daughter; and but for the terrible thrusts + constantly and <i>unconsciously</i> dealt her by Lisbeth, whose diabolical + character had free course. + </p> + <p> + A scene which took place at the beginning of the month of March 1843 will + show the results of Lisbeth’s latent and persistent hatred, still + seconded, as she always was, by Madame Marneffe. + </p> + <p> + Two great events had occurred in the Marneffe household. In the first + place, Valerie had given birth to a still-born child, whose little coffin + had cost her two thousand francs a year. And then, as to Marneffe himself, + eleven months since, this is the report given by Lisbeth to the Hulot + family one day on her return from a visit of discovery at the hotel + Marneffe. + </p> + <p> + “This morning,” said she, “that dreadful Valerie sent for Doctor Bianchon + to ask whether the medical men who had condemned her husband yesterday had + made no mistake. Bianchon pronounced that to-night at the latest that + horrible creature will depart to the torments that await him. Old Crevel + and Madame Marneffe saw the doctor out; and your father, my dear + Celestine, gave him five gold pieces for his good news. + </p> + <p> + “When he came back into the drawing-room, Crevel cut capers like a dancer; + he embraced that woman, exclaiming, ‘Then, at last, you will be Madame + Crevel!’—And to me, when she had gone back to her husband’s bedside, + for he was at his last gasp, your noble father said to me, ‘With Valerie + as my wife, I can become a peer of France! I shall buy an estate I have my + eye on—Presles, which Madame de Serizy wants to sell. I shall be + Crevel de Presles, member of the Common Council of Seine-et-Oise, and + Deputy. I shall have a son! I shall be everything I have ever wished to + be.’—‘Heh!’ said I, ‘and what about your daughter?’—‘Bah!’ + says he, ‘she is only a woman! And she is quite too much of a Hulot. + Valerie has a horror of them all.—My son-in-law has never chosen to + come to this house; why has he given himself such airs as a Mentor, a + Spartan, a Puritan, a philanthropist? Besides, I have squared accounts + with my daughter; she has had all her mother’s fortune, and two hundred + thousand francs to that. So I am free to act as I please.—I shall + judge of my son-in-law and Celestine by their conduct on my marriage; as + they behave, so shall I. If they are nice to their stepmother, I will + receive them. I am a man, after all!’—In short, all this + rhodomontade! And an attitude like Napoleon on the column.” + </p> + <p> + The ten months’ widowhood insisted on by the law had now elapsed some few + days since. The estate of Presles was purchased. Victorin and Celestine + had that very morning sent Lisbeth to make inquiries as to the marriage of + the fascinating widow to the Mayor of Paris, now a member of the Common + Council of the Department of Seine-et-Oise. + </p> + <p> + Celestine and Hortense, in whom the ties of affection had been drawn + closer since they had lived under the same roof, were almost inseparable. + The Baroness, carried away by a sense of honesty which led her to + exaggerate the duties of her place, devoted herself to the work of charity + of which she was the agent; she was out almost every day from eleven till + five. The sisters-in-law, united in their cares for the children whom they + kept together, sat at home and worked. They had arrived at the intimacy + which thinks aloud, and were a touching picture of two sisters, one + cheerful and the other sad. The less happy of the two, handsome, lively, + high-spirited, and clever, seemed by her manner to defy her painful + situation; while the melancholy Celestine, sweet and calm, and as equable + as reason itself, might have been supposed to have some secret grief. It + was this contradiction, perhaps, that added to their warm friendship. Each + supplied the other with what she lacked. + </p> + <p> + Seated in a little summer-house in the garden, which the speculator’s + trowel had spared by some fancy of the builder’s, who believed that he was + preserving these hundred feet square of earth for his own pleasure, they + were admiring the first green shoots of the lilac-trees, a spring festival + which can only be fully appreciated in Paris when the inhabitants have + lived for six months oblivious of what vegetation means, among the cliffs + of stone where the ocean of humanity tosses to and fro. + </p> + <p> + “Celestine,” said Hortense to her sister-in-law, who had complained that + in such fine weather her husband should be kept at the Chamber, “I think + you do not fully appreciate your happiness. Victorin is a perfect angel, + and you sometimes torment him.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear, men like to be tormented! Certain ways of teasing are a proof of + affection. If your poor mother had only been—I will not say + exacting, but always prepared to be exacting, you would not have had so + much to grieve over.” + </p> + <p> + “Lisbeth is not come back. I shall have to sing the song of <i>Malbrouck</i>,” + said Hortense. “I do long for some news of Wenceslas!—What does he + live on? He has not done a thing these two years.” + </p> + <p> + “Victorin saw him, he told me, with that horrible woman not long ago; and + he fancied that she maintains him in idleness.—If you only would, + dear soul, you might bring your husband back to you yet.” + </p> + <p> + Hortense shook her head. + </p> + <p> + “Believe me,” Celestine went on, “the position will ere long be + intolerable. In the first instance, rage, despair, indignation, gave you + strength. The awful disasters that have come upon us since—two + deaths, ruin, and the disappearance of Baron Hulot—have occupied + your mind and heart; but now you live in peace and silence, you will find + it hard to bear the void in your life; and as you cannot, and will never + leave the path of virtue, you will have to be reconciled to Wenceslas. + Victorin, who loves you so much, is of that opinion. There is something + stronger than one’s feelings even, and that is Nature!” + </p> + <p> + “But such a mean creature!” cried the proud Hortense. “He cares for that + woman because she feeds him.—And has she paid his debts, do you + suppose?—Good Heaven! I think of that man’s position day and night! + He is the father of my child, and he is degrading himself.” + </p> + <p> + “But look at your mother, my dear,” said Celestine. + </p> + <p> + Celestine was one of those women who, when you have given them reasons + enough to convince a Breton peasant, still go back for the hundredth time + to their original argument. The character of her face, somewhat flat, + dull, and common, her light-brown hair in stiff, neat bands, her very + complexion spoke of a sensible woman, devoid of charm, but also devoid of + weakness. + </p> + <p> + “The Baroness would willingly go to join her husband in his disgrace, to + comfort him and hide him in her heart from every eye,” Celestine went on. + “Why, she has a room made ready upstairs for Monsieur Hulot, as if she + expected to find him and bring him home from one day to the next.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh yes, my mother is sublime!” replied Hortense. “She has been so every + minute of every day for six-and-twenty years; but I am not like her, it is + not my nature.—How can I help it? I am angry with myself sometimes; + but you do not know, Celestine, what it would be to make terms with + infamy.” + </p> + <p> + “There is my father!” said Celestine placidly. “He has certainly started + on the road that ruined yours. He is ten years younger than the Baron, to + be sure, and was only a tradesman; but how can it end? This Madame + Marneffe has made a slave of my father; he is her dog; she is mistress of + his fortune and his opinions, and nothing can open his eyes. I tremble + when I remember that their banns of marriage are already published!—My + husband means to make a last attempt; he thinks it a duty to try to avenge + society and the family, and bring that woman to account for all her + crimes. Alas! my dear Hortense, such lofty souls as Victorin and hearts + like ours come too late to a comprehension of the world and its ways!—This + is a secret, dear, and I have told you because you are interested in it, + but never by a word or a look betray it to Lisbeth, or your mother, or + anybody, for—” + </p> + <p> + “Here is Lisbeth!” said Hortense. “Well, cousin, and how is the Inferno of + the Rue Barbet going on?” + </p> + <p> + “Badly for you, my children.—Your husband, my dear Hortense, is more + crazy about that woman than ever, and she, I must own, is madly in love + with him.—Your father, dear Celestine, is gloriously blind. That, to + be sure, is nothing; I have had occasion to see it once a fortnight; + really, I am lucky never to have had anything to do with men, they are + besotted creatures.—Five days hence you, dear child, and Victorin + will have lost your father’s fortune.” + </p> + <p> + “Then the banns are cried?” said Celestine. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Lisbeth, “and I have just been arguing your case. I pointed + out to that monster, who is going the way of the other, that if he would + only get you out of the difficulties you are in by paying off the mortgage + on the house, you would show your gratitude and receive your stepmother—” + </p> + <p> + Hortense started in horror. + </p> + <p> + “Victorin will see about that,” said Celestine coldly. + </p> + <p> + “But do you know what Monsieur le Maire’s answer was?” said Lisbeth. “‘I + mean to leave them where they are. Horses can only be broken in by lack of + food, sleep, and sugar.’—Why, Baron Hulot was not so bad as Monsieur + Crevel. + </p> + <p> + “So, my poor dears, you may say good-bye to the money. And such a fine + fortune! Your father paid three million francs for the Presles estate, and + he has thirty thousand francs a year in stocks! Oh!—he has no + secrets from me. He talks of buying the Hotel de Navarreins, in the Rue du + Bac. Madame Marneffe herself has forty thousand francs a year.—Ah!—here + is our guardian angel, here comes your mother!” she exclaimed, hearing the + rumble of wheels. + </p> + <p> + And presently the Baroness came down the garden steps and joined the + party. At fifty-five, though crushed by so many troubles, and constantly + trembling as if shivering with ague, Adeline, whose face was indeed pale + and wrinkled, still had a fine figure, a noble outline, and natural + dignity. Those who saw her said, “She must have been beautiful!” Worn with + the grief of not knowing her husband’s fate, of being unable to share with + him this oasis in the heart of Paris, this peace and seclusion and the + better fortune that was dawning on the family, her beauty was the beauty + of a ruin. As each gleam of hope died out, each day of search proved vain, + Adeline sank into fits of deep melancholy that drove her children to + despair. + </p> + <p> + The Baroness had gone out that morning with fresh hopes, and was anxiously + expected. An official, who was under obligations to Hulot, to whom he owed + his position and advancement, declared that he had seen the Baron in a box + at the Ambigu-Comique theatre with a woman of extraordinary beauty. So + Adeline had gone to call on the Baron Verneuil. This important personage, + while asserting that he had positively seen his old patron, and that his + behaviour to the woman indicated an illicit establishment, told Madame + Hulot that to avoid meeting him the Baron had left long before the end of + the play. + </p> + <p> + “He looked like a man at home with the damsel, but his dress betrayed some + lack of means,” said he in conclusion. + </p> + <p> + “Well?” said the three women as the Baroness came towards them. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Monsieur Hulot is in Paris; and to me,” said Adeline, “it is a + gleam of happiness only to know that he is within reach of us.” + </p> + <p> + “But he does not seem to have mended his ways,” Lisbeth remarked when + Adeline had finished her report of her visit to Baron Verneuil. “He has + taken up some little work-girl. But where can he get the money from? I + could bet that he begs of his former mistresses—Mademoiselle Jenny + Cadine or Josepha.” + </p> + <p> + The Baroness trembled more severely than ever; every nerve quivered; she + wiped away the tears that rose to her eyes and looked mournfully up to + heaven. + </p> + <p> + “I cannot think that a Grand Commander of the Legion of Honor will have + fallen so low,” said she. + </p> + <p> + “For his pleasure what would he not do?” said Lisbeth. “He robbed the + State, he will rob private persons, commit murder—who knows?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Lisbeth!” cried the Baroness, “keep such thoughts to yourself.” + </p> + <p> + At this moment Louise came up to the family group, now increased by the + arrival of the two Hulot children and little Wenceslas to see if their + grandmother’s pockets did not contain some sweetmeats. + </p> + <p> + “What is it, Louise?” asked one and another. + </p> + <p> + “A man who wants to see Mademoiselle Fischer.” + </p> + <p> + “Who is the man?” asked Lisbeth. + </p> + <p> + “He is in rags, mademoiselle, and covered with flue like a + mattress-picker; his nose is red, and he smells of brandy.—He is one + of those men who work half of the week at most.” + </p> + <p> + This uninviting picture had the effect of making Lisbeth hurry into the + courtyard of the house in the Rue Louis-le-Grand, where she found a man + smoking a pipe colored in a style that showed him an artist in tobacco. + </p> + <p> + “Why have you come here, Pere Chardin?” she asked. “It is understood that + you go, on the first Saturday in every month, to the gate of the Hotel + Marneffe, Rue Barbet-de-Jouy. I have just come back after waiting there + for five hours, and you did not come.” + </p> + <p> + “I did go there, good and charitable lady!” replied the mattress-picker. + “But there was a game at pool going on at the Cafe des Savants, Rue du + Cerf-Volant, and every man has his fancy. Now, mine is billiards. If it + wasn’t for billiards, I might be eating off silver plate. For, I tell you + this,” and he fumbled for a scrap of paper in his ragged trousers pocket, + “it is billiards that leads on to a dram and plum-brandy.—It is + ruinous, like all fine things, in the things it leads to. I know your + orders, but the old ‘un is in such a quandary that I came on to forbidden + grounds.—If the hair was all hair, we might sleep sound on it; but + it is mixed. God is not for all, as the saying goes. He has His favorites—well, + He has the right. Now, here is the writing of your estimable relative and + my very good friend—his political opinion.” + </p> + <p> + Chardin attempted to trace some zigzag lines in the air with the + forefinger of his right hand. + </p> + <p> + Lisbeth, not listening to him, read these few words: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “DEAR COUSIN,—Be my Providence; give me three hundred francs this + day. +</pre> + <h3> + “HECTOR.” + </h3> + <p> + “What does he want so much money for?” + </p> + <p> + “The lan’lord!” said Chardin, still trying to sketch arabesques. “And then + my son, you see, has come back from Algiers through Spain and Bayonee, + and, and—he has <i>found</i> nothing—against his rule, for a + sharp cove is my son, saving your presence. How can he help it, he is in + want of food; but he will repay all we lend him, for he is going to get up + a company. He has ideas, he has, that will carry him—” + </p> + <p> + “To the police court,” Lisbeth put in. “He murdered my uncle; I shall not + forget that.” + </p> + <p> + “He—why, he could not bleed a chicken, honorable lady.” + </p> + <p> + “Here are the three hundred francs,” said Lisbeth, taking fifteen gold + pieces out of her purse. “Now, go, and never come here again.” + </p> + <p> + She saw the father of the Oran storekeeper off the premises, and pointed + out the drunken old creature to the porter. + </p> + <p> + “At any time when that man comes here, if by chance he should come again, + do not let him in. If he should ask whether Monsieur Hulot junior or + Madame la Baronne Hulot lives here, tell him you know of no such persons.” + </p> + <p> + “Very good, mademoiselle.” + </p> + <p> + “Your place depends on it if you make any mistake, even without intending + it,” said Lisbeth, in the woman’s ear.—“Cousin,” she went on to + Victorin, who just now came in, “a great misfortune is hanging over your + head.” + </p> + <p> + “What is that?” said Victorin. + </p> + <p> + “Within a few days Madame Marneffe will be your wife’s stepmother.” + </p> + <p> + “That remains to be seen,” replied Victorin. + </p> + <p> + For six months past Lisbeth had very regularly paid a little allowance to + Baron Hulot, her former protector, whom she now protected; she knew the + secret of his dwelling-place, and relished Adeline’s tears, saying to her, + as we have seen, when she saw her cheerful and hopeful, “You may expect to + find my poor cousin’s name in the papers some day under the heading + ‘Police Report.’” + </p> + <p> + But in this, as on a former occasion, she let her vengeance carry her too + far. She had aroused the prudent suspicions of Victorin. He had resolved + to be rid of this Damocles’ sword so constantly flourished over them by + Lisbeth, and of the female demon to whom his mother and the family owed so + many woes. The Prince de Wissembourg, knowing all about Madame Marneffe’s + conduct, approved of the young lawyer’s secret project; he had promised + him, as a President of the Council can promise, the secret assistance of + the police, to enlighten Crevel and rescue a fine fortune from the + clutches of the diabolical courtesan, whom he could not forgive either for + causing the death of Marshal Hulot or for the Baron’s utter ruin. + </p> + <p> + The words spoken by Lisbeth, “He begs of his former mistresses,” haunted + the Baroness all night. Like sick men given over by the physicians, who + have recourse to quacks, like men who have fallen into the lowest + Dantesque circle of despair, or drowning creatures who mistake a floating + stick for a hawser, she ended by believing in the baseness of which the + mere idea had horrified her; and it occurred to her that she might apply + for help to one of those terrible women. + </p> + <p> + Next morning, without consulting her children or saying a word to anybody, + she went to see Mademoiselle Josepha Mirah, prima donna of the Royal + Academy of Music, to find or to lose the hope that had gleamed before her + like a will-o’-the-wisp. At midday, the great singer’s waiting-maid + brought her in the card of the Baronne Hulot, saying that this person was + waiting at the door, having asked whether Mademoiselle could receive her. + </p> + <p> + “Are the rooms done?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, mademoiselle.” + </p> + <p> + “And the flowers fresh?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, mademoiselle.” + </p> + <p> + “Just tell Jean to look round and see that everything is as it should be + before showing the lady in, and treat her with the greatest respect. Go, + and come back to dress me—I must look my very best.” + </p> + <p> + She went to study herself in the long glass. + </p> + <p> + “Now, to put our best foot foremost!” said she to herself. “Vice under + arms to meet virtue!—Poor woman, what can she want of me? I cannot + bear to see. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “The noble victim of outrageous fortune!” + </pre> + <p> + And she sang through the famous aria as the maid came in again. + </p> + <p> + “Madame,” said the girl, “the lady has a nervous trembling—” + </p> + <p> + “Offer her some orange-water, some rum, some broth—” + </p> + <p> + “I did, mademoiselle; but she declines everything, and says it is an + infirmity, a nervous complaint—” + </p> + <p> + “Where is she?” + </p> + <p> + “In the big drawing-room.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, make haste, child. Give me my smartest slippers, the dressing-gown + embroidered by Bijou, and no end of lace frills. Do my hair in a way to + astonish a woman.—This woman plays a part against mine; and tell the + lady—for she is a real, great lady, my girl, nay, more, she is what + you will never be, a woman whose prayers can rescue souls from your + purgatory—tell her I was in bed, as I was playing last night, and + that I am just getting up.” + </p> + <p> + The Baroness, shown into Josepha’s handsome drawing-room, did not note how + long she was kept waiting there, though it was a long half hour. This + room, entirely redecorated even since Josepha had had the house, was hung + with silk in purple and gold color. The luxury which fine gentlemen were + wont to lavish on their <i>petites maisons</i>, the scenes of their + profligacy, of which the remains still bear witness to the follies from + which they were so aptly named, was displayed to perfection, thanks to + modern inventiveness, in the four rooms opening into each other, where the + warm temperature was maintained by a system of hot-air pipes with + invisible openings. + </p> + <p> + The Baroness, quite bewildered, examined each work of art with the + greatest amazement. Here she found fortunes accounted for that melt in the + crucible under which pleasure and vanity feed the devouring flames. This + woman, who for twenty-six years had lived among the dead relics of + imperial magnificence, whose eyes were accustomed to carpets patterned + with faded flowers, rubbed gilding, silks as forlorn as her heart, half + understood the powerful fascinations of vice as she studied its results. + It was impossible not to wish to possess these beautiful things, these + admirable works of art, the creation of the unknown talent which abounds + in Paris in our day and produces treasures for all Europe. Each thing had + the novel charm of unique perfection. The models being destroyed, every + vase, every figure, every piece of sculpture was the original. This is the + crowning grace of modern luxury. To own the thing which is not vulgarized + by the two thousand wealthy citizens whose notion of luxury is the lavish + display of the splendors that shops can supply, is the stamp of true + luxury—the luxury of the fine gentlemen of the day, the shooting + stars of the Paris firmament. + </p> + <p> + As she examined the flower-stands, filled with the choicest exotic plants, + mounted in chased brass and inlaid in the style of Boulle, the Baroness + was scared by the idea of the wealth in this apartment. And this + impression naturally shed a glamour over the person round whom all this + profusion was heaped. Adeline imagined that Josepha Mirah—whose + portrait by Joseph Bridau was the glory of the adjoining boudoir—must + be a singer of genius, a Malibran, and she expected to see a real star. + She was sorry she had come. But she had been prompted by a strong and so + natural a feeling, by such purely disinterested devotion, that she + collected all her courage for the interview. Besides, she was about to + satisfy her urgent curiosity, to see for herself what was the charm of + this kind of women, that they could extract so much gold from the miserly + ore of Paris mud. + </p> + <p> + The Baroness looked at herself to see if she were not a blot on all this + splendor; but she was well dressed in her velvet gown, with a little cape + trimmed with beautiful lace, and her velvet bonnet of the same shade was + becoming. Seeing herself still as imposing as any queen, always a queen + even in her fall, she reflected that the dignity of sorrow was a match for + the dignity of talent. + </p> + <p> + At last, after much opening and shutting of doors, she saw Josepha. The + singer bore a strong resemblance to Allori’s <i>Judith</i>, which dwells + in the memory of all who have ever seen it in the Pitti palace, near the + door of one of the great rooms. She had the same haughty mien, the same + fine features, black hair simply knotted, and a yellow wrapper with little + embroidered flowers, exactly like the brocade worn by the immortal + homicide conceived of by Bronzino’s nephew. + </p> + <p> + “Madame la Baronne, I am quite overwhelmed by the honor you do me in + coming here,” said the singer, resolved to play her part as a great lady + with a grace. + </p> + <p> + She pushed forward an easy-chair for the Baroness and seated herself on a + stool. She discerned the faded beauty of the woman before her, and was + filled with pity as she saw her shaken by the nervous palsy that, on the + least excitement, became convulsive. She could read at a glance the + saintly life described to her of old by Hulot and Crevel; and she not only + ceased to think of a contest with her, she humiliated herself before a + superiority she appreciated. The great artist could admire what the + courtesan laughed to scorn. + </p> + <p> + “Mademoiselle, despair brought me here. It reduces us to any means—” + </p> + <p> + A look in Josepha’s face made the Baroness feel that she had wounded the + woman from whom she hoped for so much, and she looked at her. Her + beseeching eyes extinguished the flash in Josepha’s; the singer smiled. It + was a wordless dialogue of pathetic eloquence. + </p> + <p> + “It is now two years and a half since Monsieur Hulot left his family, and + I do not know where to find him, though I know that he lives in Paris,” + said the Baroness with emotion. “A dream suggested to me the idea—an + absurd one perhaps—that you may have interested yourself in Monsieur + Hulot. If you could enable me to see him—oh! mademoiselle, I would + pray Heaven for you every day as long as I live in this world—” + </p> + <p> + Two large tears in the singer’s eyes told what her reply would be. + </p> + <p> + “Madame,” said she, “I have done you an injury without knowing you; but, + now that I have the happiness of seeing in you the most perfect virtue on + earth, believe me I am sensible of the extent of my fault; I repent + sincerely, and believe me, I will do all in my power to remedy it!” + </p> + <p> + She took Madame Hulot’s hand and before the lady could do anything to + hinder her, she kissed it respectfully, even humbling herself to bend one + knee. Then she rose, as proud as when she stood on the stage in the part + of <i>Mathilde</i>, and rang the bell. + </p> + <p> + “Go on horseback,” said she to the man-servant, “and kill the horse if you + must, to find little Bijou, Rue Saint-Maur-du-Temple, and bring her here. + Put her into a coach and pay the coachman to come at a gallop. Do not lose + a moment—or you lose your place. + </p> + <p> + “Madame,” she went on, coming back to the Baroness, and speaking to her in + respectful tones, “you must forgive me. As soon as the Duc d’Herouville + became my protector, I dismissed the Baron, having heard that he was + ruining his family for me. What more could I do? In an actress’ career a + protector is indispensable from the first day of her appearance on the + boards. Our salaries do not pay half our expenses; we must have a + temporary husband. I did not value Monsieur Hulot, who took me away from a + rich man, a conceited idiot. Old Crevel would undoubtedly have married me—” + </p> + <p> + “So he told me,” said the Baroness, interrupting her. + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, you see, madame, I might at this day have been an honest + woman, with only one legitimate husband!” + </p> + <p> + “You have many excuses, mademoiselle,” said Adeline, “and God will take + them into account. But, for my part, far from reproaching you, I came, on + the contrary, to make myself your debtor in gratitude—” + </p> + <p> + “Madame, for nearly three years I have provided for Monsieur le Baron’s + necessities—” + </p> + <p> + “You?” interrupted the Baroness, with tears in her eyes. “Oh, what can I + do for you? I can only pray—” + </p> + <p> + “I and Monsieur le Duc d’Herouville,” the singer said, “a noble soul, a + true gentleman—” and Josepha related the settling and <i>marriage</i> + of Monsieur Thoul. + </p> + <p> + “And so, thanks to you, mademoiselle, the Baron has wanted nothing?” + </p> + <p> + “We have done our best to that end, madame.” + </p> + <p> + “And where is he now?” + </p> + <p> + “About six months ago, Monsieur le Duc told me that the Baron, known to + the notary by the name of Thoul, had drawn all the eight thousand francs + that were to have been paid to him in fixed sums once a quarter,” replied + Josepha. “We have heard no more of the Baron, neither I nor Monsieur + d’Herouville. Our lives are so full, we artists are so busy, that I really + have not time to run after old Thoul. As it happens, for the last six + months, Bijou, who works for me—his—what shall I say—?” + </p> + <p> + “His mistress,” said Madame Hulot. + </p> + <p> + “His mistress,” repeated Josepha, “has not been here. Mademoiselle Olympe + Bijou is perhaps divorced. Divorce is common in the thirteenth + arrondissement.” + </p> + <p> + Josepha rose, and foraging among the rare plants in her stands, made a + charming bouquet for Madame Hulot, whose expectations, it may be said, + were by no means fulfilled. Like those worthy fold, who take men of genius + to be a sort of monsters, eating, drinking, walking, and speaking unlike + other people, the Baroness had hoped to see Josepha the opera singer, the + witch, the amorous and amusing courtesan; she saw a calm and well-mannered + woman, with the dignity of talent, the simplicity of an actress who knows + herself to be at night a queen, and also, better than all, a woman of the + town whose eyes, attitude, and demeanor paid full and ungrudging homage to + the virtuous wife, the <i>Mater dolorosa</i> of the sacred hymn, and who + was crowning her sorrows with flowers, as the Madonna is crowned in Italy. + </p> + <p> + “Madame,” said the man-servant, reappearing at the end of half an hour, + “Madame Bijou is on her way, but you are not to expect little Olympe. Your + needle-woman, madame, is settled in life; she is married—” + </p> + <p> + “More or less?” said Josepha. + </p> + <p> + “No, madame, really married. She is at the head of a very fine business; + she has married the owner of a large and fashionable shop, on which they + have spent millions of francs, on the Boulevard des Italiens; and she has + left the embroidery business to her sister and mother. She is Madame + Grenouville. The fat tradesman—” + </p> + <p> + “A Crevel?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, madame,” said the man. “Well, he has settled thirty thousand francs + a year on Mademoiselle Bijou by the marriage articles. And her elder + sister, they say, is going to be married to a rich butcher.” + </p> + <p> + “Your business looks rather hopeless, I am afraid,” said Josepha to the + Baroness. “Monsieur le Baron is no longer where I lodged him.” + </p> + <p> + Ten minutes later Madame Bijou was announced. Josepha very prudently + placed the Baroness in the boudoir, and drew the curtain over the door. + </p> + <p> + “You would scare her,” said she to Madame Hulot. “She would let nothing + out if she suspected that you were interested in the information. Leave me + to catechise her. Hide there, and you will hear everything. It is a scene + that is played quite as often in real life as on the stage—” + </p> + <p> + “Well, Mother Bijou,” she said to an old woman dressed in tartan stuff, + and who looked like a porter’s wife in her Sunday best, “so you are all + very happy? Your daughter is in luck.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, happy? As for that!—My daughter gives us a hundred francs a + month, while she rides in a carriage and eats off silver plate—she + is a millionary, is my daughter! Olympe might have lifted me above labor. + To have to work at my age? Is that being good to me?” + </p> + <p> + “She ought not to be ungrateful, for she owes her beauty to you,” replied + Josepha; “but why did she not come to see me? It was I who placed her in + ease by settling her with my uncle.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, madame, with old Monsieur Thoul, but he is very old and broken—” + </p> + <p> + “But what have you done with him? Is he with you? She was very foolish to + leave him; he is worth millions now.” + </p> + <p> + “Heaven above us!” cried the mother. “What did I tell her when she behaved + so badly to him, and he as mild as milk, poor old fellow? Oh! didn’t she + just give it him hot?—Olympe was perverted, madame?” + </p> + <p> + “But how?” + </p> + <p> + “She got to know a <i>claqueur</i>, madame, saving your presence, a man + paid to clap, you know, the grand nephew of an old mattress-picker of the + Faubourg Saint-Marceau. This good-for-naught, as all your good-looking + fellows are, paid to make a piece go, is the cock of the walk out on the + Boulevard du Temple, where he works up the new plays, and takes care that + the actresses get a reception, as he calls it. First, he has a good + breakfast in the morning; then, before the play, he dines, to be ‘up to + the mark,’ as he says; in short, he is a born lover of billiards and + drams. ‘But that is not following a trade,’ as I said to Olympe.” + </p> + <p> + “It is a trade men follow, unfortunately,” said Josepha. + </p> + <p> + “Well, the rascal turned Olympe’s head, and he, madame, did not keep good + company—when I tell you he was very near being nabbed by the police + in a tavern where thieves meet. ‘Wever, Monsieur Braulard, the leader of + the claque, got him out of that. He wears gold earrings, and he lives by + doing nothing, hanging on to women, who are fools about these good-looking + scamps. He spent all the money Monsieur Thoul used to give the child. + </p> + <p> + “Then the business was going to grief; what embroidery brought in went out + across the billiard table. ‘Wever, the young fellow had a pretty sister, + madame, who, like her brother, lived by hook and by crook, and no better + than she should be neither, over in the students’ quarter.” + </p> + <p> + “One of the sluts at the Chaumiere,” said Josepha. + </p> + <p> + “So, madame,” said the old woman. “So Idamore, his name is Idamore, + leastways that is what he calls himself, for his real name is Chardin—Idamore + fancied that your uncle had a deal more money than he owned to, and he + managed to send his sister Elodie—and that was a stage name he gave + her—to send her to be a workwoman at our place, without my + daughter’s knowing who she was; and, gracious goodness! but that girl + turned the whole place topsy-turvy; she got all those poor girls into + mischief—impossible to whitewash them, saving your presence—— + </p> + <p> + “And she was so sharp, she won over poor old Thoul, and took him away, and + we don’t know where, and left us in a pretty fix, with a lot of bills + coming in. To this day as ever is we have not been able to settle up; but + my daughter, who knows all about such things, keeps an eye on them as they + fall due.—Then, when Idamore saw he had got hold of the old man, + through his sister, you understand, he threw over my daughter, and now he + has got hold of a little actress at the <i>Funambules</i>.—And that + was how my daughter came to get married, as you will see—” + </p> + <p> + “But you must know where the mattress-picker lives?” said Josepha. + </p> + <p> + “What! old Chardin? As if he lived anywhere at all!—He is drunk by + six in the morning; he makes a mattress once a month; he hangs about the + wineshops all day; he plays at pools—” + </p> + <p> + “He plays at pools?” said Josepha. + </p> + <p> + “You do not understand, madame, pools of billiards, I mean, and he wins + three or four a day, and then he drinks.” + </p> + <p> + “Water out of the pools, I suppose?” said Josepha. “But if Idamore haunts + the Boulevard, by inquiring through my friend Vraulard, we could find + him.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know, madame; all this was six months ago. Idamore was one of the + sort who are bound to find their way into the police courts, and from that + to Melun—and the—who knows—?” + </p> + <p> + “To the prison yard!” said Josepha. + </p> + <p> + “Well, madame, you know everything,” said the old woman, smiling. “Well, + if my girl had never known that scamp, she would now be—Still, she + was in luck, all the same, you will say, for Monsieur Grenouville fell so + much in love with her that he married her—” + </p> + <p> + “And what brought that about?” + </p> + <p> + “Olympe was desperate, madame. When she found herself left in the lurch + for that little actress—and she took a rod out of pickle for her, I + can tell you; my word, but she gave her a dressing!—and when she had + lost poor old Thoul, who worshiped her, she would have nothing more to say + to the men. ‘Wever, Monsieur Grenouville, who had been dealing largely + with us—to the tune of two hundred embroidered China-crape shawls + every quarter—he wanted to console her; but whether or no, she would + not listen to anything without the mayor and the priest. ‘I mean to be + respectable,’ said she, ‘or perish!’ and she stuck to it. Monsieur + Grenouville consented to marry her, on condition of her giving us all up, + and we agreed—” + </p> + <p> + “For a handsome consideration?” said Josepha, with her usual perspicacity. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, madame, ten thousand francs, and an allowance to my father, who is + past work.” + </p> + <p> + “I begged your daughter to make old Thoul happy, and she has thrown me + over. That is not fair. I will take no interest in any one for the future! + That is what comes of trying to do good! Benevolence certainly does not + answer as a speculation!—Olympe ought, at least, to have given me + notice of this jobbing. Now, if you find the old man Thoul within a + fortnight, I will give you a thousand francs.” + </p> + <p> + “It will be a hard task, my good lady; still, there are a good many + five-franc pieces in a thousand francs, and I will try to earn your + money.” + </p> + <p> + “Good-morning, then, Madame Bijou.” + </p> + <p> + On going into the boudoir, the singer found that Madame Hulot had fainted; + but in spite of having lost consciousness, her nervous trembling kept her + still perpetually shaking, as the pieces of a snake that has been cut up + still wriggle and move. Strong salts, cold water, and all the ordinary + remedies were applied to recall the Baroness to her senses, or rather, to + the apprehension of her sorrows. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! mademoiselle, how far has he fallen!” cried she, recognizing Josepha, + and finding that she was alone with her. + </p> + <p> + “Take heart, madame,” replied the actress, who had seated herself on a + cushion at Adeline’s feet, and was kissing her hands. “We shall find him; + and if he is in the mire, well, he must wash himself. Believe me, with + people of good breeding it is a matter of clothes.—Allow me to make + up for you the harm I have done you, for I see how much you are attached + to your husband, in spite of his misconduct—or you should not have + come here.—Well, you see, the poor man is so fond of women. If you + had had a little of our dash, you would have kept him from running about + the world; for you would have been what we can never be—all the + women man wants. + </p> + <p> + “The State ought to subsidize a school of manners for honest women! But + governments are so prudish! Still, they are guided by men, whom we + privately guide. My word, I pity nations! + </p> + <p> + “But the matter in question is how you can be helped, and not to laugh at + the world.—Well, madame, be easy, go home again, and do not worry. I + will bring your Hector back to you as he was as a man of thirty.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, mademoiselle, let us go to see that Madame Grenouville,” said the + Baroness. “She surely knows something! Perhaps I may see the Baron this + very day, and be able to snatch him at once from poverty and disgrace.” + </p> + <p> + “Madame, I will show you the deep gratitude I feel towards you by not + displaying the stage-singer Josepha, the Duc d’Herouville’s mistress, in + the company of the noblest, saintliest image of virtue. I respect you too + much to be seen by your side. This is not acted humility; it is sincere + homage. You make me sorry, madame, that I cannot tread in your footsteps, + in spite of the thorns that tear your feet and hands.—But it cannot + be helped! I am one with art, as you are one with virtue.” + </p> + <p> + “Poor child!” said the Baroness, moved amid her own sorrows by a strange + sense of compassionate sympathy; “I will pray to God for you; for you are + the victim of society, which must have theatres. When you are old, repent—you + will be heard if God vouchsafes to hear the prayers of a—” + </p> + <p> + “Of a martyr, madame,” Josepha put in, and she respectfully kissed the + Baroness’ skirt. + </p> + <p> + But Adeline took the actress’ hand, and drawing her towards her, kissed + her on the forehead. Coloring with pleasure Josepha saw the Baroness into + the hackney coach with the humblest politeness. + </p> + <p> + “It must be some visiting Lady of Charity,” said the man-servant to the + maid, “for she does not do so much for any one, not even for her dear + friend Madame Jenny Cadine.” + </p> + <p> + “Wait a few days,” said she, “and you will see him, madame, or I renounce + the God of my fathers—and that from a Jewess, you know, is a promise + of success.” + </p> + <p> + At the very time when Madame Hulot was calling on Josepha, Victorin, in + his study, was receiving an old woman of about seventy-five, who, to gain + admission to the lawyer, had used the terrible name of the head of the + detective force. The man in waiting announced: + </p> + <p> + “Madame de Saint-Esteve.” + </p> + <p> + “I have assumed one of my business names,” said she, taking a seat. + </p> + <p> + Victorin felt a sort of internal chill at the sight of this dreadful old + woman. Though handsomely dressed, she was terrible to look upon, for her + flat, colorless, strongly-marked face, furrowed with wrinkles, expressed a + sort of cold malignity. Marat, as a woman of that age, might have been + like this creature, a living embodiment of the Reign of Terror. + </p> + <p> + This sinister old woman’s small, pale eyes twinkled with a tiger’s + bloodthirsty greed. Her broad, flat nose, with nostrils expanded into oval + cavities, breathed the fires of hell, and resembled the beak of some evil + bird of prey. The spirit of intrigue lurked behind her low, cruel brow. + Long hairs had grown from her wrinkled chin, betraying the masculine + character of her schemes. Any one seeing that woman’s face would have said + that artists had failed in their conceptions of Mephistopheles. + </p> + <p> + “My dear sir,” she began, with a patronizing air, “I have long since given + up active business of any kind. What I have come to you to do, I have + undertaken, for the sake of my dear nephew, whom I love more than I could + love a son of my own.—Now, the Head of the Police—to whom the + President of the Council said a few words in his ear as regards yourself, + in talking to Monsieur Chapuzot—thinks as the police ought not to + appear in a matter of this description, you understand. They gave my + nephew a free hand, but my nephew will have nothing to say to it, except + as before the Council; he will not be seen in it.” + </p> + <p> + “Then your nephew is—” + </p> + <p> + “You have hit it, and I am rather proud of him,” said she, interrupting + the lawyer, “for he is my pupil, and he soon could teach his teacher.—We + have considered this case, and have come to our own conclusions. Will you + hand over thirty thousand francs to have the whole thing taken off your + hands? I will make a clean sweep of all, and you need not pay till the job + is done.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you know the persons concerned?” + </p> + <p> + “No, my dear sir; I look for information from you. What we are told is, + that a certain old idiot has fallen into the clutches of a widow. This + widow, of nine-and-twenty, has played her cards so well, that she has + forty thousand francs a year, of which she has robbed two fathers of + families. She is now about to swallow down eighty thousand francs a year + by marrying an old boy of sixty-one. She will thus ruin a respectable + family, and hand over this vast fortune to the child of some lover by + getting rid at once of the old husband.—That is the case as stated.” + </p> + <p> + “Quite correct,” said Victorin. “My father-in-law, Monsieur Crevel—” + </p> + <p> + “Formerly a perfumer, a mayor—yes, I live in his district under the + name of Ma’ame Nourrisson,” said the woman. + </p> + <p> + “The other person is Madame Marneffe.” + </p> + <p> + “I do not know,” said Madame de Saint-Esteve. “But within three days I + will be in a position to count her shifts.” + </p> + <p> + “Can you hinder the marriage?” asked Victorin. + </p> + <p> + “How far have they got?” + </p> + <p> + “To the second time of asking.” + </p> + <p> + “We must carry off the woman.—To-day is Sunday—there are but + three days, for they will be married on Wednesday, no doubt; it is + impossible.—But she may be killed—” + </p> + <p> + Victorin Hulot started with an honest man’s horror at hearing these five + words uttered in cold blood. + </p> + <p> + “Murder?” said he. “And how could you do it?” + </p> + <p> + “For forty years, now, monsieur, we have played the part of fate,” replied + she, with terrible pride, “and do just what we will in Paris. More than + one family—even in the Faubourg Saint-Germain—has told me all + its secrets, I can tell you. I have made and spoiled many a match, I have + destroyed many a will and saved many a man’s honor. I have in there,” and + she tapped her forehead, “a store of secrets which are worth thirty-six + thousand francs a year to me; and you—you will be one of my lambs, + hoh! Could such a woman as I am be what I am if she revealed her ways and + means? I act. + </p> + <p> + “Whatever I may do, sir, will be the result of an accident; you need feel + no remorse. You will be like a man cured by a clairvoyant; by the end of a + month, it seems all the work of Nature.” + </p> + <p> + Victorin broke out in a cold sweat. The sight of an executioner would have + shocked him less than this prolix and pretentious Sister of the Hulks. As + he looked at her purple-red gown, she seemed to him dyed in blood. + </p> + <p> + “Madame, I do not accept the help of your experience and skill if success + is to cost anybody’s life, or the least criminal act is to come of it.” + </p> + <p> + “You are a great baby, monsieur,” replied the woman; “you wish to remain + blameless in your own eyes, while you want your enemy to be overthrown.” + </p> + <p> + Victorin shook his head in denial. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she went on, “you want this Madame Marneffe to drop the prey she + has between her teeth. But how do you expect to make a tiger drop his + piece of beef? Can you do it by patting his back and saying, ‘Poor Puss’? + You are illogical. You want a battle fought, but you object to blows.—Well, + I grant you the innocence you are so careful over. I have always found + that there was material for hypocrisy in honesty! One day, three months + hence, a poor priest will come to beg of you forty thousand francs for a + pious work—a convent to be rebuilt in the Levant—in the + desert.—If you are satisfied with your lot, give the good man the + money. You will pay more than that into the treasury. It will be a mere + trifle in comparison with what you will get, I can tell you.” + </p> + <p> + She rose, standing on the broad feet that seemed to overflow her satin + shoes; she smiled, bowed, and vanished. + </p> + <p> + “The Devil has a sister,” said Victorin, rising. + </p> + <p> + He saw the hideous stranger to the door, a creature called up from the + dens of the police, as on the stage a monster comes up from the third + cellar at the touch of a fairy’s wand in a ballet-extravaganza. + </p> + <p> + After finishing what he had to do at the Courts, Victorin went to call on + Monsieur Chapuzot, the head of one of the most important branches of the + Central Police, to make some inquiries about the stranger. Finding + Monsieur Chapuzot alone in his office, Victorin thanked him for his help. + </p> + <p> + “You sent me an old woman who might stand for the incarnation of the + criminal side of Paris.” + </p> + <p> + Monsieur Chapuzot laid his spectacles on his papers and looked at the + lawyer with astonishment. + </p> + <p> + “I should not have taken the liberty of sending anybody to see you without + giving you notice beforehand, or a line of introduction,” said he. + </p> + <p> + “Then it was Monsieur le Prefet—?” + </p> + <p> + “I think not,” said Chapuzot. “The last time that the Prince de + Wissembourg dined with the Minister of the Interior, he spoke to the + Prefet of the position in which you find yourself—a deplorable + position—and asked him if you could be helped in any friendly way. + The Prefet, who was interested by the regrets his Excellency expressed as + to this family affair, did me the honor to consult me about it. + </p> + <p> + “Ever since the present Prefet has held the reins of this department—so + useful and so vilified—he has made it a rule that family matters are + never to be interfered in. He is right in principle and in morality; but + in practice he is wrong. In the forty-five years that I have served in the + police, it did, from 1799 till 1815, great services in family concerns. + Since 1820 a constitutional government and the press have completely + altered the conditions of existence. So my advice, indeed, was not to + intervene in such a case, and the Prefet did me the honor to agree with my + remarks. The Head of the detective branch has orders, in my presence, to + take no steps; so if you have had any one sent to you by him, he will be + reprimanded. It might cost him his place. ‘The Police will do this or + that,’ is easily said; the Police, the Police! But, my dear sir, the + Marshal and the Ministerial Council do not know what the Police is. The + Police alone knows the Police; but as for ours, only Fouche, Monsieur + Lenoir, and Monsieur de Sartines have had any notion of it.—Everything + is changed now; we are reduced and disarmed! I have seen many private + disasters develop, which I could have checked with five grains of despotic + power.—We shall be regretted by the very men who have crippled us + when they, like you, stand face to face with some moral monstrosities, + which ought to be swept away as we sweep away mud! In public affairs the + Police is expected to foresee everything, or when the safety of the public + is involved—but the family?—It is sacred! I would do my utmost + to discover and hinder a plot against the King’s life, I would see through + the walls of a house; but as to laying a finger on a household, or peeping + into private interests—never, so long as I sit in this office. I + should be afraid.” + </p> + <p> + “Of what?” + </p> + <p> + “Of the Press, Monsieur le Depute, of the left centre.” + </p> + <p> + “What, then, can I do?” said Hulot, after a pause. + </p> + <p> + “Well, you are the Family,” said the official. “That settles it; you can + do what you please. But as to helping you, as to using the Police as an + instrument of private feelings, and interests, how is it possible? There + lies, you see, the secret of the persecution, necessary, but pronounced + illegal, by the Bench, which was brought to bear against the predecessor + of our present chief detective. Bibi-Lupin undertook investigations for + the benefit of private persons. This might have led to great social + dangers. With the means at his command, the man would have been + formidable, an underlying fate—” + </p> + <p> + “But in my place?” said Hulot. + </p> + <p> + “Why, you ask my advice? You who sell it!” replied Monsieur Chapuzot. + “Come, come, my dear sir, you are making fun of me.” + </p> + <p> + Hulot bowed to the functionary, and went away without seeing that + gentleman’s almost imperceptible shrug as he rose to open the door. + </p> + <p> + “And he wants to be a statesman!” said Chapuzot to himself as he returned + to his reports. + </p> + <p> + Victorin went home, still full of perplexities which he could confide to + no one. + </p> + <p> + At dinner the Baroness joyfully announced to her children that within a + month their father might be sharing their comforts, and end his days in + peace among his family. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I would gladly give my three thousand six hundred francs a year to + see the Baron here!” cried Lisbeth. “But, my dear Adeline, do not dream + beforehand of such happiness, I entreat you!” + </p> + <p> + “Lisbeth is right,” said Celestine. “My dear mother, wait till the end.” + </p> + <p> + The Baroness, all feeling and all hope, related her visit to Josepha, + expressed her sense of the misery of such women in the midst of good + fortune, and mentioned Chardin the mattress-picker, the father of the Oran + storekeeper, thus showing that her hopes were not groundless. + </p> + <p> + By seven next morning Lisbeth had driven in a hackney coach to the Quai de + la Tournelle, and stopped the vehicle at the corner of the Rue de Poissy. + </p> + <p> + “Go to the Rue des Bernardins,” said she to the driver, “No. 7, a house + with an entry and no porter. Go up to the fourth floor, ring at the door + to the left, on which you will see ‘Mademoiselle Chardin—Lace and + shawls mended.’ She will answer the door. Ask for the Chevalier. She will + say he is out. Say in reply, ‘Yes, I know, but find him, for his <i>bonne</i> + is out on the quay in a coach, and wants to see him.’” + </p> + <p> + Twenty minutes later, an old man, who looked about eighty, with perfectly + white hair, and a nose reddened by the cold, and a pale, wrinkled face + like an old woman’s, came shuffling slowly along in list slippers, a shiny + alpaca overcoat hanging on his stooping shoulders, no ribbon at his + buttonhole, the sleeves of an under-vest showing below his coat-cuffs, and + his shirt-front unpleasantly dingy. He approached timidly, looked at the + coach, recognized Lisbeth, and came to the window. + </p> + <p> + “Why, my dear cousin, what a state you are in!” + </p> + <p> + “Elodie keeps everything for herself,” said Baron Hulot. “Those Chardins + are a blackguard crew.” + </p> + <p> + “Will you come home to us?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no, no!” cried the old man. “I would rather go to America.” + </p> + <p> + “Adeline is on the scent.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, if only some one would pay my debts!” said the Baron, with a + suspicious look, “for Samanon is after me.” + </p> + <p> + “We have not paid up the arrears yet; your son still owes a hundred + thousand francs.” + </p> + <p> + “Poor boy!” + </p> + <p> + “And your pension will not be free before seven or eight months.—If + you will wait a minute, I have two thousand francs here.” + </p> + <p> + The Baron held out his hand with fearful avidity. + </p> + <p> + “Give it me, Lisbeth, and may God reward you! Give it me; I know where to + go.” + </p> + <p> + “But you will tell me, old wretch?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes. Then I can wait eight months, for I have discovered a little + angel, a good child, an innocent thing not old enough to be depraved.” + </p> + <p> + “Do not forget the police-court,” said Lisbeth, who flattered herself that + she would some day see Hulot there. + </p> + <p> + “No.—It is in the Rue de Charonne,” said the Baron, “a part of the + town where no fuss is made about anything. No one will ever find me there. + I am called Pere Thorec, Lisbeth, and I shall be taken for a retired + cabinet-maker; the girl is fond of me, and I will not allow my back to be + shorn any more.” + </p> + <p> + “No, that has been done,” said Lisbeth, looking at his coat. “Supposing I + take you there.” + </p> + <p> + Baron Hulot got into the coach, deserting Mademoiselle Elodie without + taking leave of her, as he might have tossed aside a novel he had + finished. + </p> + <p> + In half an hour, during which Baron Hulot talked to Lisbeth of nothing but + little Atala Judici—for he had fallen by degrees to those base + passions that ruin old men—she set him down with two thousand francs + in his pocket, in the Rue de Charonne, Faubourg Saint-Antoine, at the door + of a doubtful and sinister-looking house. + </p> + <p> + “Good-day, cousin; so now you are to be called Thorec, I suppose? Send + none but commissionaires if you need me, and always take them from + different parts.” + </p> + <p> + “Trust me! Oh, I am really very lucky!” said the Baron, his face beaming + with the prospect of new and future happiness. + </p> + <p> + “No one can find him there,” said Lisbeth; and she paid the coach at the + Boulevard Beaumarchais, and returned to the Rue Louis-le-Grand in the + omnibus. + </p> + <p> + On the following day Crevel was announced at the hour when all the family + were together in the drawing-room, just after breakfast. Celestine flew to + throw her arms round her father’s neck, and behaved as if she had seen him + only the day before, though in fact he had not called there for more than + two years. + </p> + <p> + “Good-morning, father,” said Victorin, offering his hand. + </p> + <p> + “Good-morning, children,” said the pompous Crevel. “Madame la Baronne, I + throw myself at your feet! Good Heavens, how the children grow! they are + pushing us off the perch—‘Grand-pa,’ they say, ‘we want our turn in + the sunshine.’—Madame la Comtesse, you are as lovely as ever,” he + went on, addressing Hortense.—“Ah, ha! and here is the best of good + money: Cousin Betty, the Wise Virgin.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, you are really very comfortable here,” said he, after scattering + these greetings with a cackle of loud laughter that hardly moved the + rubicund muscles of his broad face. + </p> + <p> + He looked at his daughter with some contempt. + </p> + <p> + “My dear Celestine, I will make you a present of all my furniture out of + the Rue des Saussayes; it will just do here. Your drawing-room wants + furnishing up.—Ha! there is that little rogue Wenceslas. Well, and + are we very good children, I wonder? You must have pretty manners, you + know.” + </p> + <p> + “To make up for those who have none,” said Lisbeth. + </p> + <p> + “That sarcasm, my dear Lisbeth, has lost its sting. I am going, my dear + children, to put an end to the false position in which I have so long been + placed; I have come, like a good father, to announce my approaching + marriage without any circumlocution.” + </p> + <p> + “You have a perfect right to marry,” said Victorin. “And for my part, I + give you back the promise you made me when you gave me the hand of my dear + Celestine—” + </p> + <p> + “What promise?” said Crevel. + </p> + <p> + “Not to marry,” replied the lawyer. “You will do me the justice to allow + that I did not ask you to pledge yourself, that you gave your word quite + voluntarily and in spite of my desire, for I pointed out to you at the + time that you were unwise to bind yourself.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I do remember, my dear fellow,” said Crevel, ashamed of himself. + “But, on my honor, if you will but live with Madame Crevel, my children, + you will find no reason to repent.—Your good feeling touches me, + Victorin, and you will find that generosity to me is not unrewarded.—Come, + by the Poker! welcome your stepmother and come to the wedding.” + </p> + <p> + “But you have not told us the lady’s name, papa,” said Celestine. + </p> + <p> + “Why, it is an open secret,” replied Crevel. “Do not let us play at guess + who can! Lisbeth must have told you.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear Monsieur Crevel,” replied Lisbeth, “there are certain names we + never utter here—” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, it is Madame Marneffe.” + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur Crevel,” said the lawyer very sternly, “neither my wife nor I + can be present at that marriage; not out of interest, for I spoke in all + sincerity just now. Yes, I am most happy to think that you may find + happiness in this union; but I act on considerations of honor and good + feeling which you must understand, and which I cannot speak of here, as + they reopen wounds still ready to bleed——” + </p> + <p> + The Baroness telegraphed a signal to Hortense, who tucked her little one + under her arm, saying, “Come Wenceslas, and have your bath!—Good-bye, + Monsieur Crevel.” + </p> + <p> + The Baroness also bowed to Crevel without a word; and Crevel could not + help smiling at the child’s astonishment when threatened with this + impromptu tubbing. + </p> + <p> + “You, monsieur,” said Victorin, when he found himself alone with Lisbeth, + his wife, and his father-in-law, “are about to marry a woman loaded with + the spoils of my father; it was she who, in cold blood, brought him down + to such depths; a woman who is the son-in-law’s mistress after ruining the + father-in-law; who is the cause of constant grief to my sister!—And + you fancy that I shall seem to sanction your madness by my presence? I + deeply pity you, dear Monsieur Crevel; you have no family feeling; you do + not understand the unity of the honor which binds the members of it + together. There is no arguing with passion—as I have too much reason + to know. The slaves of their passions are as deaf as they are blind. Your + daughter Celestine has too strong a sense of her duty to proffer a word of + reproach.” + </p> + <p> + “That would, indeed, be a pretty thing!” cried Crevel, trying to cut short + this harangue. + </p> + <p> + “Celestine would not be my wife if she made the slightest remonstrance,” + the lawyer went on. “But I, at least, may try to stop you before you step + over the precipice, especially after giving you ample proof of my + disinterestedness. It is not your fortune, it is you that I care about. + Nay, to make it quite plain to you, I may add, if it were only to set your + mind at ease with regard to your marriage contract, that I am now in a + position which leaves me with nothing to wish for—” + </p> + <p> + “Thanks to me!” exclaimed Crevel, whose face was purple. + </p> + <p> + “Thanks to Celestine’s fortune,” replied Victorin. “And if you regret + having given to your daughter as a present from yourself, a sum which is + not half what her mother left her, I can only say that we are prepared to + give it back.” + </p> + <p> + “And do you not know, my respected son-in-law,” said Crevel, striking an + attitude, “that under the shelter of my name Madame Marneffe is not called + upon to answer for her conduct excepting as my wife—as Madame + Crevel?” + </p> + <p> + “That is, no doubt, quite the correct thing,” said the lawyer; “very + generous so far as the affections are concerned and the vagaries of + passion; but I know of no name, nor law, nor title that can shelter the + theft of three hundred thousand francs so meanly wrung from my father!—I + tell you plainly, my dear father-in-law, your future wife is unworthy of + you, she is false to you, and is madly in love with my brother-in-law, + Steinbock, whose debts she had paid.” + </p> + <p> + “It is I who paid them!” + </p> + <p> + “Very good,” said Hulot; “I am glad for Count Steinbock’s sake; he may + some day repay the money. But he is loved, much loved, and often—” + </p> + <p> + “Loved!” cried Crevel, whose face showed his utter bewilderment. “It is + cowardly, and dirty, and mean, and cheap, to calumniate a woman!—When + a man says such things, monsieur, he must bring proof.” + </p> + <p> + “I will bring proof.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall expect it.” + </p> + <p> + “By the day after to-morrow, my dear Monsieur Crevel, I shall be able to + tell you the day, the hour, the very minute when I can expose the horrible + depravity of your future wife.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well; I shall be delighted,” said Crevel, who had recovered himself. + </p> + <p> + “Good-bye, my children, for the present; good-bye, Lisbeth.” + </p> + <p> + “See him out, Lisbeth,” said Celestine in an undertone. + </p> + <p> + “And is this the way you take yourself off?” cried Lisbeth to Crevel. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, ha!” said Crevel, “my son-in-law is too clever by half; he is getting + on. The Courts and the Chamber, judicial trickery and political dodges, + are making a man of him with a vengeance!—So he knows I am to be + married on Wednesday, and on a Sunday my gentleman proposes to fix the + hour, within three days, when he can prove that my wife is unworthy of me. + That is a good story!—Well, I am going back to sign the contract. + Come with me, Lisbeth—yes, come. They will never know. I meant to + have left Celestine forty thousand francs a year; but Hulot has just + behaved in a way to alienate my affection for ever.” + </p> + <p> + “Give me ten minutes, Pere Crevel; wait for me in your carriage at the + gate. I will make some excuse for going out.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well—all right.” + </p> + <p> + “My dears,” said Lisbeth, who found all the family reassembled in the + drawing-room, “I am going with Crevel: the marriage contract is to be + signed this afternoon, and I shall hear what he has settled. It will + probably be my last visit to that woman. Your father is furious; he will + disinherit you—” + </p> + <p> + “His vanity will prevent that,” said the son-in-law. “He was bent on + owning the estate of Presles, and he will keep it; I know him. Even if he + were to have children, Celestine would still have half of what he might + leave; the law forbids his giving away all his fortune.—Still, these + questions are nothing to me; I am only thinking of our honor.—Go + then, cousin,” and he pressed Lisbeth’s hand, “and listen carefully to the + contract.” + </p> + <p> + Twenty minutes after, Lisbeth and Crevel reached the house in the Rue + Barbet, where Madame Marneffe was awaiting, in mild impatience, the result + of a step taken by her commands. Valerie had in the end fallen a prey to + the absorbing love which, once in her life, masters a woman’s heart. + Wenceslas was its object, and, a failure as an artist, he became in Madame + Marneffe’s hands a lover so perfect that he was to her what she had been + to Baron Hulot. + </p> + <p> + Valerie was holding a slipper in one hand, and Steinbock clasped the + other, while her head rested on his shoulder. The rambling conversation in + which they had been engaged ever since Crevel went out may be ticketed, + like certain lengthy literary efforts of our day, “<i>All rights reserved</i>,” + for it cannot be reproduced. This masterpiece of personal poetry naturally + brought a regret to the artist’s lips, and he said, not without some + bitterness: + </p> + <p> + “What a pity it is that I married; for if I had but waited, as Lisbeth + told me, I might now have married you.” + </p> + <p> + “Who but a Pole would wish to make a wife of a devoted mistress?” cried + Valerie. “To change love into duty, and pleasure into a bore.” + </p> + <p> + “I know you to be so fickle,” replied Steinbock. “Did I not hear you + talking to Lisbeth of that Brazilian, Baron Montes?” + </p> + <p> + “Do you want to rid me of him?” + </p> + <p> + “It would be the only way to hinder his seeing you,” said the ex-sculptor. + </p> + <p> + “Let me tell you, my darling—for I tell you everything,” said + Valerie—“I was saving him up for a husband.—The promises I + have made to that man!—Oh, long before I knew you,” said she, in + reply to a movement from Wenceslas. “And those promises, of which he + avails himself to plague me, oblige me to get married almost secretly; for + if he should hear that I am marrying Crevel, he is the sort of man that—that + would kill me.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, as to that!” said Steinbock, with a scornful expression, which + conveyed that such a danger was small indeed for a woman beloved by a + Pole. + </p> + <p> + And in the matter of valor there is no brag or bravado in a Pole, so + thoroughly and seriously brave are they all. + </p> + <p> + “And that idiot Crevel,” she went on, “who wants to make a great display + and indulge his taste for inexpensive magnificence in honor of the + wedding, places me in difficulties from which I see no escape.” + </p> + <p> + Could Valerie confess to this man, whom she adored, that since the + discomfiture of Baron Hulot, this Baron Henri Montes had inherited the + privilege of calling on her at all hours of the day or night; and that, + notwithstanding her cleverness, she was still puzzled to find a cause of + quarrel in which the Brazilian might seem to be solely in the wrong? She + knew the Baron’s almost savage temper—not unlike Lisbeth’s—too + well not to quake as she thought of this Othello of Rio de Janeiro. + </p> + <p> + As the carriage drove up, Steinbock released Valerie, for his arm was + round her waist, and took up a newspaper, in which he was found absorbed. + Valerie was stitching with elaborate care at the slippers she was working + for Crevel. + </p> + <p> + “How they slander her!” whispered Lisbeth to Crevel, pointing to this + picture as they opened the door. “Look at her hair—not in the least + tumbled. To hear Victorin, you might have expected to find two + turtle-doves in a nest.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear Lisbeth,” cried Crevel, in his favorite position, “you see that + to turn Lucretia into Aspasia, you have only to inspire a passion!” + </p> + <p> + “And have I not always told you,” said Lisbeth, “that women like a burly + profligate like you?” + </p> + <p> + “And she would be most ungrateful, too,” said Crevel; “for as to the money + I have spent here, Grindot and I alone can tell!” + </p> + <p> + And he waved a hand at the staircase. + </p> + <p> + In decorating this house, which Crevel regarded as his own, Grindot had + tried to compete with Cleretti, in whose hands the Duc d’Herouville had + placed Josepha’s villa. But Crevel, incapable of understanding art, had, + like all sordid souls, wanted to spend a certain sum fixed beforehand. + Grindot, fettered by a contract, had found it impossible to embody his + architectural dream. + </p> + <p> + The difference between Josepha’s house and that in the Rue Barbet was just + that between the individual stamp on things and commonness. The objects + you admired at Crevel’s were to be bought in any shop. These two types of + luxury are divided by the river Million. A mirror, if unique, is worth six + thousand francs; a mirror designed by a manufacturer who turns them out by + the dozen costs five hundred. A genuine lustre by Boulle will sell at a + public auction for three thousand francs; the same thing reproduced by + casting may be made for a thousand or twelve hundred; one is + archaeologically what a picture by Raphael is in painting, the other is a + copy. At what would you value a copy of a Raphael? Thus Crevel’s mansion + was a splendid example of the luxury of idiots, while Josepha’s was a + perfect model of an artist’s home. + </p> + <p> + “War is declared,” said Crevel, going up to Madame Marneffe. + </p> + <p> + She rang the bell. + </p> + <p> + “Go and find Monsieur Berthier,” said she to the man-servant, “and do not + return without him. If you had succeeded,” said she, embracing Crevel, “we + would have postponed our happiness, my dear Daddy, and have given a really + splendid entertainment; but when a whole family is set against a match, my + dear, decency requires that the wedding shall be a quiet one, especially + when the lady is a widow.” + </p> + <p> + “On the contrary, I intend to make a display of magnificence <i>a la</i> + Louis XIV.,” said Crevel, who of late had held the eighteenth century + rather cheap. “I have ordered new carriages; there is one for monsieur and + one for madame, two neat coupes; and a chaise, a handsome traveling + carriage with a splendid hammercloth, on springs that tremble like Madame + Hulot.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, ho! <i>You intend?</i>—Then you have ceased to be my lamb?—No, + no, my friend, you will do what <i>I</i> intend. We will sign the contract + quietly—just ourselves—this afternoon. Then, on Wednesday, we + will be regularly married, really married, in mufti, as my poor mother + would have said. We will walk to church, plainly dressed, and have only a + low mass. Our witnesses are Stidmann, Steinbock, Vignon, and Massol, all + wide-awake men, who will be at the mairie by chance, and who will so far + sacrifice themselves as to attend mass. + </p> + <p> + “Your colleague will perform the civil marriage, for once in a way, as + early as half-past nine. Mass is at ten; we shall be at home to breakfast + by half-past eleven. + </p> + <p> + “I have promised our guests that we will sit at table till the evening. + There will be Bixiou, your old official chum du Tillet, Lousteau, + Vernisset, Leon de Lora, Vernou, all the wittiest men in Paris, who will + not know that we are married. We will play them a little trick, we will + get just a little tipsy, and Lisbeth must join us. I want her to study + matrimony; Bixiou shall make love to her, and—and enlighten her + darkness.” + </p> + <p> + For two hours Madame Marneffe went on talking nonsense, and Crevel made + this judicious reflection: + </p> + <p> + “How can so light-hearted a creature be utterly depraved? Feather-brained, + yes! but wicked? Nonsense!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, and what did the young people say about me?” said Valerie to Crevel + at a moment when he sat down by her on the sofa. “All sorts of horrors?” + </p> + <p> + “They will have it that you have a criminal passion for Wenceslas—you, + who are virtue itself.” + </p> + <p> + “I love him!—I should think so, my little Wenceslas!” cried Valerie, + calling the artist to her, taking his face in her hands, and kissing his + forehead. “A poor boy with no fortune, and no one to depend on! Cast off + by a carrotty giraffe! What do you expect, Crevel? Wenceslas is my poet, + and I love him as if he were my own child, and make no secret of it. Bah! + your virtuous women see evil everywhere and in everything. Bless me, could + they not sit by a man without doing wrong? I am a spoilt child who has had + all it ever wanted, and bonbons no longer excite me.—Poor things! I + am sorry for them! + </p> + <p> + “And who slandered me so?” + </p> + <p> + “Victorin,” said Crevel. + </p> + <p> + “Then why did you not stop his mouth, the odious legal macaw! with the + story of the two hundred thousand francs and his mamma?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, the Baroness had fled,” said Lisbeth. + </p> + <p> + “They had better take care, Lisbeth,” said Madame Marneffe, with a frown. + “Either they will receive me and do it handsomely, and come to their + stepmother’s house—all the party!—or I will see them in lower + depths than the Baron has reached, and you may tell them I said so!—At + last I shall turn nasty. On my honor, I believe that evil is the scythe + with which to cut down the good.” + </p> + <p> + At three o’clock Monsieur Berthier, Cardot’s successor, read the + marriage-contract, after a short conference with Crevel, for some of the + articles were made conditional on the action taken by Monsieur and Madame + Victorin Hulot. + </p> + <p> + Crevel settled on his wife a fortune consisting, in the first place, of + forty thousand francs in dividends on specified securities; secondly, of + the house and all its contents; and thirdly, of three million francs not + invested. He also assigned to his wife every benefit allowed by law; he + left all the property free of duty; and in the event of their dying + without issue, each devised to the survivor the whole of their property + and real estate. + </p> + <p> + By this arrangement the fortune left to Celestine and her husband was + reduced to two millions of francs in capital. If Crevel and his second + wife should have children, Celestine’s share was limited to five hundred + thousand francs, as the life-interest in the rest was to accrue to + Valerie. This would be about the ninth part of his whole real and personal + estate. + </p> + <p> + Lisbeth returned to dine in the Rue Louis-le-Grand, despair written on her + face. She explained and bewailed the terms of the marriage-contract, but + found Celestine and her husband insensible to the disastrous news. + </p> + <p> + “You have provoked your father, my children. Madame Marneffe swears that + you shall receive Monsieur Crevel’s wife and go to her house,” said she. + </p> + <p> + “Never!” said Victorin. + </p> + <p> + “Never!” said Celestine. + </p> + <p> + “Never!” said Hortense. + </p> + <p> + Lisbeth was possessed by the wish to crush the haughty attitude assumed by + all the Hulots. + </p> + <p> + “She seems to have arms that she can turn against you,” she replied. “I do + not know all about it, but I shall find out. She spoke vaguely of some + history of two hundred thousand francs in which Adeline is implicated.” + </p> + <p> + The Baroness fell gently backward on the sofa she was sitting on in a fit + of hysterical sobbing. + </p> + <p> + “Go there, go, my children!” she cried. “Receive the woman! Monsieur + Crevel is an infamous wretch. He deserves the worst punishment imaginable.—Do + as the woman desires you! She is a monster—she knows all!” + </p> + <p> + After gasping out these words with tears and sobs, Madame Hulot collected + her strength to go to her room, leaning on her daughter and Celestine. + </p> + <p> + “What is the meaning of all this?” cried Lisbeth, left alone with + Victorin. + </p> + <p> + The lawyer stood rigid, in very natural dismay, and did not hear her. + </p> + <p> + “What is the matter, my dear Victorin?” + </p> + <p> + “I am horrified!” said he, and his face scowled darkly. “Woe to anybody + who hurts my mother! I have no scruples then. I would crush that woman + like a viper if I could!—What, does she attack my mother’s life, my + mother’s honor?” + </p> + <p> + “She said, but do not repeat it, my dear Victorin—she said you + should all fall lower even than your father. And she scolded Crevel + roundly for not having shut your mouths with this secret that seems to be + such a terror to Adeline.” + </p> + <p> + A doctor was sent for, for the Baroness was evidently worse. He gave her a + draught containing a large dose of opium, and Adeline, having swallowed + it, fell into a deep sleep; but the whole family were greatly alarmed. + </p> + <p> + Early next morning Victorin went out, and on his way to the Courts called + at the Prefecture of the Police, where he begged Vautrin, the head of the + detective department, to send him Madame de Saint-Esteve. + </p> + <p> + “We are forbidden, monsieur, to meddle in your affairs; but Madame de + Saint-Esteve is in business, and will attend to your orders,” replied this + famous police officer. + </p> + <p> + On his return home, the unhappy lawyer was told that his mother’s reason + was in danger. Doctor Bianchon, Doctor Larabit, and Professor Angard had + met in consultation, and were prepared to apply heroic remedies to hinder + the rush of blood to the head. At the moment when Victorin was listening + to Doctor Bianchon, who was giving him, at some length, his reasons for + hoping that the crisis might be got over, the man-servant announced that a + client, Madame de Saint-Esteve, was waiting to see him. Victorin left + Bianchon in the middle of a sentence and flew downstairs like a madman. + </p> + <p> + “Is there any hereditary lunacy in the family?” said Bianchon, addressing + Larabit. + </p> + <p> + The doctors departed, leaving a hospital attendant, instructed by them, to + watch Madame Hulot. + </p> + <p> + “A whole life of virtue!——” was the only sentence the sufferer + had spoken since the attack. + </p> + <p> + Lisbeth never left Adeline’s bedside; she sat up all night, and was much + admired by the two younger women. + </p> + <p> + “Well, my dear Madame de Saint-Esteve,” said Victorin, showing the + dreadful old woman into his study and carefully shutting the doors, “how + are we getting on?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, ha! my dear friend,” said she, looking at Victorin with cold irony. + “So you have thought things over?” + </p> + <p> + “Have you done anything?” + </p> + <p> + “Will you pay fifty thousand francs?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” replied Victorin, “for we must get on. Do you know that by one + single phrase that woman has endangered my mother’s life and reason? So, I + say, get on.” + </p> + <p> + “We have got on!” replied the old woman. + </p> + <p> + “Well?” cried Victorin, with a gulp. + </p> + <p> + “Well, you do not cry off the expenses?” + </p> + <p> + “On the contrary.” + </p> + <p> + “They run up to twenty-three thousand francs already.” + </p> + <p> + Victorin looked helplessly at the woman. + </p> + <p> + “Well, could we hoodwink you, you, one of the shining lights of the law?” + said she. “For that sum we have secured a maid’s conscience and a picture + by Raphael.—It is not dear.” + </p> + <p> + Hulot, still bewildered, sat with wide open eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Well, then,” his visitor went on, “we have purchased the honesty of + Mademoiselle Reine Tousard, a damsel from whom Madame Marneffe has no + secrets—” + </p> + <p> + “I understand!” + </p> + <p> + “But if you shy, say so.” + </p> + <p> + “I will play blindfold,” he replied. “My mother has told me that that + couple deserve the worst torments—” + </p> + <p> + “The rack is out of date,” said the old woman. + </p> + <p> + “You answer for the result?” + </p> + <p> + “Leave it all to me,” said the woman; “your vengeance is simmering.” + </p> + <p> + She looked at the clock; it was six. + </p> + <p> + “Your avenger is dressing; the fires are lighted at the <i>Rocher de + Cancale</i>; the horses are pawing the ground; my irons are getting hot.—Oh, + I know your Madame Marneffe by heart!—Everything is ready. And there + are some boluses in the rat-trap; I will tell you to-morrow morning if the + mouse is poisoned. I believe she will be; good evening, my son.” + </p> + <p> + “Good-bye, madame.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you know English?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, my son, thou shalt be King. That is to say, you shall come into + your inheritance,” said the dreadful old witch, foreseen by Shakespeare, + and who seemed to know her Shakespeare. + </p> + <p> + She left Hulot amazed at the door of his study. + </p> + <p> + “The consultation is for to-morrow!” said she, with the gracious air of a + regular client. + </p> + <p> + She saw two persons coming, and wished to pass in their eyes a pinchbeck + countess. + </p> + <p> + “What impudence!” thought Hulot, bowing to his pretended client. + </p> + <p> + Baron Montes de Montejanos was a <i>lion</i>, but a lion not accounted + for. Fashionable Paris, Paris of the turf and of the town, admired the + ineffable waistcoats of this foreign gentleman, his spotless + patent-leather boots, his incomparable sticks, his much-coveted horses, + and the negro servants who rode the horses and who were entirely slaves + and most consumedly thrashed. + </p> + <p> + His fortune was well known; he had a credit account up to seven hundred + thousand francs in the great banking house of du Tillet; but he was always + seen alone. When he went to “first nights,” he was in a stall. He + frequented no drawing-rooms. He had never given his arm to a girl on the + streets. His name would not be coupled with that of any pretty woman of + the world. To pass his time he played whist at the Jockey-Club. The world + was reduced to calumny, or, which it thought funnier, to laughing at his + peculiarities; he went by the name of Combabus. + </p> + <p> + Bixiou, Leon de Lora, Lousteau, Florine, Mademoiselle Heloise Brisetout, + and Nathan, supping one evening with the notorious Carabine, with a large + party of <i>lions</i> and <i>lionesses</i>, had invented this name with an + excessively burlesque explanation. Massol, as being on the Council of + State, and Claude Vignon, erewhile Professor of Greek, had related to the + ignorant damsels the famous anecdote, preserved in Rollin’s <i>Ancient + History</i>, concerning Combabus, that voluntary Abelard who was placed in + charge of the wife of a King of Assyria, Persia, Bactria, Mesopotamia, and + other geographical divisions peculiar to old Professor du Bocage, who + continued the work of d’Anville, the creator of the East of antiquity. + This nickname, which gave Carabine’s guests laughter for a quarter of an + hour, gave rise to a series of over-free jests, to which the Academy could + not award the Montyon prize; but among which the name was taken up, to + rest thenceforth on the curly mane of the handsome Baron, called by + Josepha the splendid Brazilian—as one might say a splendid <i>Catoxantha</i>. + </p> + <p> + Carabine, the loveliest of her tribe, whose delicate beauty and amusing + wit had snatched the sceptre of the Thirteenth Arrondissement from the + hands of Mademoiselle Turquet, better known by the name of Malaga—Mademoiselle + Seraphine Sinet (this was her real name) was to du Tillet the banker what + Josepha Mirah was to the Duc d’Herouville. + </p> + <p> + Now, on the morning of the very day when Madame de Saint-Esteve had + prophesied success to Victorin, Carabine had said to du Tillet at about + seven o’clock: + </p> + <p> + “If you want to be very nice, you will give me a dinner at the <i>Rocher + de Cancale</i> and bring Combabus. We want to know, once for all, whether + he has a mistress.—I bet that he has, and I should like to win.” + </p> + <p> + “He is still at the Hotel des Princes; I will call,” replied du Tillet. + “We will have some fun. Ask all the youngsters—the youngster Bixiou, + the youngster Lora, in short, all the clan.” + </p> + <p> + At half-past seven that evening, in the handsomest room of the restaurant + where all Europe has dined, a splendid silver service was spread, made on + purpose for entertainments where vanity pays the bill in bank-notes. A + flood of light fell in ripples on the chased rims; waiters, whom a + provincial might have taken for diplomatists but for their age, stood + solemnly, as knowing themselves to be overpaid. + </p> + <p> + Five guests had arrived, and were waiting for nine more. These were first + and foremost Bixiou, still flourishing in 1843, the salt of every + intellectual dish, always supplied with fresh wit—a phenomenon as + rare in Paris as virtue is; Leon de Lora, the greatest living painter of + landscape and the sea who has this great advantage over all his rivals, + that he has never fallen below his first successes. The courtesans could + never dispense with these two kings of ready wit. No supper, no dinner, + was possible without them. + </p> + <p> + Seraphine Sinet, <i>dite</i> Carabine, as the mistress <i>en titre</i> of + the Amphitryon, was one of the first to arrive; and the brilliant lighting + showed off her shoulders, unrivaled in Paris, her throat, as round as if + turned in a lathe, without a crease, her saucy face, and dress of satin + brocade in two shades of blue, trimmed with Honiton lace enough to have + fed a whole village for a month. + </p> + <p> + Pretty Jenny Cadine, not acting that evening, came in a dress of + incredible splendor; her portrait is too well known to need any + description. A party is always a Longchamps of evening dress for these + ladies, each anxious to win the prize for her millionaire by thus + announcing to her rivals: + </p> + <p> + “This is the price I am worth!” + </p> + <p> + A third woman, evidently at the initial stage of her career, gazed, almost + shamefaced, at the luxury of her two established and wealthy companions. + Simply dressed in white cashmere trimmed with blue, her head had been + dressed with real flowers by a coiffeur of the old-fashioned school, whose + awkward hands had unconsciously given the charm of ineptitude to her fair + hair. Still unaccustomed to any finery, she showed the timidity—to + use a hackneyed phrase—inseparable from a first appearance. She had + come from Valognes to find in Paris some use for her distracting + youthfulness, her innocence that might have stirred the senses of a dying + man, and her beauty, worthy to hold its own with any that Normandy has + ever supplied to the theatres of the capital. The lines of that + unblemished face were the ideal of angelic purity. Her milk-white skin + reflected the light like a mirror. The delicate pink in her cheeks might + have been laid on with a brush. She was called Cydalise, and, as will be + seen, she was an important pawn in the game played by Ma’ame Nourrisson to + defeat Madame Marneffe. + </p> + <p> + “Your arm is not a match for your name, my child,” said Jenny Cadine, to + whom Carabine had introduced this masterpiece of sixteen, having brought + her with her. + </p> + <p> + And, in fact, Cydalise displayed to public admiration a fine pair of arms, + smooth and satiny, but red with healthy young blood. + </p> + <p> + “What do you want for her?” said Jenny Cadine, in an undertone to + Carabine. + </p> + <p> + “A fortune.” + </p> + <p> + “What are you going to do with her?” + </p> + <p> + “Well—Madame Combabus!” + </p> + <p> + “And what are you to get for such a job?” + </p> + <p> + “Guess.” + </p> + <p> + “A service of plate?” + </p> + <p> + “I have three.” + </p> + <p> + “Diamonds?” + </p> + <p> + “I am selling them.” + </p> + <p> + “A green monkey?” + </p> + <p> + “No. A picture by Raphael.” + </p> + <p> + “What maggot is that in your brain?” + </p> + <p> + “Josepha makes me sick with her pictures,” said Carabine. “I want some + better than hers.” + </p> + <p> + Du Tillet came with the Brazilian, the hero of the feast; the Duc + d’Herouville followed with Josepha. The singer wore a plain velvet gown, + but she had on a necklace worth a hundred and twenty thousand francs, + pearls hardly distinguishable from her skin like white camellia petals. + She had stuck one scarlet camellia in her black hair—a patch—the + effect was dazzling, and she had amused herself by putting eleven rows of + pearls on each arm. As she shook hands with Jenny Cadine, the actress + said, “Lend me your mittens!” + </p> + <p> + Josepha unclasped them one by one and handed them to her friend on a + plate. + </p> + <p> + “There’s style!” said Carabine. “Quite the Duchess! You have robbed the + ocean to dress the nymph, Monsieur le Duc,” she added turning to the + little Duc d’Herouville. + </p> + <p> + The actress took two of the bracelets; she clasped the other twenty on the + singer’s beautiful arms, which she kissed. + </p> + <p> + Lousteau, the literary cadger, la Palferine and Malaga, Massol, Vauvinet, + and Theodore Gaillard, a proprietor of one of the most important political + newspapers, completed the party. The Duc d’Herouville, polite to + everybody, as a fine gentleman knows how to be, greeted the Comte de la + Palferine with the particular nod which, while it does not imply either + esteem or intimacy, conveys to all the world, “We are of the same race, + the same blood—equals!”—And this greeting, the shibboleth of + the aristocracy, was invented to be the despair of the upper citizen + class. + </p> + <p> + Carabine placed Combabus on her left, and the Duc d’Herouville on her + right. Cydalise was next to the Brazilian, and beyond her was Bixiou. + Malaga sat by the Duke. + </p> + <p> + Oysters appeared at seven o’clock; at eight they were drinking iced punch. + Every one is familiar with the bill of fare of such a banquet. By nine + o’clock they were talking as people talk after forty-two bottles of + various wines, drunk by fourteen persons. Dessert was on the table, the + odious dessert of the month of April. Of all the party, the only one + affected by the heady atmosphere was Cydalise, who was humming a tune. + None of the party, with the exception of the poor country girl, had lost + their reason; the drinkers and the women were the experienced <i>elite</i> + of the society that sups. Their wits were bright, their eyes glistened, + but with no loss of intelligence, though the talk drifted into satire, + anecdote, and gossip. Conversation, hitherto confined to the inevitable + circle of racing, horses, hammerings on the Bourse, the different + occupations of the <i>lions</i> themselves, and the scandals of the town, + showed a tendency to break up into intimate <i>tete-a-tete</i>, the + dialogues of two hearts. + </p> + <p> + And at this stage, at a signal from Carabine to Leon de Lora, Bixiou, la + Palferine, and du Tillet, love came under discussion. + </p> + <p> + “A doctor in good society never talks of medicine, true nobles never speak + of their ancestors, men of genius do not discuss their works,” said + Josepha; “why should we talk business? If I got the opera put off in order + to dine here, it was assuredly not to work.—So let us change the + subject, dear children.” + </p> + <p> + “But we are speaking of real love, my beauty,” said Malaga, “of the love + that makes a man fling all to the dogs—father, mother, wife, + children—and retire to Clichy.” + </p> + <p> + “Talk away, then, ‘don’t know yer,’” said the singer. + </p> + <p> + The slang words, borrowed from the Street Arab, and spoken by these women, + may be a poem on their lips, helped by the expression of the eyes and + face. + </p> + <p> + “What, do not I love you, Josepha?” said the Duke in a low voice. + </p> + <p> + “You, perhaps, may love me truly,” said she in his ear, and she smiled. + “But I do not love you in the way they describe, with such love as makes + the world dark in the absence of the man beloved. You are delightful to + me, useful—but not indispensable; and if you were to throw me over + to-morrow, I could have three dukes for one.” + </p> + <p> + “Is true love to be found in Paris?” asked Leon de Lora. “Men have not + even time to make a fortune; how can they give themselves over to true + love, which swamps a man as water melts sugar? A man must be enormously + rich to indulge in it, for love annihilates him—for instance, like + our Brazilian friend over there. As I said long ago, ‘Extremes defeat—themselves.’ + A true lover is like an eunuch; women have ceased to exist for him. He is + mystical; he is like the true Christian, an anchorite of the desert!—See + our noble Brazilian.” + </p> + <p> + Every one at table looked at Henri Montes de Montejanos, who was shy at + finding every eye centred on him. + </p> + <p> + “He has been feeding there for an hour without discovering, any more than + an ox at pasture, that he is sitting next to—I will not say, in such + company, the loveliest—but the freshest woman in all Paris.” + </p> + <p> + “Everything is fresh here, even the fish; it is what the house is famous + for,” said Carabine. + </p> + <p> + Baron Montes looked good-naturedly at the painter, and said: + </p> + <p> + “Very good! I drink to your very good health,” and bowing to Leon de Lora, + he lifted his glass of port wine and drank it with much dignity. + </p> + <p> + “Are you then truly in love?” asked Malaga of her neighbor, thus + interpreting his toast. + </p> + <p> + The Brazilian refilled his glass, bowed to Carabine, and drank again. + </p> + <p> + “To the lady’s health then!” said the courtesan, in such a droll tone that + Lora, du Tillet, and Bixiou burst out laughing. + </p> + <p> + The Brazilian sat like a bronze statue. This impassibility provoked + Carabine. She knew perfectly well that Montes was devoted to Madame + Marneffe, but she had not expected this dogged fidelity, this obstinate + silence of conviction. + </p> + <p> + A woman is as often gauged by the attitude of her lover as a man is judged + from the tone of his mistress. The Baron was proud of his attachment to + Valerie, and of hers to him; his smile had, to these experienced + connoisseurs, a touch of irony; he was really grand to look upon; wine had + not flushed him; and his eyes, with their peculiar lustre as of tarnished + gold, kept the secrets of his soul. Even Carabine said to herself: + </p> + <p> + “What a woman she must be! How she has sealed up that heart!” + </p> + <p> + “He is a rock!” said Bixiou in an undertone, imagining that the whole + thing was a practical joke, and never suspecting the importance to + Carabine of reducing this fortress. + </p> + <p> + While this conversation, apparently so frivolous, was going on at + Carabine’s right, the discussion of love was continued on her left between + the Duc d’Herouville, Lousteau, Josepha, Jenny Cadine, and Massol. They + were wondering whether such rare phenomena were the result of passion, + obstinacy, or affection. Josepha, bored to death by it all, tried to + change the subject. + </p> + <p> + “You are talking of what you know nothing about. Is there a man among you + who ever loved a woman—a woman beneath him—enough to squander + his fortune and his children’s, to sacrifice his future and blight his + past, to risk going to the hulks for robbing the Government, to kill an + uncle and a brother, to let his eye be so effectually blinded that he did + not even perceive that it was done to hinder his seeing the abyss into + which, as a crowning jest, he was being driven? Du Tillet has a cash-box + under his left breast; Leon de Lora has his wit; Bixiou would laugh at + himself for a fool if he loved any one but himself; Massol has a + minister’s portfolio in the place of a heart; Lousteau can have nothing + but viscera, since he could endure to be thrown over by Madame de + Baudraye; Monsieur le Duc is too rich to prove his love by his ruin; + Vauvinet is not in it—I do not regard a bill-broker as one of the + human race; and you have never loved, nor I, nor Jenny Cadine, nor Malaga. + For my part, I never but once even saw the phenomenon I have described. It + was,” and she turned to Jenny Cadine, “that poor Baron Hulot, whom I am + going to advertise for like a lost dog, for I want to find him.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, ho!” said Carabine to herself, and looking keenly at Josepha, “then + Madame Nourrisson has two pictures by Raphael, since Josepha is playing my + hand!” + </p> + <p> + “Poor fellow,” said Vauvinet, “he was a great man! Magnificent! And what a + figure, what a style, the air of Francis I.! What a volcano! and how full + of ingenious ways of getting money! He must be looking for it now, + wherever he is, and I make no doubt he extracts it even from the walls + built of bones that you may see in the suburbs of Paris near the city + gates—” + </p> + <p> + “And all that,” said Bixiou, “for that little Madame Marneffe! There is a + precious hussy for you!” + </p> + <p> + “She is just going to marry my friend Crevel,” said du Tillet. + </p> + <p> + “And she is madly in love with my friend Steinbock,” Leon de Lora put in. + </p> + <p> + These three phrases were like so many pistol-shots fired point-blank at + Montes. He turned white, and the shock was so painful that he rose with + difficulty. + </p> + <p> + “You are a set of blackguards!” cried he. “You have no right to speak the + name of an honest woman in the same breath with those fallen creatures—above + all, not to make it a mark for your slander!” + </p> + <p> + He was interrupted by unanimous bravos and applause. Bixiou, Leon de Lora, + Vauvinet, du Tillet, and Massol set the example, and there was a chorus. + </p> + <p> + “Hurrah for the Emperor!” said Bixiou. + </p> + <p> + “Crown him! crown him!” cried Vauvinet. + </p> + <p> + “Three groans for such a good dog! Hurrah for Brazil!” cried Lousteau. + </p> + <p> + “So, my copper-colored Baron, it is our Valerie that you love; and you are + not disgusted?” said Leon de Lora. + </p> + <p> + “His remark is not parliamentary, but it is grand!” observed Massol. + </p> + <p> + “But, my most delightful customer,” said du Tillet, “you were recommended + to me; I am your banker; your innocence reflects on my credit.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, tell me, you are a reasonable creature——” said the + Brazilian to the banker. + </p> + <p> + “Thanks on behalf of the company,” said Bixiou with a bow. + </p> + <p> + “Tell me the real facts,” Montes went on, heedless of Bixiou’s + interjection. + </p> + <p> + “Well, then,” replied du Tillet, “I have the honor to tell you that I am + asked to the Crevel wedding.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, ha! Combabus holds a brief for Madame Marneffe!” said Josepha, rising + solemnly. + </p> + <p> + She went round to Montes with a tragic look, patted him kindly on the + head, looked at him for a moment with comical admiration, and nodded + sagely. + </p> + <p> + “Hulot was the first instance of love through fire and water,” said she; + “this is the second. But it ought not to count, as it comes from the + Tropics.” + </p> + <p> + Montes had dropped into his chair again, when Josepha gently touched his + forehead, and looked at du Tillet as he said: + </p> + <p> + “If I am the victim of a Paris jest, if you only wanted to get at my + secret——” and he sent a flashing look round the table, + embracing all the guests in a flaming glance that blazed with the sun of + Brazil,—“I beg of you as a favor to tell me so,” he went on, in a + tone of almost childlike entreaty; “but do not vilify the woman I love.” + </p> + <p> + “Nay, indeed,” said Carabine in a low voice; “but if, on the contrary, you + are shamefully betrayed, cheated, tricked by Valerie, if I should give you + the proof in an hour, in my own house, what then?” + </p> + <p> + “I cannot tell you before all these Iagos,” said the Brazilian. + </p> + <p> + Carabine understood him to say <i>magots</i> (baboons). + </p> + <p> + “Well, well, say no more!” she replied, smiling. “Do not make yourself a + laughing-stock for all the wittiest men in Paris; come to my house, we + will talk it over.” + </p> + <p> + Montes was crushed. “Proofs,” he stammered, “consider—” + </p> + <p> + “Only too many,” replied Carabine; “and if the mere suspicion hits you so + hard, I fear for your reason.” + </p> + <p> + “Is this creature obstinate, I ask you? He is worse than the late lamented + King of Holland!—I say, Lousteau, Bixiou, Massol, all the crew of + you, are you not invited to breakfast with Madame Marneffe the day after + to-morrow?” said Leon de Lora. + </p> + <p> + “<i>Ya</i>,” said du Tillet; “I have the honor of assuring you, Baron, + that if you had by any chance thought of marrying Madame Marneffe, you are + thrown out like a bill in Parliament, beaten by a blackball called Crevel. + My friend, my old comrade Crevel, has eighty thousand francs a year; and + you, I suppose, did not show such a good hand, for if you had, you, I + imagine, would have been preferred.” + </p> + <p> + Montes listened with a half-absent, half-smiling expression, which struck + them all with terror. + </p> + <p> + At this moment the head-waiter came to whisper to Carabine that a lady, a + relation of hers, was in the drawing-room and wished to speak to her. + </p> + <p> + Carabine rose and went out to find Madame Nourrisson, decently veiled with + black lace. + </p> + <p> + “Well, child, am I to go to your house? Has he taken the hook?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, mother; and the pistol is so fully loaded, that my only fear is that + it will burst,” said Carabine. + </p> + <p> + About an hour later, Montes, Cydalise, and Carabine, returning from the <i>Rocher + de Cancale</i>, entered Carabine’s little sitting-room in the Rue + Saint-Georges. Madame Nourrisson was sitting in an armchair by the fire. + </p> + <p> + “Here is my worthy old aunt,” said Carabine. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, child, I came in person to fetch my little allowance. You would have + forgotten me, though you are kind-hearted, and I have some bills to pay + to-morrow. Buying and selling clothes, I am always short of cash. Who is + this at your heels? The gentleman looks very much put out about + something.” + </p> + <p> + The dreadful Madame Nourrisson, at this moment so completely disguised as + to look like a respectable old body, rose to embrace Carabine, one of the + hundred and odd courtesans she had launched on their horrible career of + vice. + </p> + <p> + “He is an Othello who is not to be taken in, whom I have the honor of + introducing to you—Monsieur le Baron Montes de Montejanos.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! I have heard him talked about, and know his name.—You are + nicknamed Combabus, because you love but one woman, and in Paris, that is + the same as loving no one at all. And is it by chance the object of your + affections who is fretting you? Madame Marneffe, Crevel’s woman? I tell + you what, my dear sir, you may bless your stars instead of cursing them. + She is a good-for-nothing baggage, is that little woman. I know her + tricks!” + </p> + <p> + “Get along,” said Carabine, into whose hand Madame Nourrisson had slipped + a note while embracing her, “you do not know your Brazilians. They are + wrong-headed creatures that insist on being impaled through the heart. The + more jealous they are, the more jealous they want to be. Monsieur talks of + dealing death all round, but he will kill nobody because he is in love.—However, + I have brought him here to give him the proofs of his discomfiture, which + I have got from that little Steinbock.” + </p> + <p> + Montes was drunk; he listened as if the women were talking about somebody + else. + </p> + <p> + Carabine went to take off her velvet wrap, and read a facsimile of a note, + as follows:— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “DEAR PUSS.—He dines with Popinot this evening, and will come + to fetch me from the Opera at eleven. I shall go out at about + half-past five and count on finding you at our paradise. Order + dinner to be sent in from the <i>Maison d’or</i>. Dress, so as to be + able to take me to the Opera. We shall have four hours to ourselves. + Return this note to me; not that your Valerie doubts you—I would + give you my life, my fortune, and my honor, but I am afraid of the + tricks of chance.” + </pre> + <p> + “Here, Baron, this is the note sent to Count Steinbock this morning; read + the address. The original document is burnt.” + </p> + <p> + Montes turned the note over and over, recognized the writing, and was + struck by a rational idea, which is sufficient evidence of the disorder of + his brain. + </p> + <p> + “And, pray,” said he, looking at Carabine, “what object have you in + torturing my heart, for you must have paid very dear for the privilege of + having the note in your possession long enough to get it lithographed?” + </p> + <p> + “Foolish man!” said Carabine, at a nod from Madame Nourrisson, “don’t you + see that poor child Cydalise—a girl of sixteen, who has been pining + for you these three months, till she has lost her appetite for food or + drink, and who is heart-broken because you have never even glanced at + her?” + </p> + <p> + Cydalise put her handkerchief to her eyes with an appearance of emotion—“She + is furious,” Carabine went on, “though she looks as if butter would not + melt in her mouth, furious to see the man she adores duped by a villainous + hussy; she would kill Valerie—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, as for that,” said the Brazilian, “that is my business!” + </p> + <p> + “What, killing?” said old Nourrisson. “No, my son, we don’t do that here + nowadays.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” said Montes, “I am not a native of this country. I live in a parish + where I can laugh at your laws; and if you give me proof—” + </p> + <p> + “Well, that note. Is that nothing?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said the Brazilian. “I do not believe in the writing. I must see for + myself.” + </p> + <p> + “See!” cried Carabine, taking the hint at once from a gesture of her + supposed aunt. “You shall see, my dear Tiger, all you wish to see—on + one condition.” + </p> + <p> + “And that is?” + </p> + <p> + “Look at Cydalise.” + </p> + <p> + At a wink from Madame Nourrisson, Cydalise cast a tender look at the + Baron. + </p> + <p> + “Will you be good to her? Will you make her a home?” asked Carabine. “A + girl of such beauty is well worth a house and a carriage! It would be a + monstrous shame to leave her to walk the streets. And besides—she is + in debt.—How much do you owe?” asked Carabine, nipping Cydalise’s + arm. + </p> + <p> + “She is worth all she can get,” said the old woman. “The point is that she + can find a buyer.” + </p> + <p> + “Listen!” cried Montes, fully aware at last of this masterpiece of + womankind “you will show me Valerie—” + </p> + <p> + “And Count Steinbock.—Certainly!” said Madame Nourrisson. + </p> + <p> + For the past ten minutes the old woman had been watching the Brazilian; + she saw that he was an instrument tuned up to the murderous pitch she + needed; and, above all, so effectually blinded, that he would never heed + who had led him on to it, and she spoke:— + </p> + <p> + “Cydalise, my Brazilian jewel, is my niece, so her concerns are partly + mine. All this catastrophe will be the work of a few minutes, for a friend + of mine lets the furnished room to Count Steinbock where Valerie is at + this moment taking coffee—a queer sort of coffee, but she calls it + her coffee. So let us understand each other, Brazil!—I like Brazil, + it is a hot country.—What is to become of my niece?” + </p> + <p> + “You old ostrich,” said Montes, the plumes in the woman’s bonnet catching + his eye, “you interrupted me.—If you show me—if I see Valerie + and that artist together—” + </p> + <p> + “As you would wish to be—” said Carabine; “that is understood.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I will take this girl and carry her away—” + </p> + <p> + “Where?” asked Carabine. + </p> + <p> + “To Brazil,” replied the Baron. “I will make her my wife. My uncle left me + ten leagues square of entailed estate; that is how I still have that house + and home. I have a hundred negroes—nothing but negroes and negresses + and negro brats, all bought by my uncle—” + </p> + <p> + “Nephew to a nigger-driver,” said Carabine, with a grimace. “That needs + some consideration.—Cydalise, child, are you fond of the blacks?” + </p> + <p> + “Pooh! Carabine, no nonsense,” said the old woman. “The deuce is in it! + Monsieur and I are doing business.” + </p> + <p> + “If I take up another Frenchwoman, I mean to have her to myself,” the + Brazilian went on. “I warn you, mademoiselle, I am king there, and not a + constitutional king. I am Czar; my subjects are mine by purchase, and no + one can escape from my kingdom, which is a hundred leagues from any human + settlement, hemmed in by savages on the interior, and divided from the sea + by a wilderness as wide as France.” + </p> + <p> + “I should prefer a garret here.” + </p> + <p> + “So thought I,” said Montes, “since I sold all my land and possessions at + Rio to come back to Madame Marneffe.” + </p> + <p> + “A man does not make such a voyage for nothing,” remarked Madame + Nourrisson. “You have a right to look for love for your own sake, + particularly being so good-looking.—Oh, he is very handsome!” said + she to Carabine. + </p> + <p> + “Very handsome, handsomer than the <i>Postillon de Longjumeau</i>,” + replied the courtesan. + </p> + <p> + Cydalise took the Brazilian’s hand, but he released it as politely as he + could. + </p> + <p> + “I came back for Madame Marneffe,” the man went on where he had left off, + “but you do not know why I was three years thinking about it.” + </p> + <p> + “No, savage!” said Carabine. + </p> + <p> + “Well, she had so repeatedly told me that she longed to live with me alone + in a desert—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, ho! he is not a savage after all,” cried Carabine, with a shout of + laughter. “He is of the highly-civilized tribe of Flats!” + </p> + <p> + “She had told me this so often,” Montes went on, regardless of the + courtesan’s mockery, “that I had a lovely house fitted up in the heart of + that vast estate. I came back to France to fetch Valerie, and the first + evening I saw her—” + </p> + <p> + “Saw her is very proper!” said Carabine. “I will remember it.” + </p> + <p> + “She told me to wait till that wretched Marneffe was dead; and I agreed, + and forgave her for having admitted the attentions of Hulot. Whether the + devil had her in hand I don’t know, but from that instant that woman has + humored my every whim, complied with all my demands—never for one + moment has she given me cause to suspect her!—” + </p> + <p> + “That is supremely clever!” said Carabine to Madame Nourrisson, who nodded + in sign of assent. + </p> + <p> + “My faith in that woman,” said Montes, and he shed a tear, “was a match + for my love. Just now, I was ready to fight everybody at table—” + </p> + <p> + “So I saw,” said Carabine. + </p> + <p> + “And if I am cheated, if she is going to be married, if she is at this + moment in Steinbock’s arms, she deserves a thousand deaths! I will kill + her as I would smash a fly—” + </p> + <p> + “And how about the gendarmes, my son?” said Madame Nourrisson, with a + smile that made your flesh creep. + </p> + <p> + “And the police agents, and the judges, and the assizes, and all the + set-out?” added Carabine. + </p> + <p> + “You are bragging, my dear fellow,” said the old woman, who wanted to know + all the Brazilian’s schemes of vengeance. + </p> + <p> + “I will kill her,” he calmly repeated. “You called me a savage.—Do + you imagine that I am fool enough to go, like a Frenchman, and buy poison + at the chemist’s shop?—During the time while we were driving her, I + thought out my means of revenge, if you should prove to be right as + concerns Valerie. One of my negroes has the most deadly of animal poisons, + and incurable anywhere but in Brazil. I will administer it to Cydalise, + who will give it to me; then by the time when death is a certainty to + Crevel and his wife, I shall be beyond the Azores with your cousin, who + will be cured, and I will marry her. We have our own little tricks, we + savages!—Cydalise,” said he, looking at the country girl, “is the + animal I need.—How much does she owe?” + </p> + <p> + “A hundred thousand francs,” said Cydalise. + </p> + <p> + “She says little—but to the purpose,” said Carabine, in a low tone + to Madame Nourrisson. + </p> + <p> + “I am going mad!” cried the Brazilian, in a husky voice, dropping on to a + sofa. “I shall die of this! But I must see, for it is impossible!—A + lithographed note! What is to assure me that it is not a forgery?—Baron + Hulot was in love with Valerie?” said he, recalling Josepha’s harangue. + “Nay; the proof that he did not love is that she is still alive—I + will not leave her living for anybody else, if she is not wholly mine.” + </p> + <p> + Montes was terrible to behold. He bellowed, he stormed; he broke + everything he touched; rosewood was as brittle as glass. + </p> + <p> + “How he destroys things!” said Carabine, looking at the old woman. “My + good boy,” said she, giving the Brazilian a little slap, “Roland the + Furious is very fine in a poem; but in a drawing-room he is prosaic and + expensive.” + </p> + <p> + “My son,” said old Nourrisson, rising to stand in front of the crestfallen + Baron, “I am of your way of thinking. When you love in that way, and are + joined ‘till death does you part,’ life must answer for love. The one who + first goes, carries everything away; it is a general wreck. You command my + esteem, my admiration, my consent, especially for your inoculation, which + will make me a Friend of the Negro.—But you love her! You will hark + back?” + </p> + <p> + “I?—If she is so infamous, I—” + </p> + <p> + “Well, come now, you are talking too much, it strikes me. A man who means + to be avenged, and who says he has the ways and means of a savage, doesn’t + do that.—If you want to see your ‘object’ in her paradise, you must + take Cydalise and walk straight in with her on your arm, as if the servant + had made a mistake. But no scandal! If you mean to be revenged, you must + eat the leek, seem to be in despair, and allow her to bully you.—Do + you see?” said Madame Nourrisson, finding the Brazilian quite amazed by so + subtle a scheme. + </p> + <p> + “All right, old ostrich,” he replied. “Come along: I understand.” + </p> + <p> + “Good-bye, little one!” said the old woman to Carabine. + </p> + <p> + She signed to Cydalise to go on with Montes, and remained a minute with + Carabine. + </p> + <p> + “Now, child, I have but one fear, and that is that he will strangle her! I + should be in a very tight place; we must do everything gently. I believe + you have won your picture by Raphael; but they tell me it is only a + Mignard. Never mind, it is much prettier; all the Raphaels are gone black, + I am told, whereas this one is as bright as a Girodet.” + </p> + <p> + “All I want is to crow over Josepha; and it is all the same to me whether + I have a Mignard or a Raphael!—That thief had on such pearls this + evening!—you would sell your soul for them.” + </p> + <p> + Cydalise, Montes, and Madame Nourrisson got into a hackney coach that was + waiting at the door. Madame Nourrisson whispered to the driver the address + of a house in the same block as the Italian Opera House, which they could + have reached in five or six minutes from the Rue Saint-Georges; but Madame + Nourrisson desired the man to drive along the Rue le Peletier, and to go + very slowly, so as to be able to examine the carriages in waiting. + </p> + <p> + “Brazilian,” said the old woman, “look out for your angel’s carriage and + servants.” + </p> + <p> + The Baron pointed out Valerie’s carriage as they passed it. + </p> + <p> + “She has told them to come for her at ten o’clock, and she is gone in a + cab to the house where she visits Count Steinbock. She has dined there, + and will come to the Opera in half an hour.—It is well contrived!” + said Madame Nourrisson. “Thus you see how she has kept you so long in the + dark.” + </p> + <p> + The Brazilian made no reply. He had become the tiger, and had recovered + the imperturbable cool ferocity that had been so striking at dinner. He + was as calm as a bankrupt the day after he has stopped payment. + </p> + <p> + At the door of the house stood a hackney coach with two horses, of the + kind known as a <i>Compagnie Generale</i>, from the Company that runs + them. + </p> + <p> + “Stay here in the box,” said the old woman to Montes. “This is not an open + house like a tavern. I will send for you.” + </p> + <p> + The paradise of Madame Marneffe and Wenceslas was not at all like that of + Crevel—who, finding it useless now, had just sold his to the Comte + Maxime de Trailles. This paradise, the paradise of all comers, consisted + of a room on the fourth floor opening to the landing, in a house close to + the Italian Opera. On each floor of this house there was a room which had + originally served as the kitchen to the apartments on that floor. But the + house having become a sort of inn, let out for clandestine love affairs at + an exorbitant price, the owner, the real Madame Nourrisson, an old-clothes + buyer in the Rue Nueve Saint-Marc, had wisely appreciated the great value + of these kitchens, and had turned them into a sort of dining-rooms. Each + of these rooms, built between thick party-walls and with windows to the + street, was entirely shut in by very thick double doors on the landing. + Thus the most important secrets could be discussed over a dinner, with no + risk of being overheard. For greater security, the windows had shutters + inside and out. These rooms, in consequence of this peculiarity, were let + for twelve hundred francs a month. The whole house, full of such paradises + and mysteries was rented by Madame Nourrisson the First for twenty-eight + thousand francs of clear profit, after paying her housekeeper, Madame + Nourrisson the Second, for she did not manage it herself. + </p> + <p> + The paradise let to Count Steinbock had been hung with chintz; the cold, + hard floor, of common tiles reddened with encaustic, was not felt through + a soft thick carpet. The furniture consisted of two pretty chairs and a + bed in an alcove, just now half hidden by a table loaded with the remains + of an elegant dinner, while two bottles with long necks and an empty + champagne-bottle in ice strewed the field of bacchus cultivated by Venus. + </p> + <p> + There were also—the property, no doubt, of Valerie—a low + easy-chair and a man’s smoking-chair, and a pretty toilet chest of drawers + in rosewood, the mirror handsomely framed <i>a la</i> Pompadour. A lamp + hanging from the ceiling gave a subdued light, increased by wax candles on + the table and on the chimney-shelf. + </p> + <p> + This sketch will suffice to give an idea, <i>urbi et orbi</i>, of + clandestine passion in the squalid style stamped on it in Paris in 1840. + How far, alas! from the adulterous love, symbolized by Vulcan’s nets, + three thousand years ago. + </p> + <p> + When Montes and Cydalise came upstairs, Valerie, standing before the fire, + where a log was blazing, was allowing Wenceslas to lace her stays. + </p> + <p> + This is a moment when a woman who is neither too fat nor too thin, but + like Valerie, elegant and slender, displays divine beauty. The rosy skin, + mostly soft, invites the sleepiest eye. The lines of her figure, so little + hidden, are so charmingly outlined by the white pleats of the shift and + the support of the stays, that she is irresistible—like everything + that must be parted from. + </p> + <p> + With a happy face smiling at the glass, a foot impatiently marking time, a + hand put up to restore order among the tumbled curls, and eyes expressive + of gratitude; with the glow of satisfaction which, like a sunset, warms + the least details of the countenance—everything makes such a moment + a mine of memories. + </p> + <p> + Any man who dares look back on the early errors of his life may, perhaps, + recall some such reminiscences, and understand, though not excuse, the + follies of Hulot and Crevel. Women are so well aware of their power at + such a moment, that they find in it what may be called the aftermath of + the meeting. + </p> + <p> + “Come, come; after two years’ practice, you do not yet know how to lace a + woman’s stays! You are too much a Pole!—There, it is ten o’clock, my + Wenceslas!” said Valerie, laughing at him. + </p> + <p> + At this very moment, a mischievous waiting-woman, by inserting a knife, + pushed up the hook of the double doors that formed the whole security of + Adam and Eve. She hastily pulled the door open—for the servants of + these dens have little time to waste—and discovered one of the + bewitching <i>tableaux de genre</i> which Gavarni has so often shown at + the Salon. + </p> + <p> + “In here, madame,” said the girl; and Cydalise went in, followed by + Montes. + </p> + <p> + “But there is some one here.—Excuse me, madame,” said the country + girl, in alarm. + </p> + <p> + “What?—Why! it is Valerie!” cried Montes, violently slamming the + door. + </p> + <p> + Madame Marneffe, too genuinely agitated to dissemble her feelings, dropped + on to the chair by the fireplace. Two tears rose to her eyes, and at once + dried away. She looked at Montes, saw the girl, and burst into a cackle of + forced laughter. The dignity of the insulted woman redeemed the scantiness + of her attire; she walked close up to the Brazilian, and looked at him so + defiantly that her eyes glittered like knives. + </p> + <p> + “So that,” said she, standing face to face with the Baron, and pointing to + Cydalise—“that is the other side of your fidelity? You, who have + made me promises that might convert a disbeliever in love! You, for whom I + have done so much—have even committed crimes!—You are right, + monsieur, I am not to compare with a child of her age and of such beauty! + </p> + <p> + “I know what you are going to say,” she went on, looking at Wenceslas, + whose undress was proof too clear to be denied. “This is my concern. If I + could love you after such gross treachery—for you have spied upon + me, you have paid for every step up these stairs, paid the mistress of the + house, and the servant, perhaps even Reine—a noble deed!—If I + had any remnant of affection for such a mean wretch, I could give him + reasons that would renew his passion!—But I leave you, monsieur, to + your doubts, which will become remorse.—Wenceslas, my gown!” + </p> + <p> + She took her dress and put it on, looked at herself in the glass, and + finished dressing without heeding the Baron, as calmly as if she had been + alone in the room. + </p> + <p> + “Wenceslas, are you ready?—Go first.” + </p> + <p> + She had been watching Montes in the glass and out of the corner of her + eye, and fancied she could see in his pallor an indication of the weakness + which delivers a strong man over to a woman’s fascinations; she now took + his hand, going so close to him that he could not help inhaling the + terrible perfumes which men love, and by which they intoxicate themselves; + then, feeling his pulses beat high, she looked at him reproachfully. + </p> + <p> + “You have my full permission to go and tell your history to Monsieur + Crevel; he will never believe you. I have a perfect right to marry him, + and he becomes my husband the day after to-morrow.—I shall make him + very happy.—Good-bye; try to forget me.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! Valerie,” cried Henri Montes, clasping her in his arms, “that is + impossible!—Come to Brazil!” + </p> + <p> + Valerie looked in his face, and saw him her slave. + </p> + <p> + “Well, if you still love me, Henri, two years hence I will be your wife; + but your expression at this moment strikes me as very suspicious.” + </p> + <p> + “I swear to you that they made me drink, that false friends threw this + girl on my hands, and that the whole thing is the outcome of chance!” said + Montes. + </p> + <p> + “Then I am to forgive you?” she asked, with a smile. + </p> + <p> + “But you will marry, all the same?” asked the Baron, in an agony of + jealousy. + </p> + <p> + “Eighty thousand francs a year!” said she, with almost comical enthusiasm. + “And Crevel loves me so much that he will die of it!” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! I understand,” said Montes. + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, in a few days we will come to an understanding,” said she. + </p> + <p> + And she departed triumphant. + </p> + <p> + “I have no scruples,” thought the Baron, standing transfixed for a few + minutes. “What! That woman believes she can make use of his passion to be + quit of that dolt, as she counted on Marneffe’s decease!—I shall be + the instrument of divine wrath.” + </p> + <p> + Two days later those of du Tillet’s guests who had demolished Madame + Marneffe tooth and nail, were seated round her table an hour after she has + shed her skin and changed her name for the illustrious name of a Paris + mayor. This verbal treason is one of the commonest forms of Parisian + levity. + </p> + <p> + Valerie had had the satisfaction of seeing the Brazilian in the church; + for Crevel, now so entirely the husband, had invited him out of bravado. + And the Baron’s presence at the breakfast astonished no one. All these men + of wit and of the world were familiar with the meanness of passion, the + compromises of pleasure. + </p> + <p> + Steinbock’s deep melancholy—for he was beginning to despise the + woman whom he had adored as an angel—was considered to be in + excellent taste. The Pole thus seemed to convey that all was at an end + between Valerie and himself. Lisbeth came to embrace her dear Madame + Crevel, and to excuse herself for not staying to the breakfast on the + score of Adeline’s sad state of health. + </p> + <p> + “Be quite easy,” said she to Valerie, “they will call on you, and you will + call on them. Simply hearing the words <i>two hundred thousand francs</i> + has brought the Baroness to death’s door. Oh, you have them all hard and + fast by that tale!—But you must tell it to me.” + </p> + <p> + Within a month of her marriage, Valerie was at her tenth quarrel with + Steinbock; he insisted on explanations as to Henri Montes, reminding her + of the words spoken in their paradise; and, not content with speaking to + her in terms of scorn, he watched her so closely that she never had a + moment of liberty, so much was she fettered by his jealousy on one side + and Crevel’s devotion on the other. + </p> + <p> + Bereft now of Lisbeth, whose advice had always been so valuable she flew + into such a rage as to reproach Wenceslas for the money she had lent him. + This so effectually roused Steinbock’s pride, that he came no more to the + Crevels’ house. So Valerie had gained her point, which was to be rid of + him for a time, and enjoy some freedom. She waited till Crevel should make + a little journey into the country to see Comte Popinot, with a view to + arranging for her introduction to the Countess, and was then able to make + an appointment to meet the Baron, whom she wanted to have at her command + for a whole day to give him those “reasons” which were to make him love + her more than ever. + </p> + <p> + On the morning of that day, Reine, who estimated the magnitude of her + crime by that of the bribe she received, tried to warn her mistress, in + whom she naturally took more interest than in strangers. Still, as she had + been threatened with madness, and ending her days in the Salpetriere in + case of indiscretion, she was cautious. + </p> + <p> + “Madame, you are so well off now,” said she. “Why take on again with that + Brazilian?—I do not trust him at all.” + </p> + <p> + “You are very right, Reine, and I mean to be rid of him.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, madame, I am glad to hear it; he frightens me, does that big Moor! I + believe him to be capable of anything.” + </p> + <p> + “Silly child! you have more reason to be afraid for him when he is with + me.” + </p> + <p> + At this moment Lisbeth came in. + </p> + <p> + “My dear little pet Nanny, what an age since we met!” cried Valerie. “I am + so unhappy! Crevel bores me to death; and Wenceslas is gone—we + quarreled.” + </p> + <p> + “I know,” said Lisbeth, “and that is what brings me here. Victorin met him + at about five in the afternoon going into an eating-house at + five-and-twenty sous, and he brought him home, hungry, by working on his + feelings, to the Rue Louis-le-Grand.—Hortense, seeing Wenceslas lean + and ill and badly dressed, held out her hand. This is how you throw me + over—” + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur Henri, madame,” the man-servant announced in a low voice to + Valerie. + </p> + <p> + “Leave me now, Lisbeth; I will explain it all to-morrow.” But, as will be + seen, Valerie was ere long not in a state to explain anything to anybody. + </p> + <p> + Towards the end of May, Baron Hulot’s pension was released by Victorin’s + regular payment to Baron Nucingen. As everybody knows, pensions are paid + half-yearly, and only on the presentation of a certificate that the + recipient is alive: and as Hulot’s residence was unknown, the arrears + unpaid on Vauvinet’s demand remained to his credit in the Treasury. + Vauvinet now signed his renunciation of any further claims, and it was + still indispensable to find the pensioner before the arrears could be + drawn. + </p> + <p> + Thanks to Bianchon’s care, the Baroness had recovered her health; and to + this Josepha’s good heart had contributed by a letter, of which the + orthography betrayed the collaboration of the Duc d’Herouville. This was + what the singer wrote to the Baroness, after twenty days of anxious + search:— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “MADAME LA BARONNE,—Monsieur Hulot was living, two months since, + in the Rue des Bernardins, with Elodie Chardin, a lace-mender, for + whom he had left Mademoiselle Bijou; but he went away without a + word, leaving everything behind him, and no one knows where he + went. I am not without hope, however, and I have put a man on this + track who believes he has already seen him in the Boulevard + Bourdon. + + “The poor Jewess means to keep the promise she made to the + Christian. Will the angel pray for the devil? That must sometimes + happen in heaven.—I remain, with the deepest respect, always your + humble servant, + + “JOSEPHA MIRAH.” + </pre> + <p> + The lawyer, Maitre Hulot d’Ervy, hearing no more of the dreadful Madame + Nourrisson, seeing his father-in-law married, having brought back his + brother-in-law to the family fold, suffering from no importunity on the + part of his new stepmother, and seeing his mother’s health improve daily, + gave himself up to his political and judicial duties, swept along by the + tide of Paris life, in which the hours count for days. + </p> + <p> + One night, towards the end of the session, having occasion to write up a + report to the Chamber of Deputies, he was obliged to sit at work till late + at night. He had gone into his study at nine o’clock, and, while waiting + till the man-servant should bring in the candles with green shades, his + thoughts turned to his father. He was blaming himself for leaving the + inquiry so much to the singer, and had resolved to see Monsieur Chapuzot + himself on the morrow, when he saw in the twilight, outside the window, a + handsome old head, bald and yellow, with a fringe of white hair. + </p> + <p> + “Would you please to give orders, sir, that a poor hermit is to be + admitted, just come from the Desert, and who is instructed to beg for + contributions towards rebuilding a holy house.” + </p> + <p> + This apparition, which suddenly reminded the lawyer of a prophecy uttered + by the terrible Nourrisson, gave him a shock. + </p> + <p> + “Let in that old man,” said he to the servant. + </p> + <p> + “He will poison the place, sir,” replied the man. “He has on a brown gown + which he has never changed since he left Syria, and he has no shirt—” + </p> + <p> + “Show him in,” repeated the master. + </p> + <p> + The old man came in. Victorin’s keen eye examined this so-called pilgrim + hermit, and he saw a fine specimen of the Neapolitan friars, whose frocks + are akin to the rags of the <i>lazzaroni</i>, whose sandals are tatters of + leather, as the friars are tatters of humanity. The get-up was so perfect + that the lawyer, though still on his guard, was vexed with himself for + having believed it to be one of Madame Nourrisson’s tricks. + </p> + <p> + “How much to you want of me?” + </p> + <p> + “Whatever you feel that you ought to give me.” + </p> + <p> + Victorin took a five-franc piece from a little pile on his table, and + handed it to the stranger. + </p> + <p> + “That is not much on account of fifty thousand francs,” said the pilgrim + of the desert. + </p> + <p> + This speech removed all Victorin’s doubts. + </p> + <p> + “And has Heaven kept its word?” he said, with a frown. + </p> + <p> + “The question is an offence, my son,” said the hermit. “If you do not + choose to pay till after the funeral, you are in your rights. I will + return in a week’s time.” + </p> + <p> + “The funeral!” cried the lawyer, starting up. + </p> + <p> + “The world moves on,” said the old man, as he withdrew, “and the dead move + quickly in Paris!” + </p> + <p> + When Hulot, who stood looking down, was about to reply, the stalwart old + man had vanished. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t understand one word of all this,” said Victorin to himself. “But + at the end of the week I will ask him again about my father, if we have + not yet found him. Where does Madame Nourrisson—yes, that was her + name—pick up such actors?” + </p> + <p> + On the following day, Doctor Bianchon allowed the Baroness to go down into + the garden, after examining Lisbeth, who had been obliged to keep to her + room for a month by a slight bronchial attack. The learned doctor, who + dared not pronounce a definite opinion on Lisbeth’s case till he had seen + some decisive symptoms, went into the garden with Adeline to observe the + effect of the fresh air on her nervous trembling after two months of + seclusion. He was interested and allured by the hope of curing this + nervous complaint. On seeing the great physician sitting with them and + sparing them a few minutes, the Baroness and her family conversed with him + on general subjects. + </p> + <p> + “You life is a very full and a very sad one,” said Madame Hulot. “I know + what it is to spend one’s days in seeing poverty and physical suffering.” + </p> + <p> + “I know, madame,” replied the doctor, “all the scenes of which charity + compels you to be a spectator; but you will get used to it in time, as we + all do. It is the law of existence. The confessor, the magistrate, the + lawyer would find life unendurable if the spirit of the State did not + assert itself above the feelings of the individual. Could we live at all + but for that? Is not the soldier in time of war brought face to face with + spectacles even more dreadful than those we see? And every soldier that + has been under fire is kind-hearted. We medical men have the pleasure now + and again of a successful cure, as you have that of saving a family from + the horrors of hunger, depravity, or misery, and of restoring it to social + respectability. But what comfort can the magistrate find, the police + agent, or the attorney, who spend their lives in investigating the basest + schemes of self-interest, the social monster whose only regret is when it + fails, but on whom repentance never dawns? + </p> + <p> + “One-half of society spends its life in watching the other half. A very + old friend of mine is an attorney, now retired, who told me that for + fifteen years past notaries and lawyers have distrusted their clients + quite as much as their adversaries. Your son is a pleader; has he never + found himself compromised by the client for whom he held a brief?” + </p> + <p> + “Very often,” said Victorin, with a smile. + </p> + <p> + “And what is the cause of this deep-seated evil?” asked the Baroness. + </p> + <p> + “The decay of religion,” said Bianchon, “and the pre-eminence of finance, + which is simply solidified selfishness. Money used not to be everything; + there were some kinds of superiority that ranked above it—nobility, + genius, service done to the State. But nowadays the law takes wealth as + the universal standard, and regards it as the measure of public capacity. + Certain magistrates are ineligible to the Chamber; Jean-Jacques Rousseau + would be ineligible! The perpetual subdivision of estate compels every man + to take care of himself from the age of twenty. + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, between the necessity for making a fortune and the depravity + of speculation there is no check or hindrance; for the religious sense is + wholly lacking in France, in spite of the laudable endeavors of those who + are working for a Catholic revival. And this is the opinion of every man + who, like me, studies society at the core.” + </p> + <p> + “And you have few pleasures?” said Hortense. + </p> + <p> + “The true physician, madame, is in love with his science,” replied the + doctor. “He is sustained by that passion as much as by the sense of his + usefulness to society. + </p> + <p> + “At this very time you see in me a sort of scientific rapture, and many + superficial judges would regard me as a man devoid of feeling. I have to + announce a discovery to-morrow to the College of Medicine, for I am + studying a disease that had disappeared—a mortal disease for which + no cure is known in temperate climates, though it is curable in the West + Indies—a malady known here in the Middle Ages. A noble fight is that + of the physician against such a disease. For the last ten days I have + thought of nothing but these cases—for there are two, a husband and + wife.—Are they not connections of yours? For you, madame, are surely + Monsieur Crevel’s daughter?” said he, addressing Celestine. + </p> + <p> + “What, is my father your patient?” asked Celestine. “Living in the Rue + Barbet-de-Jouy?” + </p> + <p> + “Precisely so,” said Bianchon. + </p> + <p> + “And the disease is inevitably fatal?” said Victorin in dismay. + </p> + <p> + “I will go to see him,” said Celestine, rising. + </p> + <p> + “I positively forbid it, madame,” Bianchon quietly said. “The disease is + contagious.” + </p> + <p> + “But you go there, monsieur,” replied the young woman. “Do you think that + a daughter’s duty is less binding than a doctor’s?” + </p> + <p> + “Madame, a physician knows how to protect himself against infection, and + the rashness of your devotion proves to me that you would probably be less + prudent than I.” + </p> + <p> + Celestine, however, got up and went to her room, where she dressed to go + out. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur,” said Victorin to Bianchon, “have you any hope of saving + Monsieur and Madame Crevel?” + </p> + <p> + “I hope, but I do not believe that I may,” said Bianchon. “The case is to + me quite inexplicable. The disease is peculiar to negroes and the American + tribes, whose skin is differently constituted to that of the white races. + Now I can trace no connection with the copper-colored tribes, with negroes + or half-castes, in Monsieur or Madame Crevel. + </p> + <p> + “And though it is a very interesting disease to us, it is a terrible thing + for the sufferers. The poor woman, who is said to have been very pretty, + is punished for her sins, for she is now squalidly hideous if she is still + anything at all. She is losing her hair and teeth, her skin is like a + leper’s, she is a horror to herself; her hands are horrible, covered with + greenish pustules, her nails are loose, and the flesh is eaten away by the + poisoned humors.” + </p> + <p> + “And the cause of such a disease?” asked the lawyer. + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” said the doctor, “the cause lies in a form of rapid blood-poisoning; + it degenerates with terrific rapidity. I hope to act on the blood; I am + having it analyzed; and I am now going home to ascertain the result of the + labors of my friend Professor Duval, the famous chemist, with a view to + trying one of those desperate measures by which we sometimes attempt to + defeat death.” + </p> + <p> + “The hand of God is there!” said Adeline, in a voice husky with emotion. + “Though that woman has brought sorrows on me which have led me in moments + of madness to invoke the vengeance of Heaven, I hope—God knows I + hope—you may succeed, doctor.” + </p> + <p> + Victorin felt dizzy. He looked at his mother, his sister, and the + physician by turns, quaking lest they should read his thoughts. He felt + himself a murderer. + </p> + <p> + Hortense, for her part, thought God was just. + </p> + <p> + Celestine came back to beg her husband to accompany her. + </p> + <p> + “If you insist on going, madame, and you too, monsieur, keep at least a + foot between you and the bed of the sufferer, that is the chief + precaution. Neither you nor your wife must dream of kissing the dying man. + And, indeed, you ought to go with your wife, Monsieur Hulot, to hinder her + from disobeying my injunctions.” + </p> + <p> + Adeline and Hortense, when they were left alone, went to sit with Lisbeth. + Hortense had such a virulent hatred of Valerie that she could not contain + the expression of it. + </p> + <p> + “Cousin Lisbeth,” she exclaimed, “my mother and I are avenged! that + venomous snake is herself bitten—she is rotting in her bed!” + </p> + <p> + “Hortense, at this moment you are not a Christian. You ought to pray to + God to vouchsafe repentance to this wretched woman.” + </p> + <p> + “What are you talking about?” said Betty, rising from her couch. “Are you + speaking of Valerie?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” replied Adeline; “she is past hope—dying of some horrible + disease of which the mere description makes one shudder——” + </p> + <p> + Lisbeth’s teeth chattered, a cold sweat broke out all over her; the + violence of the shock showed how passionate her attachment to Valerie had + been. + </p> + <p> + “I must go there,” said she. + </p> + <p> + “But the doctor forbids your going out.” + </p> + <p> + “I do not care—I must go!—Poor Crevel! what a state he must be + in; for he loves that woman.” + </p> + <p> + “He is dying too,” replied Countess Steinbock. “Ah! all our enemies are in + the devil’s clutches—” + </p> + <p> + “In God’s hands, my child—” + </p> + <p> + Lisbeth dressed in the famous yellow Indian shawl and her black velvet + bonnet, and put on her boots; in spite of her relations’ remonstrances, + she set out as if driven by some irresistible power. + </p> + <p> + She arrived in the Rue Barbet a few minutes after Monsieur and Madame + Hulot, and found seven physicians there, brought by Bianchon to study this + unique case; he had just joined them. The physicians, assembled in the + drawing-room, were discussing the disease; now one and now another went + into Valerie’s room or Crevel’s to take a note, and returned with an + opinion based on this rapid study. + </p> + <p> + These princes of science were divided in their opinions. One, who stood + alone in his views, considered it a case of poisoning, of private revenge, + and denied its identity with the disease known in the Middle Ages. Three + others regarded it as a specific deterioration of the blood and the + humors. The rest, agreeing with Bianchon, maintained that the blood was + poisoned by some hitherto unknown morbid infection. Bianchon produced + Professor Duval’s analysis of the blood. The remedies to be applied, + though absolutely empirical and without hope, depended on the verdict in + this medical dilemma. + </p> + <p> + Lisbeth stood as if petrified three yards away from the bed where Valerie + lay dying, as she saw a priest from Saint-Thomas d’Aquin standing by her + friend’s pillow, and a sister of charity in attendance. Religion could + find a soul to save in a mass of rottenness which, of the five senses of + man, had now only that of sight. The sister of charity who alone had been + found to nurse Valerie stood apart. Thus the Catholic religion, that + divine institution, always actuated by the spirit of self-sacrifice, under + its twofold aspect of the Spirit and the Flesh, was tending this horrible + and atrocious creature, soothing her death-bed by its infinite benevolence + and inexhaustible stores of mercy. + </p> + <p> + The servants, in horror, refused to go into the room of either their + master or mistress; they thought only of themselves, and judged their + betters as righteously stricken. The smell was so foul that in spite of + open windows and strong perfumes, no one could remain long in Valerie’s + room. Religion alone kept guard there. + </p> + <p> + How could a woman so clever as Valerie fail to ask herself to what end + these two representatives of the Church remained with her? The dying woman + had listened to the words of the priest. Repentance had risen on her + darkened soul as the devouring malady had consumed her beauty. The fragile + Valerie had been less able to resist the inroads of the disease than + Crevel; she would be the first to succumb, and, indeed, had been the first + attacked. + </p> + <p> + “If I had not been ill myself, I would have come to nurse you,” said + Lisbeth at last, after a glance at her friend’s sunken eyes. “I have kept + my room this fortnight or three weeks; but when I heard of your state from + the doctor, I came at once.” + </p> + <p> + “Poor Lisbeth, you at least love me still, I see!” said Valerie. “Listen. + I have only a day or two left to think, for I cannot say to live. You see, + there is nothing left of me—I am a heap of mud! They will not let me + see myself in a glass.—Well, it is no more than I deserve. Oh, if I + might only win mercy, I would gladly undo all the mischief I have done.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” said Lisbeth, “if you can talk like that, you are indeed a dead + woman.” + </p> + <p> + “Do not hinder this woman’s repentance, leave her in her Christian mind,” + said the priest. + </p> + <p> + “There is nothing left!” said Lisbeth in consternation. “I cannot + recognize her eyes or her mouth! Not a feature of her is there! And her + wit has deserted her! Oh, it is awful!” + </p> + <p> + “You don’t know,” said Valerie, “what death is; what it is to be obliged + to think of the morrow of your last day on earth, and of what is to be + found in the grave.—Worms for the body—and for the soul, what?—Lisbeth, + I know there is another life! And I am given over to terrors which prevent + my feeling the pangs of my decomposing body.—I, who could laugh at a + saint, and say to Crevel that the vengeance of God took every form of + disaster.—Well, I was a true prophet.—Do not trifle with + sacred things, Lisbeth; if you love me, repent as I do.” + </p> + <p> + “I!” said Lisbeth. “I see vengeance wherever I turn in nature; insects + even die to satisfy the craving for revenge when they are attacked. And do + not these gentlemen tell us”—and she looked at the priest—“that + God is revenged, and that His vengeance lasts through all eternity?” + </p> + <p> + The priest looked mildly at Lisbeth and said: + </p> + <p> + “You, madame, are an atheist!” + </p> + <p> + “But look what I have come to,” said Valerie. + </p> + <p> + “And where did you get this gangrene?” asked the old maid, unmoved from + her peasant incredulity. + </p> + <p> + “I had a letter from Henri which leaves me in no doubt as to my fate. He + has murdered me. And—just when I meant to live honestly—to die + an object of disgust! + </p> + <p> + “Lisbeth, give up all notions of revenge. Be kind to that family to whom I + have left by my will everything I can dispose of. Go, child, though you + are the only creature who, at this hour, does not avoid me with horror—go, + I beseech you, and leave me.—I have only time to make my peace with + God!” + </p> + <p> + “She is wandering in her wits,” said Lisbeth to herself, as she left the + room. + </p> + <p> + The strongest affection known, that of a woman for a woman, had not such + heroic constancy as the Church. Lisbeth, stifled by the miasma, went away. + She found the physicians still in consultation. But Bianchon’s opinion + carried the day, and the only question now was how to try the remedies. + </p> + <p> + “At any rate, we shall have a splendid <i>post-mortem</i>,” said one of + his opponents, “and there will be two cases to enable us to make + comparisons.” + </p> + <p> + Lisbeth went in again with Bianchon, who went up to the sick woman without + seeming aware of the malodorous atmosphere. + </p> + <p> + “Madame,” said he, “we intend to try a powerful remedy which may save you—” + </p> + <p> + “And if you save my life,” said she, “shall I be as good-looking as ever?” + </p> + <p> + “Possibly,” said the judicious physician. + </p> + <p> + “I know your <i>possibly</i>,” said Valerie. “I shall look like a woman + who has fallen into the fire! No, leave me to the Church. I can please no + one now but God. I will try to be reconciled to Him, and that will be my + last flirtation; yes, I must try to come round God!” + </p> + <p> + “That is my poor Valerie’s last jest; that is all herself!” said Lisbeth + in tears. + </p> + <p> + Lisbeth thought it her duty to go into Crevel’s room, where she found + Victorin and his wife sitting about a yard away from the stricken man’s + bed. + </p> + <p> + “Lisbeth,” said he, “they will not tell me what state my wife is in; you + have just seen her—how is she?” + </p> + <p> + “She is better; she says she is saved,” replied Lisbeth, allowing herself + this play on the word to soothe Crevel’s mind. + </p> + <p> + “That is well,” said the Mayor. “I feared lest I had been the cause of her + illness. A man is not a traveler in perfumery for nothing; I had blamed + myself.—If I should lose her, what would become of me? On my honor, + my children, I worship that woman.” + </p> + <p> + He sat up in bed and tried to assume his favorite position. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Papa!” cried Celestine, “if only you could be well again, I would + make friends with my stepmother—I make a vow!” + </p> + <p> + “Poor little Celestine!” said Crevel, “come and kiss me.” + </p> + <p> + Victorin held back his wife, who was rushing forward. + </p> + <p> + “You do not know, perhaps,” said the lawyer gently, “that your disease is + contagious, monsieur.” + </p> + <p> + “To be sure,” replied Crevel. “And the doctors are quite proud of having + rediscovered in me some long lost plague of the Middle Ages, which the + Faculty has had cried like lost property—it is very funny!” + </p> + <p> + “Papa,” said Celestine, “be brave, and you will get the better of this + disease.” + </p> + <p> + “Be quite easy, my children; Death thinks twice of it before carrying off + a Mayor of Paris,” said he, with monstrous composure. “And if, after all, + my district is so unfortunate as to lose a man it has twice honored with + its suffrages—you see, what a flow of words I have!—Well, I + shall know how to pack up and go. I have been a commercial traveler; I am + experienced in such matters. Ah! my children, I am a man of strong mind.” + </p> + <p> + “Papa, promise me to admit the Church—” + </p> + <p> + “Never,” replied Crevel. “What is to be said? I drank the milk of + Revolution; I have not Baron Holbach’s wit, but I have his strength of + mind. I am more <i>Regence</i> than ever, more Musketeer, Abbe Dubois, and + Marechal de Richelieu! By the Holy Poker!—My wife, who is wandering + in her head, has just sent me a man in a gown—to me! the admirer of + Beranger, the friend of Lisette, the son of Voltaire and Rousseau.—The + doctor, to feel my pulse, as it were, and see if sickness had subdued me—‘You + saw Monsieur l’Abbe?’ said he.—Well, I imitated the great + Montesquieu. Yes, I looked at the doctor—see, like this,” and he + turned to show three-quarters face, like his portrait, and extended his + hand authoritatively—“and I said: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “The slave was here, + He showed his order, but he nothing gained. +</pre> + <p> + “<i>His order</i> is a pretty jest, showing that even in death Monsieur le + President de Montesquieu preserved his elegant wit, for they had sent him + a Jesuit. I admire that passage—I cannot say of his life, but of his + death—the passage—another joke!—The passage from life to + death—the Passage Montesquieu!” + </p> + <p> + Victorin gazed sadly at his father-in-law, wondering whether folly and + vanity were not forces on a par with true greatness of soul. The causes + that act on the springs of the soul seem to be quite independent of the + results. Can it be that the fortitude which upholds a great criminal is + the same as that which a Champcenetz so proudly walks to the scaffold? + </p> + <p> + By the end of the week Madame Crevel was buried, after dreadful + sufferings; and Crevel followed her within two days. Thus the + marriage-contract was annulled. Crevel was heir to Valerie. + </p> + <p> + On the very day after the funeral, the friar called again on the lawyer, + who received him in perfect silence. The monk held out his hand without a + word, and without a word Victorin Hulot gave him eighty thousand-franc + notes, taken from a sum of money found in Crevel’s desk. + </p> + <p> + Young Madame Hulot inherited the estate of Presles and thirty thousand + francs a year. + </p> + <p> + Madame Crevel had bequeathed a sum of three hundred thousand francs to + Baron Hulot. Her scrofulous boy Stanislas was to inherit, at his majority, + the Hotel Crevel and eighty thousand francs a year. + </p> + <p> + Among the many noble associations founded in Paris by Catholic charity, + there is one, originated by Madame de la Chanterie, for promoting civil + and religious marriages between persons who have formed a voluntary but + illicit union. Legislators, who draw large revenues from the registration + fees, and the Bourgeois dynasty, which benefits by the notary’s profits, + affect to overlook the fact that three-fourths of the poorer class cannot + afford fifteen francs for the marriage-contract. The pleaders, a + sufficiently vilified body, gratuitously defend the cases of the indigent, + while the notaries have not as yet agreed to charge nothing for the + marriage-contract of the poor. As to the revenue collectors, the whole + machinery of Government would have to be dislocated to induce the + authorities to relax their demands. The registrar’s office is deaf and + dumb. + </p> + <p> + Then the Church, too, receives a duty on marriages. In France the Church + depends largely on such revenues; even in the House of God it traffics in + chairs and kneeling stools in a way that offends foreigners; though it + cannot have forgotten the anger of the Saviour who drove the + money-changers out of the Temple. If the Church is so loath to relinquish + its dues, it must be supposed that these dues, known as Vestry dues, are + one of its sources of maintenance, and then the fault of the Church is the + fault of the State. + </p> + <p> + The co-operation of these conditions, at a time when charity is too + greatly concerned with the negroes and the petty offenders discharged from + prison to trouble itself about honest folks in difficulties, results in + the existence of a number of decent couples who have never been legally + married for lack of thirty francs, the lowest figure for which the Notary, + the Registrar, the Mayor and the Church will unite two citizens of Paris. + Madame de la Chanterie’s fund, founded to restore poor households to their + religious and legal status, hunts up such couples, and with all the more + success because it helps them in their poverty before attacking their + unlawful union. + </p> + <p> + As soon as Madame Hulot had recovered, she returned to her occupations. + And then it was that the admirable Madame de la Chanterie came to beg that + Adeline would add the legalization of these voluntary unions to the other + good works of which she was the instrument. + </p> + <p> + One of the Baroness’ first efforts in this cause was made in the + ominous-looking district, formerly known as la Petite Pologne—Little + Poland—bounded by the Rue du Rocher, Rue de la Pepiniere, and Rue de + Miromenil. There exists there a sort of offshoot of the Faubourg + Saint-Marceau. To give an idea of this part of the town, it is enough to + say that the landlords of some of the houses tenanted by working men + without work, by dangerous characters, and by the very poor employed in + unhealthy toil, dare not demand their rents, and can find no bailiffs bold + enough to evict insolvent lodgers. At the present time speculating + builders, who are fast changing the aspect of this corner of Paris, and + covering the waste ground lying between the Rue d’Amsterdam and the Rue + Faubourg-du-Roule, will no doubt alter the character of the inhabitants; + for the trowel is a more civilizing agent than is generally supposed. By + erecting substantial and handsome houses, with porters at the doors, by + bordering the streets with footwalks and shops, speculation, while raising + the rents, disperses the squalid class, families bereft of furniture, and + lodgers that cannot pay. And so these districts are cleared of such + objectionable residents, and the dens vanish into which the police never + venture but under the sanction of the law. + </p> + <p> + In June 1844, the purlieus of the Place de Laborde were still far from + inviting. The genteel pedestrian, who by chance should turn out of the Rue + de la Pepiniere into one of those dreadful side-streets, would have been + dismayed to see how vile a bohemia dwelt cheek by jowl with the + aristocracy. In such places as these, haunted by ignorant poverty and + misery driven to bay, flourish the last public letter-writers who are to + be found in Paris. Wherever you see the two words “Ecrivain Public” + written in a fine copy hand on a sheet of letter-paper stuck to the window + pane of some low entresol or mud-splashed ground-floor room, you may + safely conclude that the neighborhood is the lurking place of many + unlettered folks, and of much vice and crime, the outcome of misery; for + ignorance is the mother of all sorts of crime. A crime is, in the first + instance, a defect of reasoning powers. + </p> + <p> + While the Baroness had been ill, this quarter, to which she was a minor + Providence, had seen the advent of a public writer who settled in the + Passage du Soleil—Sun Alley—a spot of which the name is one of + the antitheses dear to the Parisian, for the passage is especially dark. + This writer, supposed to be a German, was named Vyder, and he lived on + matrimonial terms with a young creature of whom he was so jealous that he + never allowed her to go anywhere excepting to some honest stove and + flue-fitters, in the Rue Saint-Lazare, Italians, as such fitters always + are, but long since established in Paris. These people had been saved from + a bankruptcy, which would have reduced them to misery, by the Baroness, + acting in behalf of Madame de la Chanterie. In a few months comfort had + taken the place of poverty, and Religion had found a home in hearts which + once had cursed Heaven with the energy peculiar to Italian stove-fitters. + So one of Madame Hulot’s first visits was to this family. + </p> + <p> + She was pleased at the scene that presented itself to her eyes at the back + of the house where these worthy folks lived in the Rue Saint-Lazare, not + far from the Rue du Rocher. High above the stores and workshops, now well + filled, where toiled a swarm of apprentices and workmen—all Italians + from the valley of Domo d’Ossola—the master’s family occupied a set + of rooms, which hard work had blessed with abundance. The Baroness was + hailed like the Virgin Mary in person. + </p> + <p> + After a quarter of an hour’s questioning, Adeline, having to wait for the + father to inquire how his business was prospering, pursued her saintly + calling as a spy by asking whether they knew of any families needing help. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, dear lady, you who could save the damned from hell!” said the Italian + wife, “there is a girl quite near here to be saved from perdition.” + </p> + <p> + “A girl well known to you?” asked the Baroness. + </p> + <p> + “She is the granddaughter of a master my husband formerly worked for, who + came to France in 1798, after the Revolution, by name Judici. Old Judici, + in Napoleon’s time, was one of the principal stove-fitters in Paris; he + died in 1819, leaving his son a fine fortune. But the younger Judici + wasted all his money on bad women; till, at last, he married one who was + sharper than the rest, and she had this poor little girl, who is just + turned fifteen.” + </p> + <p> + “And what is wrong with her?” asked Adeline, struck by the resemblance + between this Judici and her husband. + </p> + <p> + “Well, madame, this child, named Atala, ran away from her father, and came + to live close by here with an old German of eighty at least, named Vyder, + who does odd jobs for people who cannot read and write. Now, if this old + sinner, who bought the child of her mother, they say for fifteen hundred + francs, would but marry her, as he certainly has not long to live, and as + he is said to have some few thousand of francs a year—well, the poor + thing, who is a sweet little angel, would be out of mischief, and above + want, which must be the ruin of her.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you very much for the information. I may do some good, but I must + act with caution.—Who is the old man?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! madame, he is a good old fellow; he makes the child very happy, and + he has some sense too, for he left the part of town where the Judicis + live, as I believe, to snatch the child from her mother’s clutches. The + mother was jealous of her, and I dare say she thought she could make money + out of her beauty and make a <i>mademoiselle</i> of the girl. + </p> + <p> + “Atala remembered us, and advised her gentleman to settle near us; and as + the good man sees how decent we are, he allows her to come here. But get + them married, madame, and you will do an action worthy of you. Once + married, the child will be independent and free from her mother, who keeps + an eye on her, and who, if she could make money by her, would like to see + her on the stage, or successful in the wicked life she meant her to lead.” + </p> + <p> + “Why doesn’t the old man marry her?” + </p> + <p> + “There was no necessity for it, you see,” said the Italian. “And though + old Vyder is not a bad old fellow, I fancy he is sharp enough to wish to + remain the master, while if he once got married—why, the poor man is + afraid of the stone that hangs round every old man’s neck.” + </p> + <p> + “Could you send for the girl to come here?” said Madame Hulot. “I should + see her quietly, and find out what could be done—” + </p> + <p> + The stove-fitter’s wife signed to her eldest girl, who ran off. Ten + minutes later she returned, leading by the hand a child of fifteen and a + half, a beauty of the Italian type. Mademoiselle Judici inherited from her + father that ivory skin which, rather yellow by day, is by artificial light + of lily-whiteness; eyes of Oriental beauty, form, and brilliancy, close + curling lashes like black feathers, hair of ebony hue, and that native + dignity of the Lombard race which makes the foreigner, as he walks through + Milan on a Sunday, fancy that every porter’s daughter is a princess. + </p> + <p> + Atala, told by the stove-fitter’s daughter that she was to meet the great + lady of whom she had heard so much, had hastily dressed in a black silk + gown, a smart little cape, and neat boots. A cap with a cherry-colored bow + added to the brilliant effect of her coloring. The child stood in an + attitude of artless curiosity, studying the Baroness out of the corner of + her eye, for her palsied trembling puzzled her greatly. + </p> + <p> + Adeline sighed deeply as she saw this jewel of womanhood in the mire of + prostitution, and determined to rescue her to virtue. + </p> + <p> + “What is your name, my dear?” + </p> + <p> + “Atala, madame.” + </p> + <p> + “And can you read and write?” + </p> + <p> + “No, madame; but that does not matter, as monsieur can.” + </p> + <p> + “Did your parents ever take you to church? Have you been to your first + Communion? Do you know your Catechism?” + </p> + <p> + “Madame, papa wanted to make me do something of the kind you speak of, but + mamma would not have it—” + </p> + <p> + “Your mother?” exclaimed the Baroness. “Is she bad to you, then?” + </p> + <p> + “She was always beating me. I don’t know why, but I was always being + quarreled over by my father and mother—” + </p> + <p> + “Did you ever hear of God?” cried the Baroness. + </p> + <p> + The girl looked up wide-eyed. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, papa and mamma often said ‘Good God,’ and ‘In God’s name,’ and + ‘God’s thunder,’” said she, with perfect simplicity. + </p> + <p> + “Then you never saw a church? Did you never think of going into one?” + </p> + <p> + “A church?—Notre-Dame, the Pantheon?—I have seen them from a + distance, when papa took me into town; but that was not very often. There + are no churches like those in the Faubourg.” + </p> + <p> + “Which Faubourg did you live in?” + </p> + <p> + “In the Faubourg.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but which?” + </p> + <p> + “In the Rue de Charonne, madame.” + </p> + <p> + The inhabitants of the Faubourg Saint-Antoine never call that notorious + district other than <i>the</i> Faubourg. To them it is the one and only + Faubourg; and manufacturers generally understand the words as meaning the + Faubourg Saint-Antoine. + </p> + <p> + “Did no one ever tell you what was right or wrong?” + </p> + <p> + “Mamma used to beat me when I did not do what pleased her.” + </p> + <p> + “But did you not know that it was very wicked to run away from your father + and mother to go to live with an old man?” + </p> + <p> + Atala Judici gazed at the Baroness with a haughty stare, but made no + reply. + </p> + <p> + “She is a perfect little savage,” murmured Adeline. + </p> + <p> + “There are a great many like her in the Faubourg, madame,” said the + stove-fitter’s wife. + </p> + <p> + “But she knows nothing—not even what is wrong. Good Heavens!—Why + do you not answer me?” said Madame Hulot, putting out her hand to take + Atala’s. + </p> + <p> + Atala indignantly withdrew a step. + </p> + <p> + “You are an old fool!” said she. “Why, my father and mother had had + nothing to eat for a week. My mother wanted me to do much worse than that, + I think, for my father thrashed her and called her a thief! However, + Monsieur Vyder paid all their debts, and gave them some money—oh, a + bagful! And he brought me away, and poor papa was crying. But we had to + part!—Was it wicked?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “And are you very fond of Monsieur Vyder?” + </p> + <p> + “Fond of him?” said she. “I should think so! He tells me beautiful + stories, madame, every evening; and he has given me nice gowns, and linen, + and a shawl. Why, I am figged out like a princess, and I never wear sabots + now. And then, I have not known what it is to be hungry these two months + past. And I don’t live on potatoes now. He brings me bonbons and burnt + almonds, and chocolate almonds.—Aren’t they good?—I do + anything he pleases for a bag of chocolate.—Then my old Daddy is + very kind; he takes such care of me, and is so nice; I know now what my + mother ought to have been.—He is going to get an old woman to help + me, for he doesn’t like me to dirty my hands with cooking. For the past + month, too, he has been making a little money, and he gives me three + francs every evening that I put into a money-box. Only he will never let + me out except to come here—and he calls me his little kitten! Mamma + never called me anything but bad names—and thief, and vermin!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, my child, why should not Daddy Vyder be your husband?” + </p> + <p> + “But he is, madame,” said the girl, looking at Adeline with calm pride, + without a blush, her brow smooth, her eyes steady. “He told me that I was + his little wife; but it is a horrid bore to be a man’s wife—if it + were not for the burnt almonds!” + </p> + <p> + “Good Heaven!” said the Baroness to herself, “what monster can have had + the heart to betray such perfect, such holy innocence? To restore this + child to the ways of virtue would surely atone for many sins.—I knew + what I was doing.” thought she, remembering the scene with Crevel. “But + she—she knows nothing.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you know Monsieur Samanon?” asked Atala, with an insinuating look. + </p> + <p> + “No, my child; but why do you ask?” + </p> + <p> + “Really and truly?” said the artless girl. + </p> + <p> + “You have nothing to fear from this lady,” said the Italian woman. “She is + an angel.” + </p> + <p> + “It is because my good old boy is afraid of being caught by Samanon. He is + hiding, and I wish he could be free—” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” + </p> + <p> + “On! then he would take me to Bobino, perhaps to the Ambigu.” + </p> + <p> + “What a delightful creature!” said the Baroness, kissing the girl. + </p> + <p> + “Are you rich?” asked Atala, who was fingering the Baroness’ lace ruffles. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, and No,” replied Madame Hulot. “I am rich for dear little girls like + you when they are willing to be taught their duties as Christians by a + priest, and to walk in the right way.” + </p> + <p> + “What way is that?” said Atala; “I walk on my two feet.” + </p> + <p> + “The way of virtue.” + </p> + <p> + Atala looked at the Baroness with a crafty smile. + </p> + <p> + “Look at madame,” said the Baroness, pointing to the stove-fitter’s wife, + “she has been quite happy because she was received into the bosom of the + Church. You married like the beasts that perish.” + </p> + <p> + “I?” said Atala. “Why, if you will give me as much as Daddy Vyder gives + me, I shall be quite happy unmarried again. It is a grind.—Do you + know what it is to—?” + </p> + <p> + “But when once you are united to a man as you are,” the Baroness put in, + “virtue requires you to remain faithful to him.” + </p> + <p> + “Till he dies,” said Atala, with a knowing flash. “I shall not have to + wait long. If you only knew how Daddy Vyder coughs and blows.—Poof, + poof,” and she imitated the old man. + </p> + <p> + “Virtue and morality require that the Church, representing God, and the + Mayor, representing the law, should consecrate your marriage,” Madame + Hulot went on. “Look at madame; she is legally married—” + </p> + <p> + “Will it make it more amusing?” asked the girl. + </p> + <p> + “You will be happier,” said the Baroness, “for no one could then blame + you. You would satisfy God! Ask her if she was married without the + sacrament of marriage!” + </p> + <p> + Atala looked at the Italian. + </p> + <p> + “How is she any better than I am?” she asked. “I am prettier than she is.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but I am an honest woman,” said the wife, “and you may be called by + a bad name.” + </p> + <p> + “How can you expect God to protect you if you trample every law, human and + divine, under foot?” said the Baroness. “Don’t you know that God has + Paradise in store for those who obey the injunctions of His Church?” + </p> + <p> + “What is there in Paradise? Are there playhouses?” + </p> + <p> + “Paradise!” said Adeline, “is every joy you can conceive of. It is full of + angels with white wings. You see God in all His glory, you share His + power, you are happy for every minute of eternity!” + </p> + <p> + Atala listened to the lady as she might have listened to music; but + Adeline, seeing that she was incapable of understanding her, thought she + had better take another line of action and speak to the old man. + </p> + <p> + “Go home, then, my child, and I will go to see Monsieur Vyder. Is he a + Frenchman?” + </p> + <p> + “He is an Alsatian, madame. But he will be quite rich soon. If you would + pay what he owes to that vile Samanon, he would give you back your money, + for in a few months he will be getting six thousand francs a year, he + says, and we are to go to live in the country a long way off, in the + Vosges.” + </p> + <p> + At the word <i>Vosges</i> the Baroness sat lost in reverie. It called up + the vision of her native village. She was roused from her melancholy + meditation by the entrance of the stove-fitter, who came to assure her of + his prosperity. + </p> + <p> + “In a year’s time, madame, I can repay the money you lent us, for it is + God’s money, the money of the poor and wretched. If ever I make a fortune, + come to me for what you want, and I will render through you the help to + others which you first brought us.” + </p> + <p> + “Just now,” said Madame Hulot, “I do not need your money, but I ask your + assistance in a good work. I have just seen that little Judici, who is + living with an old man, and I mean to see them regularly and legally + married.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! old Vyder; he is a very worthy old fellow, with plenty of good sense. + The poor old man has already made friends in the neighborhood, though he + has been here but two months. He keeps my accounts for me. He is, I + believe, a brave Colonel who served the Emperor well. And how he adores + Napoleon!—He has some orders, but he never wears them. He is waiting + till he is straight again, for he is in debt, poor old boy! In fact, I + believe he is hiding, threatened by the law—” + </p> + <p> + “Tell him that I will pay his debts if he will marry the child.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, that will soon be settled.—Suppose you were to see him, madame; + it is not two steps away, in the Passage du Soleil.” + </p> + <p> + So the lady and the stove-fitter went out. + </p> + <p> + “This way, madame,” said the man, turning down the Rue de la Pepiniere. + </p> + <p> + The alley runs, in fact, from the bottom of this street through to the Rue + du Rocher. Halfway down this passage, recently opened through, where the + shops let at a very low rent, the Baroness saw on a window, screened up to + a height with a green, gauze curtain, which excluded the prying eyes of + the passer-by, the words: + </p> + <p> + “ECRIVAIN PUBLIC”; and on the door the announcement: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + BUSINESS TRANSACTED. + + <i>Petitions Drawn Up, Accounts Audited, Etc.</i> + + <i>With Secrecy and Dispatch.</i> +</pre> + <p> + The shop was like one of those little offices where travelers by omnibus + wait the vehicles to take them on to their destination. A private + staircase led up, no doubt, to the living-rooms on the entresol which were + let with the shop. Madame Hulot saw a dirty writing-table of some light + wood, some letter-boxes, and a wretched second-hand chair. A cap with a + peak and a greasy green shade for the eyes suggested either precautions + for disguise, or weak eyes, which was not unlikely in an old man. + </p> + <p> + “He is upstairs,” said the stove-fitter. “I will go up and tell him to + come down.” + </p> + <p> + Adeline lowered her veil and took a seat. A heavy step made the narrow + stairs creak, and Adeline could not restrain a piercing cry when she saw + her husband, Baron Hulot, in a gray knitted jersey, old gray flannel + trousers, and slippers. + </p> + <p> + “What is your business, madame?” said Hulot, with a flourish. + </p> + <p> + She rose, seized Hulot by the arm, and said in a voice hoarse with + emotion: + </p> + <p> + “At last—I have found you!” + </p> + <p> + “Adeline!” exclaimed the Baron in bewilderment, and he locked the shop + door. “Joseph, go out the back way,” he added to the stove-fitter. + </p> + <p> + “My dear!” she said, forgetting everything in her excessive joy, “you can + come home to us all; we are rich. Your son draws a hundred and sixty + thousand francs a year! Your pension is released; there are fifteen + thousand francs of arrears you can get on showing that you are alive. + Valerie is dead, and left you three hundred thousand francs. + </p> + <p> + “Your name is quite forgotten by this time; you may reappear in the world, + and you will find a fortune awaiting you at your son’s house. Come; our + happiness will be complete. For nearly three years I have been seeking + you, and I felt so sure of finding you that a room is ready waiting for + you. Oh! come away from this, come away from the dreadful state I see you + in!” + </p> + <p> + “I am very willing,” said the bewildered Baron, “but can I take the girl?” + </p> + <p> + “Hector, give her up! Do that much for your Adeline, who has never before + asked you to make the smallest sacrifice. I promise you I will give the + child a marriage portion; I will see that she marries well, and has some + education. Let it be said of one of the women who have given you happiness + that she too is happy; and do not relapse into vice, into the mire.” + </p> + <p> + “So it was you,” said the Baron, with a smile, “who wanted to see me + married?—Wait a few minutes,” he added; “I will go upstairs and + dress; I have some decent clothes in a trunk.” + </p> + <p> + Adeline, left alone, and looking round the squalid shop, melted into + tears. + </p> + <p> + “He has been living here, and we rolling in wealth!” said she to herself. + “Poor man, he has indeed been punished—he who was elegance itself.” + </p> + <p> + The stove-fitter returned to make his bow to his benefactress, and she + desired him to fetch a coach. When he came back, she begged him to give + little Atala Judici a home, and to take her away at once. + </p> + <p> + “And tell her that if she will place herself under the guidance of + Monsieur the Cure of the Madeleine, on the day when she attends her first + Communion I will give her thirty thousand francs and find her a good + husband, some worthy young man.” + </p> + <p> + “My eldest son, then madame! He is two-and-twenty, and he worships the + child.” + </p> + <p> + The Baron now came down; there were tears in his eyes. + </p> + <p> + “You are forcing me to desert the only creature who had ever begun to love + me at all as you do!” said he in a whisper to his wife. “She is crying + bitterly, and I cannot abandon her so—” + </p> + <p> + “Be quite easy, Hector. She will find a home with honest people, and I + will answer for her conduct.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, I can go with you,” said the Baron, escorting his wife to the + cab. + </p> + <p> + Hector, the Baron d’Ervy once more, had put on a blue coat and trousers, a + white waistcoat, a black stock, and gloves. When the Baroness had taken + her seat in the vehicle, Atala slipped in like an eel. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, madame,” she said, “let me go with you. I will be so good, so + obedient; I will do whatever you wish; but do not part me from my Daddy + Vyder, my kind Daddy who gives me such nice things. I shall be beaten—” + </p> + <p> + “Come, come, Atala,” said the Baron, “this lady is my wife—we must + part—” + </p> + <p> + “She! As old as that! and shaking like a leaf!” said the child. “Look at + her head!” and she laughingly mimicked the Baroness’ palsy. + </p> + <p> + The stove-fitter, who had run after the girl, came to the carriage door. + </p> + <p> + “Take her away!” said Adeline. The man put his arms round Atala and fairly + carried her off. + </p> + <p> + “Thanks for such a sacrifice, my dearest,” said Adeline, taking the + Baron’s hand and clutching it with delirious joy. “How much you are + altered! you must have suffered so much! What a surprise for Hortense and + for your son!” + </p> + <p> + Adeline talked as lovers talk who meet after a long absence, of a hundred + things at once. + </p> + <p> + In ten minutes the Baron and his wife reached the Rue Louis-le-Grand, and + there Adeline found this note awaiting her:— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “MADAME LA BARONNE,— + + “Monsieur le Baron Hulot d’Ervy lived for one month in the Rue de + Charonne under the name of Thorec, an anagram of Hector. He is now + in the Passage du Soleil by the name of Vyder. He says he is an + Alsatian, and does writing, and he lives with a girl named Atala + Judici. Be very cautious, madame, for search is on foot; the Baron + is wanted, on what score I know not. + + “The actress has kept her word, and remains, as ever, + + “Madame la Baronne, your humble servant, + + “J. M.” + </pre> + <p> + The Baron’s return was hailed with such joy as reconciled him to domestic + life. He forgot little Atala Judici, for excesses of profligacy had + reduced him to the volatility of feeling that is characteristic of + childhood. But the happiness of the family was dashed by the change that + had come over him. He had been still hale when he had gone away from his + home; he had come back almost a hundred, broken, bent, and his expression + even debased. + </p> + <p> + A splendid dinner, improvised by Celestine, reminded the old man of the + singer’s banquets; he was dazzled by the splendor of his home. + </p> + <p> + “A feast in honor of the return of the prodigal father?” said he in a + murmur to Adeline. + </p> + <p> + “Hush!” said she, “all is forgotten.” + </p> + <p> + “And Lisbeth?” he asked, not seeing the old maid. + </p> + <p> + “I am sorry to say that she is in bed,” replied Hortense. “She can never + get up, and we shall have the grief of losing her ere long. She hopes to + see you after dinner.” + </p> + <p> + At daybreak next morning Victorin Hulot was informed by the porter’s wife + that soldiers of the municipal guard were posted all round the premises; + the police demanded Baron Hulot. The bailiff, who had followed the woman, + laid a summons in due form before the lawyer, and asked him whether he + meant to pay his father’s debts. The claim was for ten thousand francs at + the suit of an usurer named Samanon, who had probably lent the Baron two + or three thousand at most. Victorin desired the bailiff to dismiss his + men, and paid. + </p> + <p> + “But is it the last?” he anxiously wondered. + </p> + <p> + Lisbeth, miserable already at seeing the family so prosperous, could not + survive this happy event. She grew so rapidly worse that Bianchon gave her + but a week to live, conquered at last in the long struggle in which she + had scored so many victories. + </p> + <p> + She kept the secret of her hatred even through a painful death from + pulmonary consumption. And, indeed, she had the supreme satisfaction of + seeing Adeline, Hortense, Hulot, Victorin, Steinbock, Celestine, and their + children standing in tears round her bed and mourning for her as the angel + of the family. + </p> + <p> + Baron Hulot, enjoying a course of solid food such as he had not known for + nearly three years, recovered flesh and strength, and was almost himself + again. This improvement was such a joy to Adeline that her nervous + trembling perceptibly diminished. + </p> + <p> + “She will be happy after all,” said Lisbeth to herself on the day before + she died, as she saw the veneration with which the Baron regarded his + wife, of whose sufferings he had heard from Hortense and Victorin. + </p> + <p> + And vindictiveness hastened Cousin Betty’s end. The family followed her, + weeping, to the grave. + </p> + <p> + The Baron and Baroness, having reached the age which looks for perfect + rest, gave up the handsome rooms on the first floor to the Count and + Countess Steinbock, and took those above. The Baron by his son’s exertions + found an official position in the management of a railroad, in 1845, with + a salary of six thousand francs, which, added to the six thousand of his + pension and the money left to him by Madame Crevel, secured him an income + of twenty-four thousand francs. Hortense having enjoyed her independent + income during the three years of separation from Wenceslas, Victorin now + invested the two hundred thousand francs he had in trust, in his sister’s + name and he allowed her twelve thousand francs. + </p> + <p> + Wenceslas, as the husband of a rich woman, was not unfaithful, but he was + an idler; he could not make up his mind to begin any work, however + trifling. Once more he became the artist <i>in partibus</i>; he was + popular in society, and consulted by amateurs; in short, he became a + critic, like all the feeble folk who fall below their promise. + </p> + <p> + Thus each household, though living as one family, had its own fortune. The + Baroness, taught by bitter experience, left the management of matters to + her son, and the Baron was thus reduced to his salary, in hope that the + smallness of his income would prevent his relapsing into mischief. And by + some singular good fortune, on which neither the mother nor the son had + reckoned, Hulot seemed to have foresworn the fair sex. His subdued + behaviour, ascribed to the course of nature, so completely reassured the + family, that they enjoyed to the full his recovered amiability and + delightful qualities. He was unfailingly attentive to his wife and + children, escorted them to the play, reappeared in society, and did the + honors to his son’s house with exquisite grace. In short, this reclaimed + prodigal was the joy of his family. + </p> + <p> + He was a most agreeable old man, a ruin, but full of wit, having retained + no more of his vice than made it an added social grace. + </p> + <p> + Of course, everybody was quite satisfied and easy. The young people and + the Baroness lauded the model father to the skies, forgetting the death of + the two uncles. Life cannot go on without much forgetting! + </p> + <p> + Madame Victorin, who managed this enormous household with great skill, + due, no doubt, to Lisbeth’s training, had found it necessary to have a + man-cook. This again necessitated a kitchen-maid. Kitchen-maids are in + these days ambitious creatures, eager to detect the <i>chef’s</i> secrets, + and to become cooks as soon as they have learnt to stir a sauce. + Consequently, the kitchen-maid is liable to frequent change. + </p> + <p> + At the beginning of 1845 Celestine engaged as kitchen-maid a sturdy + Normandy peasant come from Isigny—short-waisted, with strong red + arms, a common face, as dull as an “occasional piece” at the play, and + hardly to be persuaded out of wearing the classical linen cap peculiar to + the women of Lower Normandy. This girl, as buxom as a wet-nurse, looked as + if she would burst the blue cotton check in which she clothed her person. + Her florid face might have been hewn out of stone, so hard were its tawny + outlines. + </p> + <p> + Of course no attention was paid to the advent in the house of this girl, + whose name was Agathe—an ordinary, wide-awake specimen, such as is + daily imported from the provinces. Agathe had no attractions for the cook, + her tongue was too rough, for she had served in a suburban inn, waiting on + carters; and instead of making a conquest of her chief and winning from + him the secrets of the high art of the kitchen, she was the object of his + great contempt. The <i>chef’s</i> attentions were, in fact, devoted to + Louise, the Countess Steinbock’s maid. The country girl, thinking herself + ill-used, complained bitterly that she was always sent out of the way on + some pretext when the <i>chef</i> was finishing a dish or putting the + crowning touch to a sauce. + </p> + <p> + “I am out of luck,” said she, “and I shall go to another place.” + </p> + <p> + And yet she stayed though she had twice given notice to quit. + </p> + <p> + One night, Adeline, roused by some unusual noise, did not see Hector in + the bed he occupied near hers; for they slept side by side in two beds, as + beseemed an old couple. She lay awake an hour, but he did not return. + Seized with a panic, fancying some tragic end had overtaken him—an + apoplectic attack, perhaps—she went upstairs to the floor occupied + by the servants, and then was attracted to the room where Agathe slept, + partly by seeing a light below the door, and partly by the murmur of + voices. She stood still in dismay on recognizing the voice of her husband, + who, a victim to Agathe’s charms, to vanquish this strapping wench’s not + disinterested resistance, went to the length of saying: + </p> + <p> + “My wife has not long to live, and if you like you may be a Baroness.” + </p> + <p> + Adeline gave a cry, dropped her candlestick, and fled. + </p> + <p> + Three days later the Baroness, who had received the last sacraments, was + dying, surrounded by her weeping family. + </p> + <p> + Just before she died, she took her husband’s hand and pressed it, + murmuring in his ear: + </p> + <p> + “My dear, I had nothing left to give up to you but my life. In a minute or + two you will be free, and can make another Baronne Hulot.” + </p> + <p> + And, rare sight, tears oozed from her dead eyes. + </p> + <p> + This desperateness of vice had vanquished the patience of the angel, who, + on the brink of eternity, gave utterance to the only reproach she had ever + spoken in her life. + </p> + <p> + The Baron left Paris three days after his wife’s funeral. Eleven months + after Victorin heard indirectly of his father’s marriage to Mademoiselle + Agathe Piquetard, solemnized at Isigny, on the 1st February 1846. + </p> + <p> + “Parents may hinder their children’s marriage, but children cannot + interfere with the insane acts of their parents in their second + childhood,” said Maitre Hulot to Maitre Popinot, the second son of the + Minister of Commerce, who was discussing this marriage. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + ADDENDUM + </h2> + <h3> + The following personages appear in other stories of the Human Comedy. + </h3> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Beauvisage, Phileas + The Member for Arcis + + Berthier (Parisian notary) + Cousin Pons + + Bianchon, Horace + Father Goriot + The Atheist’s Mass + Cesar Birotteau + The Commission in Lunacy + Lost Illusions + A Distinguished Provincial at Paris + A Bachelor’s Establishment + The Secrets of a Princess + The Government Clerks + Pierrette + A Study of Woman + Scenes from a Courtesan’s Life + Honorine + The Seamy Side of History + The Magic Skin + A Second Home + A Prince of Bohemia + Letters of Two Brides + The Muse of the Department + The Imaginary Mistress + The Middle Classes + The Country Parson + In addition, M. Bianchon narrated the following: + Another Study of Woman + La Grande Breteche + + Bixiou, Jean-Jacques + The Purse + A Bachelor’s Establishment + The Government Clerks + Modeste Mignon + Scenes from a Courtesan’s Life + The Firm of Nucingen + The Muse of the Department + The Member for Arcis + Beatrix + A Man of Business + Gaudissart II. + The Unconscious Humorists + Cousin Pons + + Braulard + A Distinguished Provincial at Paris + Cousin Pons + + Bridau, Joseph + The Purse + A Bachelor’s Establishment + A Distinguished Provincial at Paris + A Start in Life + Modeste Mignon + Another Study of Woman + Pierre Grassou + Letters of Two Brides + The Member for Arcis + + Brisetout, Heloise + Cousin Pons + The Middle Classes + + Cadine, Jenny + Beatrix + The Unconscious Humorists + The Member for Arcis + + Chanor + Cousin Pons + + Chocardelle, Mademoiselle + Beatrix + A Prince of Bohemia + A Man of Business + The Member for Arcis + + Colleville, Flavie Minoret, Madame + The Government Clerks + The Middle Classes + + Collin, Jacqueline + Scenes from a Courtesan’s Life + The Unconscious Humorists + + Crevel, Celestin + Cesar Birotteau + Cousin Pons + + Esgrignon, Victurnien, Comte (then Marquis d’) + Jealousies of a Country Town + Letters of Two Brides + A Man of Business + The Secrets of a Princess + + Falcon, Jean + The Chouans + The Muse of the Department + + Graff, Wolfgang + Cousin Pons + + Grassou, Pierre + Pierre Grassou + A Bachelor’s Establishment + The Middle Classes + Cousin Pons + + Grindot + Cesar Birotteau + Lost Illusions + A Distinguished Provincial at Paris + A Start in Life + Scenes from a Courtesan’s Life + Beatrix + The Middle Classes + + Hannequin, Leopold + Albert Savarus + Beatrix + Cousin Pons + + Herouville, Duc d’ + The Hated Son + Jealousies of a Country Town + Modeste Mignon + + Hulot (Marshal) + The Chouans + The Muse of the Department + + Hulot, Victorin + The Member for Arcis + + La Bastie la Briere, Madame Ernest de + Modeste Mignon + The Member for Arcis + + La Baudraye, Madame Polydore Milaud de + The Muse of the Department + A Prince of Bohemia + + La Chanterie, Baronne Henri le Chantre de + The Seamy Side of History + + Laginski, Comte Adam Mitgislas + Another Study of Woman + The Imaginary Mistress + + La Palferine, Comte de + A Prince of Bohemia + A Man of Business + Beatrix + The Imaginary Mistress + + La Roche-Hugon, Martial de + Domestic Peace + The Peasantry + A Daughter of Eve + The Member for Arcis + The Middle Classes + + Lebas, Joseph + At the Sign of the Cat and Racket + Cesar Birotteau + + Lebas, Madame Joseph (Virginie) + At the Sign of the Cat and Racket + Cesar Birotteau + + Lebas + The Muse of the Department + + Lefebvre, Robert + The Gondreville Mystery + + Lenoncourt-Givry, Duc de + Letters of Two Brides + The Member for Arcis + + Lora, Leon de + The Unconscious Humorists + A Bachelor’s Establishment + A Start in Life + Pierre Grassou + Honorine + Beatrix + + Lousteau, Etienne + A Distinguished Provincial at Paris + A Bachelor’s Establishment + Scenes from a Courtesan’s Life + A Daughter of Eve + Beatrix + The Muse of the Department + A Prince of Bohemia + A Man of Business + The Middle Classes + The Unconscious Humorists + + Massol + Scenes from a Courtesan’s Life + The Magic Skin + A Daughter of Eve + The Unconscious Humorists + + Montauran, Marquis de (younger brother of Alphonse de) + The Chouans + The Seamy Side of History + + Montcornet, Marechal, Comte de + Domestic Peace + Lost Illusions + A Distinguished Provincial at Paris + Scenes from a Courtesan’s Life + The Peasantry + A Man of Business + + Navarreins, Duc de + A Bachelor’s Establishment + Colonel Chabert + The Muse of the Department + The Thirteen + Jealousies of a Country Town + The Peasantry + Scenes from a Courtesan’s Life + The Country Parson + The Magic Skin + The Gondreville Mystery + The Secrets of a Princess + + Nourrisson, Madame + Scenes from a Courtesan’s Life + The Unconscious Humorists + + Nucingen, Baron Frederic de + The Firm of Nucingen + Father Goriot + Pierrette + Cesar Birotteau + Lost Illusions + A Distinguished Provincial at Paris + Scenes from a Courtesan’s Life + Another Study of Woman + The Secrets of a Princess + A Man of Business + The Muse of the Department + The Unconscious Humorists + + Paz, Thaddee + The Imaginary Mistress + + Popinot, Anselme + Cesar Birotteau + Gaudissart the Great + Cousin Pons + + Popinot, Madame Anselme + Cesar Birotteau + A Prince of Bohemia + Cousin Pons + + Popinot, Vicomte + Cousin Pons + + Rastignac, Eugene de + Father Goriot + A Distinguished Provincial at Paris + Scenes from a Courtesan’s Life + The Ball at Sceaux + The Commission in Lunacy + A Study of Woman + Another Study of Woman + The Magic Skin + The Secrets of a Princess + A Daughter of Eve + The Gondreville Mystery + The Firm of Nucingen + The Member for Arcis + The Unconscious Humorists + + Rivet, Achille + Cousin Pons + + Rochefide, Marquis Arthur de + Beatrix + + Ronceret, Madame Fabien du + Beatrix + The Muse of the Department + The Unconscious Humorists + + Samanon + A Distinguished Provincial at Paris + The Government Clerks + A Man of Business + + Sinet, Seraphine + The Unconscious Humorists + + Steinbock, Count Wenceslas + The Imaginary Mistress + + Stidmann + Modeste Mignon + Beatrix + The Member for Arcis + Cousin Pons + The Unconscious Humorists + + Tillet, Ferdinand du + Cesar Birotteau + The Firm of Nucingen + The Middle Classes + A Bachelor’s Establishment + Pierrette + Melmoth Reconciled + A Distinguished Provincial at Paris + The Secrets of a Princess + A Daughter of Eve + The Member for Arcis + The Unconscious Humorists + + Trailles, Comte Maxime de + Cesar Birotteau + Father Goriot + Gobseck + Ursule Mirouet + A Man of Business + The Member for Arcis + The Secrets of a Princess + The Member for Arcis + Beatrix + The Unconscious Humorists + + Turquet, Marguerite + The Imaginary Mistress + The Muse of the Department + A Man of Business + + Vauvinet + The Unconscious Humorists + + Vernisset, Victor de + The Seamy Side of History + Beatrix + + Vernou, Felicien + A Bachelor’s Establishment + Lost Illusions + A Distinguished Provincial at Paris + Scenes from a Courtesan’s Life + A Daughter of Eve + + Vignon, Claude + A Distinguished Provincial at Paris + A Daughter of Eve + Honorine + Beatrix + The Unconscious Humorists +</pre> + <div style="height: 6em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Cousin Betty, by Honore de Balzac + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK COUSIN BETTY *** + +***** This file should be named 1749-h.htm or 1749-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/7/4/1749/ + +Produced by John Bickers, and Dagny, and David Widger + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from 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