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diff --git a/2077-h/2077-h.htm b/2077-h/2077-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..4906118 --- /dev/null +++ b/2077-h/2077-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,17780 @@ +<?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> + The Nabob, by Alphonse Daudet + </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 The Nabob, by Alphonse Daudet + +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: The Nabob + +Author: Alphonse Daudet + +Translator: W. Blaydes + +Release Date: March 21, 2006 [EBook #2077] +Last Updated: October 1, 2016 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE NABOB *** + + + + +Produced by Dagny, John Bickers, and David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h1> + THE NABOB + </h1> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + by Alphonse Daudet + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h3> + Translated By W. Blaydes + </h3> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <blockquote> + <p class="toc"> + <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_INTR"> INTRODUCTION </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0003"> <big><b>THE NABOB</b></big> </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0004"> DOCTOR JENKIN’S PATIENTS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0005"> A LUNCHEON IN THE PLACE VENDOME </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0006"> MEMOIRS OF AN OFFICE PORTER A MERE GLANCE AT + THE TERRITORIAL BANK </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0007"> A DEBUT IN SOCIETY </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0008"> THE JOYEUSE FAMILY </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0009"> FELICIA RUYS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0010"> JANSOULET AT HOME </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0011"> THE BETHLEHEM SOCIETY </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0012"> BONNE MAMAN </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0013"> MEMOIRS OF AN OFFICE PORTER SERVANTS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0014"> THE FESTIVITIES IN HONOUR OF THE BEY </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0015"> A CORSICAN ELECTION </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0016"> A DAY OF SPLEEN </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0017"> THE EXHIBITION </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0018"> MEMOIRS OF AN OFFICE PORTER IN THE ANTCHAMBER + </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0019"> A PUBLIC MAN </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0020"> THE APPARITION </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0021"> THE JENKINS PEARLS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0022"> THE FUNERAL </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0023"> LA BARONNE HEMERLINGUE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0024"> THE SITTING </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0025"> DRAMAS OF PARIS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0026"> MEMOIRS OF AN OFFICE PORTER THE LAST LEAVES + </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0027"> AT BORDIGHERA </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0028"> THE FIRST NIGHT OF “REVOLT” </a> + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_INTR" id="link2H_INTR"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h2> + INTRODUCTION + </h2> + <p> + Daudet once remarked that England was the last of foreign countries to + welcome his novels, and that he was surprised at the fact, since for him, + as for the typical Englishman, the intimacy of home life had great + significance. However long he may have taken to win Anglo-Saxon hearts, + there is no question that he finally won them more completely than any + other contemporary French novelist was able to do, and that when but a few + years since the news came that death had released him from his sufferings, + thousands of men and women, both in England and in America, felt that they + had lost a real friend. Just at the present moment one does not hear or + read a great deal about him, but a similar lull in criticism follows the + deaths of most celebrities of whatever kind, and it can scarcely be + doubted that Daudet is every day making new friends, while it is as sure + as anything of the sort can be that it is death, not estrangement, that + has lessened the number of his former admirers. + </p> + <p> + “Admirers”? The word is much too cold. “Lovers” would serve better, but is + perhaps too expansive to be used of a self-contained race. “Friends” is + more appropriate because heartier, for hearty the relations between Daudet + and his Anglo-Saxon readers certainly were. Whether it was that some of us + saw in him that hitherto unguessed-at phenomenon, a French Dickens—not + an imitator, indeed, but a kindred spirit—or that others found in + him a refined, a volatilized “Mark Twain,” with a flavour of Cervantes, or + that still others welcomed him as a writer of naturalistic fiction that + did not revolt, or finally that most of us enjoyed him because whatever he + wrote was as steeped in the radiance of his own exquisitely charming + personality as a picture of Corot’s is in the light of the sun itself—whatever + may have been the reason, Alphonse Daudet could count before he died + thousands of genuine friends in England and America who were loyal to him + in spite of the declining power shown in his latest books, in spite even + of the strain which <i>Sapho</i> laid upon their Puritan consciences. + </p> + <p> + It is likely that a majority of these friends were won by the two great + Tartarin books and by the chief novels, <i>Fromont</i>, <i>Jack</i>, <i>The + Nabob</i>, <i>Kings in Exile</i>, and <i>Numa</i>, aided by the artistic + sketches and short stories contained in <i>Letters from my Mill</i> and <i>Monday + Tales (Contes du Lundi)</i>. The strong but overwrought <i>Evangelist</i>, + <i>Sapho</i>—which of course belongs with the chief novels from the + Continental but not from the insular point of view—and the books of + Daudet’s decadence, <i>The Immortal</i>, and the rest, cost him few + friendships, but scarcely gained him many. His delightful essays in + autobiography, whether in fiction, <i>Le Petit Chose (Little + What’s-his-Name)</i>, or in <i>Thirty Years of Paris</i> and <i>Souvenirs + of a Man of Letters</i>, doubtless sealed more friendships than they made; + but they can be almost as safely recommended as the more notable novels to + readers who have yet to make Daudet’s acquaintance. + </p> + <p> + For the man and his career are as unaffectedly charming as his style, and + more of a piece than his elaborate works of fiction. A sunny Provencal + childhood is clouded by family misfortunes; then comes a year of wretched + slavery as usher in a provincial school; then the inevitable journey to + Paris with a brain full of verses and dreams, and the beginning of a life + of Bohemian nonchalance, to which we Anglo-Saxons have little that is + comparable outside the career of Oliver Goldsmith. But poor Goldsmith had + his pride wounded by the editorial tyranny of a Mrs. Griffiths. Daudet, by + a merely pretty poem about a youth and maiden making love under a + plum-tree, won the protection of the Empress Eugenie, and through her of + the Duke de Morny, the prop of the Second Empire. His life now reads like + a fairy-tale inserted by some jocular elf into that book of dolors + entitled <i>The Lives of Men of Genius</i>. A <i>protege</i> of a + potentate not usually lavish of his favours, and a valetudinarian, he is + allowed to flit to Algiers and Corsica, to enjoy his beloved Provence in + company with Mistral, to write for the theatres, and to continue to play + the Bohemian. Then the death of Morny seems to turn the idyl into a + tragedy, but only for a moment. Daudet’s delicate, nervous beauty made his + friend Zola think of an Arabian horse, but the poet had also the spirit of + such a high-bred steed. Years of conscientious literary labour followed, + cheered by marriage with a woman of genius capable of supplementing him in + his weakest points, and then the war with Prussia and its attendant + horrors gave him the larger and deeper view of life and the intensified + patriotism—in short, the final stimulus he needed. From the date of + his first great success—<i>Fromont, Jr., and Risler, Sr.</i>—glory + and wealth flowed in upon him, while envy scarcely touched him, so + unspoiled was he and so continuously and eminently lovable. One seemed to + see in his career a reflection of his luminous nature, a revised myth of + the golden touch, a new version of the fairy-tale of the fair mouth + dropping pearls. Then, as though grown weary of the idyllic romance she + was composing, Fortune donned the tragic robes of Nemesis. Years of pain + followed, which could not abate the spirits or disturb the geniality of + the sufferer, but did somewhat abate the power and disturb the serenity of + his work. Then came the inevitable end of all life dramas, whether comic + or romantic or tragic, and friends who had known him stood round his grave + and listened sadly to the touching words in which Emile Zola expressed not + merely his own grief but that of many thousands throughout the civilized + world. Here was a life more winsome, more appealing, more complete than + any creation of the genius of the man that lived it—a life which, + whether we know it in detail or not, explains in part the fascination + Daudet exerts upon us and the conviction we cherish that, whatever ravages + time may make among his books, the memory of their writer will not fade + from the hearts of men. Many Frenchmen have conquered the world’s mind by + the power or the subtlety of their genius; few have won its heart through + the catholicity, the broad sympathy of their genius. Daudet is one of + these few; indeed, he is almost if not quite the only European writer who + has of late achieved such a triumph, for Tolstoi has stern critics as well + as steadfast devotees, and has won most of his disciples as moralist and + reformer. But we must turn from Daudet the man to Daudet the author of <i>The + Nabob</i> and other memorable novels. + </p> + <p> + If this were a general essay and not an introduction, it would be proper + to say something of Daudet’s early attempts as poet and dramatist. Here it + need only be remarked that it is almost a commonplace to insist that even + in his later novels he never entirely ceased to see the outer world with + the eyes of a poet, to delight in colour and movement, to seize every + opportunity to indulge in vivid description couched in a style more swift + and brilliant than normal prose aspires to. This bent for description, + together with the tendency to episodic rather than sustained composition + and the comparative weakness of his character drawing—features of + his work shortly to be discussed—partly explains his failure, save + in one or two instances, to score a real triumph with his plays, but does + not explain his singular lack of sympathy with actors. Nor was he able to + win great success with his first book of importance, <i>Le Petit Chose</i>, + delightful as that mixture of autobiography and romance must prove to any + sympathetic reader. He was essentially a romanticist and a poet cast upon + an age of naturalism and prose, and he needed years of training and such + experience as the Prussian invasion gave him to adjust himself to his + life-work. Such adjustment was not needed for <i>Tartarin de Tarascon</i>, + begun shortly after <i>Le Petit Chose</i>, because subtle humour of the + kind lavished in that inimitable creation and in its sequels, while + implying observation, does not necessarily imply any marked departure from + the romantic and poetic points of view. + </p> + <p> + The training Daudet required for his novels he got from the sketches and + short stories that occupied him during the late sixties and early + seventies. Here again little in the way of comment need be given, and that + little can express the general verdict that the art displayed in these + miniature productions is not far short of perfect. The two principal + collections, <i>Lettres de mon Moulin</i> and <i>Contes du Lundi</i>, + together with <i>Artists’ Wives (Les Femmes d’Artistes)</i> and parts at + least of <i>Robert Helmont</i>, would almost of themselves suffice to put + Daudet high in the ranks of the writers who charm without leaving upon + one’s mind the slightest suspicion that they are weak. It is true that + Daudet’s stories do not attain the tremendous impressiveness that Balzac’s + occasionally do, as, for example, in <i>La Grande Breteche</i>, nor has + his clear-cut art the almost disconcerting firmness, the surgeon-like + quality of Maupassant’s; but the author of the ironical <i>Elixir of + Father Gaucher</i> and of the pathetic <i>Last Class</i>, to name no + others, could certainly claim with Musset that his glass was his own, and + had no reason to concede its smallness. + </p> + <p> + As we have seen, the production of <i>Fromont jeune et Risler aine</i> + marked the beginning of Daudet’s more than twenty years of successful + novel-writing. His first elaborate study of Parisian life, while it + indicated no advance of the art of fiction, deserved its popularity + because, in spite of the many criticisms to which it was open, it was a + thoroughly readable and often a moving book. One character, Delobelle, the + played-out actor who is still a hero to his pathetic wife and daughter, + was constructed on effective lines—was a personage worthy of + Dickens. The vile heroine, Sidonie, was bad enough to excite disgusted + interest, but, as Mr. Henry James pointed out later, she was not effective + to the extent her creator doubtless hoped. She paled beside Valerie + Marneffe, though, to be sure, Daudet knew better than to attempt to depict + any such queen of vice. Yet, after all, it is mainly the compelling power + of vile heroines that makes them tolerable, and neither Sidonie nor the + web of intrigue she wove can fairly be said to be characterized by + extraordinary strength. But the public was and is interested greatly by + the novel, and Daudet deserved the fame and money it brought him. His next + book, <i>Jack</i>, was not so popular. Still, it showed artistic + improvement, although, as in its predecessor, that bias towards the + sentimental, which was to be Daudet’s besetting weakness, was too plainly + visible. Its author took to his heart a book which the general reader + found too long and perhaps overpathetic. Some of us, while recognising its + faults, will share in part Daudet’s predilection for it—not so much + because of the strong and early study made of the artisan class, or of the + mordantly satirical exposure of D’Argenton and his literary “dead-beats” (<i>rates</i>), + or of any other of the special features of a story that is crowded with + them, as because the ill-fated hero, the product of genuine emotions on + Daudet’s part, excites cognate and equally genuine emotions in us. We + cannot watch the throbbing engines of a great steamship without seeing + Jack at work among them. But the fine, pathetic <i>Jack</i> brings us to + the finer, more pathetic <i>Nabob</i>. + </p> + <p> + Whether <i>The Nabob</i> is Daudet’s greatest novel is a question that may + be postponed, but it may be safely asserted that there are good reasons + why it should have been chosen to represent Daudet in the present series. + It has been immensely popular, and thus does not illustrate merely the + taste of an inner circle of its author’s admirers. It is not so subtle a + study of character as <i>Numa Roumestan</i>, nor is it a drama the scene + of which is set somewhat in a corner removed from the world’s scrutiny and + full comprehension, as is more or less the case with <i>Kings in Exile</i>. + It is comparatively unamenable to the moral, or, if one will, the + puritanical, objections so naturally brought against <i>Sapho</i>. It + obviously represents Daudet’s powers better than any novel written after + his health was permanently wrecked, and as obviously represents fiction + more adequately than either of the Tartarin masterpieces, which belong + rather to the literature of humour. Besides, it is probably the most + broadly effective of all Daudet’s novels; it is fuller of striking scenes; + and as a picture of life in the picturesque Second Empire it is of unique + importance. + </p> + <p> + Perhaps to many readers this last reason will seem the best of all. + However much we may moralize about its baseness and hollowness, whether + with the Hugo of <i>Les Chatiments</i> we scorn and vituperate its + charlatan head or pity him profoundly as we see him ill and helpless in + Zola’s <i>Debacle</i>, most of us, if we are candid, will confess that the + Second Empire, especially the Paris of Morny and Hausmann, of cynicism and + splendour, of frivolity and chicane, of servile obsequiousness and haughty + pretension, the France and the Paris that drew to themselves the eyes of + all Europe and particularly the eyes of the watchful Bismarck, have for us + a fascination almost as great as they had for the gay and audacious men + and women who in them courted fortune and chased pleasure from the morrow + of the <i>Coup d’Etat</i> to the eve of Sedan. A nearly equal fascination + is exerted upon us by a book which is the best sort of historical novel, + since it is the product of its author’s observation, not of his reading—a + story that sets vividly before us the political corruption, the financial + recklessness, the social turmoil, the public ostentation, the private + squalor, that led to the downfall of an empire and almost to that of a + people. + </p> + <p> + Daudet drew on his experiences, and on the notes he was always + accumulating, more strenuously than he should have done. He assures us + that he laboured over <i>The Nabob</i> for eight months, mainly in his + bed-room, sometimes working eighteen consecutive hours, often waking from + restless sleep with a sentence on his lips. Yet, such is the irony of + literary history, the novel is loosely enough put together to have been + written, one might suppose, in bursts of inspiration or else more or less + methodically—almost with the intention, as Mr. James has noted, of + including every striking phase of Parisian life. For it is a series of + brilliant, effective episodes and scenes, not a closely knit drama. + Jenkins’s visit to Monpavon at his toilet, the <i>dejeuner</i> at the + Nabob’s, the inspection of the OEuvre de Bethleem—which would have + delighted Dickens—the collapse of the fetes of the Bey, the Nabob’s + thrashing Moessard, the death of Mora, Felicia’s attempt to escape the + funeral of the duke, the interview between the Nabob and Hemerlingue, the + baiting in the Chamber, the suicide of that supreme man of tone, Monpavon, + the Nabob’s apoplectic seizure in the theatre—these and many other + scenes and episodes, together with descriptions and touches, stand out in + our memories more distinctly and impressively than the characters do—perhaps + more so than does the central motive, the outrageous exploitation of the + naive hero. For from the beginning of his career to the end Daudet’s eye, + like that of a genuine but not supereminent poet, was chiefly attracted by + colour, movement, effective pose—in other words, by the surfaces of + things. One may almost say that he was more of a landscape engineer than + of an architect and builder, although one must at once add that he could + and did erect solid structures. But the reader at least helps greatly to + lay the foundations, for, to drop the metaphor, Daudet relied largely on + suggestion, contenting himself with the belief that a capable imagination + could fill up the gaps he left in plot and character analysis. Thus, for + example, he indicated and suggested rather than detailed the way in which + Hemerlingue finally triumphed over the Nabob, Jansoulet. To use another + figure, he drew the spider, the fly, and a few strands of the web. The + Balzac whose bust looked satirically down upon the two adventurers in Pere + la Chaise would probably have given us the whole web. This is not quite to + say that Daudet is plausible, Balzac inevitable; but rather that we stroll + with the former master and follow submissively in the footsteps of the + latter. Yet a caveat is needed, for the intense interest we take in the + characters of a novel like <i>The Nabob</i> scarcely suggests strolling. + </p> + <p> + For although Daudet, in spite of his abounding sympathy, which is one + reason of his great attractiveness, cannot fairly be said to be a great + character creator, he had sufficient flexibility and force of genius to + set in action interesting personages. Part of the early success of <i>The + Nabob</i> was due to this fact, although the brilliant description of the + Second Empire and the introduction of exotic elements, the Tunisian and + Corsican episodes and characters, counted, probably, for not a little. + Readers insisted upon seeing in the book this person and that more or less + thinly disguised. The Irish adventurer-physician, Jenkins, was supposed to + be modelled upon a popular Dr. Olliffe; the arsenic pills were derived + from another source, as was also the goat’s-milk hospital for infants. + Felicia Ruys was thought by some to be Sarah Bernhardt, and originals were + easily provided for Monpavon and the other leading figures. But Daudet + confessed to only two important originals, and if one does not take an + author’s word in such matters one soon finds one’s self in a maze of + conjectures and contradictions. + </p> + <p> + The two characters drawn from life in a special sense—for Daudet, + like most other writers of fiction, had human life in general constantly + before him—are Jansoulet and Mora, precisely the most effective + personages in the book, and scarcely surpassed in the whole range of + Daudet’s fiction. The Nabob was Francois Bravay, who rose from poverty to + wealth by devious transactions in the Orient, and came to grief in Paris, + much as Jansoulet did. He survived the Empire, and his relatives are said + to have been incensed at the treatment given him in the novel, an attitude + on their part which is explicable but scarcely justifiable, since Daudet’s + sympathy for his hero could not well have been greater, and since the + adventurer had already attained a notoriety that was not likely to be + completely forgotten. Whether Daudet was as much at liberty to make free + with the character of his benefactor Morny is another matter. He himself + thought that he was, and he was a man of delicate sensitiveness. Probably + he was right in claiming that the natural son of Queen Hortense, the + intrepid soldier, the author of the <i>Coup d’Etat</i> that set his weaker + half-brother on the throne, the dandy, the libertine, the leader of + fashion, the cynical statesman—in short, the “Richelieu-Brummel” who + drew the eyes of all Europe upon himself, would not have been in the least + disconcerted could he have known that thirteen years after his death the + public would be discussing him as the prototype of the Mora of his young + <i>protege’s</i> masterpiece. In fact, it is easy to agree with those + critics who think that Daudet’s kindly nature caused him to soften many + features of Morny’s unlovely character. Mora does not, indeed, win our + love or our esteem, but we confess him to have been in every respect an + exceptional man, and there is not a page in which he appears that is not + intensely interesting. He must be an unimpressionable reader who soon + forgets the death-room scenes, the destruction of the compromising + letters, the spectacular funeral. + </p> + <p> + Of the other characters there is little space to speak here. Nearly all + have their good points, as might be expected of the creator of his two + fellow Provencals, Numa and Tartarin, the latter being probably the only + really cosmopolitan figure in recent literature; but some, like the + Hemerlingues, verge upon mere sketches; others, like Jansoulet’s obese + wife, upon caricatures. The old mother is excellently done, however, and + Monpavon, especially in his suicide, is nothing short of a triumph of art. + It is the more or less romantic or sentimental personages that give the + critic most qualms. Daudet seems to have introduced them—De Gery, + the Joyeuse family, and the rest—as a concession to popular taste, + and on this score was probably justified. A fair case may also be made out + for the use of idyllic scenes as a foil to the tragical, for the + Shakespearian critics have no monopoly of the overworked plea, + “justification by contrast.” Nor could a French analogue of Dickens easily + resist the temptation to give us a fatuous Passajon, an ebullient Pere + Joyeuse—who seems to have been partly modelled on a real person—an + exemplary “Bonne Maman,” a struggling but eventually triumphant Andre + Maranne. The home-lover Daudet also felt the necessity of showing that + Paris could set the Joyeuse household, sunny in its poverty, over against + the stately elegance of the Mora palace, the walls of which listened at + one and the same moment to the music of a ball and the death-rattle of its + haughty owner. But when all is said, it remains clear that <i>The Nabob</i> + is open to the charge that applies to all the greater novels save <i>Sapho</i>—the + charge that it exhibits a somewhat inharmonious mixture of sentimentalism + and naturalism. Against this charge, which perhaps applies most forcibly + to that otherwise almost perfect work of art, <i>Numa Roumestan</i>, + Daudet defended himself, but rather weakly. Nor does Mr. Henry James, who + in the case of the last-named novel comes to his help against Zola, much + mend matters. But the fault, if fault it be, is venial, especially in a + friend, though not strictly a coworker, of Zola’s. + </p> + <p> + Naturally an elaborate novel like <i>The Nabob</i> lends itself + indefinitely to minute comment, but we must be sparing of it. Still it is + worth while to call attention to the skill with which, from the opening + page, the interest of the reader is controlled; indeed, to the remarkable + art displayed in the whole first chapter devoted to the morning rounds of + Dr. Jenkins. The note of romantic extravagance is on the whole avoided + until the Nabob brings out his check-book, when the money flies with a + speed for which, one fancies, Daudet could have found little justification + this side of Timon of Athens. In the description of the <i>Caisse + Territoriale</i> given by Passajon this note is relieved by a delicate + irony, but seems still somewhat incongruous. One turns more willingly to + the description of Jansoulet’s sitting down to play <i>ecarte</i> with + Mora, to the story of how he gorged himself with the duke’s putative + mushrooms, and to similar episodes and touches. In the matter of effective + and ironically turned situations few novels can compare with this; indeed, + it almost seems as if Daudet made an inordinate use of them. Think of the + poor Nabob reading the announcement of the cross bestowed on Jenkins, and + of the absurd populace mistaking him for the ungrateful Bey! As for great + dramatic moments, there is at least one that no reader can forget—the + moment when Jansoulet, in the midst of the speech on which his fate + depends, catches sight of his old mother’s face and forbears to clear + himself of calumny at the expense of his wretched elder brother. The + situation may not bear close analysis, but who wishes to analyze? Or who, + indeed, wishes to indulge in further comment after the scene has risen to + his mind? + </p> + <p> + <i>The Nabob</i> was followed by <i>Kings in Exile</i>; then came <i>Numa + Roumestan</i> and <i>The Evangelist</i>; then, on the eve of Daudet’s + breakdown, <i>Sapho</i>; and the greatest of his humorous masterpieces, <i>Tartarin + in the Alps</i>. It is not yet certain what rank is to be given to these + books. Perhaps the adventures of the mountain-climbing hero of the Midi, + combined with his previous exploits as a slayer of lions—his + experiences as a colonist in <i>Port-Tarascon</i> need scarcely be + considered—will prove, in the lapse of years, to be the most solid + foundation of that fame which even envious Time will hardly begrudge + Daudet. As for <i>Kings in Exile</i>, it is difficult to see how even the + art with which the tragedy of Queen Frederique’s life is unfolded or the + growing power of characterization displayed in her, in the loyal Merault, + in the facile, decadent Christian, can make up for the lack of broadly + human appeal in the general subject-matter of a book which was so + sympathetically written as to appeal alike to Legitimists and to + Republicans. Good as <i>Kings in Exile</i> is, it is not so effective a + book as <i>The Nabob</i>, nor such a unique and marvellous work of art as + <i>Numa Roumestan</i>, due allowance being made for the intrusion of + sentimentality into the latter. Daudet thought <i>Numa</i> the “least + incomplete” of his works; it is certainly inclusive enough, since some + critics are struck by the tragic relations subsisting between the virtuous + discreet Northern wife and the peccable, expansive Southern husband, while + others see in the latter the hero of a comedy of manners almost worthy of + Moliere. If <i>Numa</i> represents the highest achievement of Daudet in + dramatic fiction or else in the art of characterization, <i>The Evangelist</i> + proved that his genius was not at home in those fields. Instead of marking + an ordered advance, this overwrought study of Protestant bigotry marked + not so much a halt, or a retreat, as a violent swerving to one side. Yet + in a way this swerving into the devious orbit of the novel of intense + purpose helped Daudet in his progress towards naturalism, and imparted + something of stability to his methods of work. <i>Sapho</i>, which + appeared next, was the first of his novels that left little to be desired + in the way of artistic unity and cumulative power. If such a study of the + <i>femme collante</i>, the mistress who cannot be shaken off—or + rather of the man whom she ruins, for it is Gaussin, not Sapho, that is + the main subject of Daudet’s acute analysis—was to be written at + all, it had to be written with a resolute art such as Daudet applied to + it. It is not then surprising that Continental critics rank <i>Sapho</i> + as its author’s greatest production; it is more in order to wonder what + Daudet might not have done in this line of work had his health remained + unimpaired. The later novels, in which he came near to joining forces with + the naturalists and hence to losing some of the vogue his eclecticism gave + him, need not detain us. + </p> + <p> + And now, in conclusion, how can we best characterize briefly this + fascinating, versatile genius, the most delightful humorist of his time, + one of the most artistic story-tellers, one of the greatest novelists? It + is impossible to classify him, for he was more than a humorist, he nearly + outgrew romance, he never accepted unreservedly the canons of naturalism. + He obviously does not belong to the small class of the supreme writers of + fiction, for he has no consistent or at least profound philosophy of life. + He is a true poet, yet for the main he has expressed himself not in verse, + but in prose, and in a form of prose that is being so extensively + cultivated that its permanence is daily brought more and more into + question. What is Daudet, and what will he be to posterity? Some admirers + have already answered the first question, perhaps as satisfactorily as it + can be answered, by saying, “Daudet is simply Daudet.” As for the second + question, a whole school of critics is inclined to answer it and all + similar queries with the curt statement, “That concerns posterity, not + us.” If, however, less evasive answers are insisted upon, let the + following utterance, which might conceivably be more indefinite and + oracular, suffice: Alphonse Daudet is one of those rare writers who + combine greatness with a charm so intimate and appealing that some of us + would not, if we could, have their greatness increased. + </p> + <p> + W. P. TRENT. <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE + </h2> + <p> + Alphonse Daudet was born at Nimes on the 13th of May, 1840. He was the + younger son of a rich and enthusiastically Royalist silk-manufacturer of + that town, the novelist, Ernest Daudet (born 1837), being his elder + brother. In their childhood, the father, Vincent Daudet, suffered + reverses, and had to settle with his family, in reduced circumstances, at + Lyons. Alphonse, in 1856, obtained a post as usher in a school at Alais, + in the Gard, where he was extremely unhappy. All these painful early + experiences are told very pathetically in “Le Petit Chose.” On the 1st of + November, 1857, Alphonse fled from the horrors of his life at Alais, and + joined his brother Ernest, who had just secured a post in the service of + the Duc de Morny in Paris. Alphonse determined to live by his pen, and + presently obtained introductions to the “Figaro.” His early volumes of + verse, “Les Amoureuses” of 1858 and “La Double Conversion” of 1861, + attracted some favourable notice. In this latter year his difficulties + ceased, for he had the good fortune to become one of the secretaries of + the Duc de Morny, a post which he held for four years, until the + popularity of his writings rendered him independent. To the generosity of + his patron, moreover, he owed the opportunity of visiting Italy and the + East. His first novel, “Le Chaperon Rouge,” 1863, was not very remarkable, + and Daudet turned to the stage. His principal dramatic efforts of this + period were “Le Dernier Idole,” 1862, and “L’OEillet Blanc,” 1865. + Alphonse Daudet’s earliest important work, however, was “Le Petit Chose,” + 1868, a very pathetic autobiography of the first eighteen years of his + life, over which he cast a thin veil of romance. After the death of the + Duc de Morny, Daudet retired to Provence, leasing a ruined mill at + Fortvielle, in the valley of the Rhone; from this romantic solitude, among + the pines and green oaks, he sent forth those exquisite studies of + Provencal life, the “Lettres de mon Moulin.” After the war, Daudet + reappeared in Paris, greatly strengthened and ripened by his + hermit-existence in the heart of Provence. He produced one masterpiece + after another. He had studied with laughter and joy the mirthful side of + southern exaggeration, and he created a figure in which its peculiar + qualities should be displayed, as it were, in excelsis. This study + resulted, in 1872, in “The Prodigious Feats of Tartarin of Tarascon,” one + of the most purely delightful works of humour in the French language. + Alphonse Daudet now, armed with his cahiers, his little green-backed books + of notes, set out to be a great historian of French manners in the second + half of the nineteenth century. His first important novel, “Fromont Jeune + et Risler Aine,” 1874, enjoyed a notable success; it was followed in 1876 + by “Jack,” in 1878 by “Le Nabob,” in 1879 by “Les Rois en Exil,” in 1881 + by “Numa Roumestan,” in 1883 by “L’Evangeliste,” and in 1884 by “Sapho.” + These are the seven great romances of modern French life on which the + reputation of Alphonse Daudet as a novelist is mainly built. They placed + him, for the moment at all events, near the head of contemporary European + literature. By this time, however, a physical malady, which Charcot was + the first to locate in the spinal cord, had begun to exhaust the + novelist’s powers. This disease, which took the form of what was supposed + to be neuralgia in 1881, racked him with pain during the sixteen remaining + years of his life, and gradually destroyed his powers of locomotion. It + spared the functions of the brain, but it cannot be denied that after 1884 + something of force and spontaneous charm was lacking in Daudet’s books. He + continued, however, the adventures of Tartarin, first with unabated gusto + in the Alps, then less happily as a colonist in the South Seas. He wrote, + in the form of a novel, a bitter satire on the French Academy, of which he + was never a member; this was “L’Immortel” of 1888. He wrote romances, of + little power, the best being “Rose et Ninette” of 1892, but his + imaginative work steadily declined in value. He published in 1887 his + reminiscences, “Trente Ans de Paris,” and later on his “Souvenirs d’un + Homme de Lettres.” He suffered more and more from his complaint, from the + insomnia it caused, and from the abuse of chloral. He was able, however, + to the last, to enjoy the summer at his country-house, at Champrosay, and + even to travel in an invalid’s chair; in 1896 he visited for the first + time London and Oxford, and saw Mr. George Meredith. In Paris he had long + occupied rooms in the Rue de Bellechasse, where Madame Alphonse Daudet was + accustomed to entertain a brilliant company. But in 1897 it became + impossible for him to mount five flights of stairs any longer, and he + moved to the first floor of No. 41 Rue de l’Universite. Here on the 16th + of December, 1897, as he was chatting gaily at the dinner-table, he + uttered a cry, fell back in his chair, and was dead. The personal + appearance of Alphonse Daudet, in his prime, was very striking; he had + clearly cut features, large brilliant eyes, and an amazing exuberance of + curled hair and forked beard. + </p> + <p> + EDMUND GOSSE, LL.D. <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h1> + THE NABOB + </h1> + <h2> + by Alphonse Daudet + </h2> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0004" id="link2H_4_0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + DOCTOR JENKIN’S PATIENTS + </h2> + <p> + Standing on the steps of his little town-house in the Rue de Lisbonne, + freshly shaven, with sparkling eyes, and lips parted in easy enjoyment, + his long hair slightly gray flowing over a huge coat collar, square + shouldered, strong as an oak, the famous Irish doctor, Robert Jenkins, + Knight of the Medjidjieh and of the distinguished order of Charles III of + Spain, President and Founder of the Bethlehem Society. Jenkins in a word, + the Jenkins of the Jenkins Pills with an arsenical base—that is to + say, the fashionable doctor of the year 1864, the busiest man in Paris, + was preparing to step into his carriage when a casement opened on the + first floor looking over the inner court-yard of the house, and a woman’s + voice asked timidly: + </p> + <p> + “Shall you be home for luncheon, Robert?” + </p> + <p> + Oh, how good and loyal was the smile that suddenly illumined the fine + apostle-like head with its air of learning, and in the tender + “good-morning” which his eyes threw up towards the warm, white + dressing-gown visible behind the raised curtains; how easy it was to + divine one of those conjugal passions, tranquil and sure, which habit + re-enforces and with supple and stable bonds binds closer. + </p> + <p> + “No, Mrs. Jenkins.” He was fond of thus bestowing upon her publicly her + title as his lawful wife, as if he found in it an intimate gratification, + a sort of acquittal of conscience towards the woman who made life so + bright for him. “No, do not expect me this morning. I lunch in the Place + Vendome.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! yes, the Nabob,” said the handsome Mrs. Jenkins with a very marked + note of respect for this personage out of the <i>Thousand and One Nights</i> + of whom all Paris had been talking for the last month; then, after a + little hesitation, very tenderly, in a quite low voice, from between the + heavy tapestries, she whispered for the ears of the doctor only: + </p> + <p> + “Be sure you do not forget what you promised me.” + </p> + <p> + Apparently it was something very difficult to fulfil, for at the reminder + of this promise the eyebrows of the apostle contracted into a frown, his + smile became petrified, his whole visage assumed an expression of + incredible hardness; but it was only for an instant. At the bedside of + their patients the physiognomies of these fashionable doctors become + expert in lying. In his most tender, most cordial manner, he replied, + disclosing a row of dazzling white teeth: + </p> + <p> + “What I promised shall be done, Mrs. Jenkins. And now, go in quickly and + shut your window. The fog is cold this morning.” + </p> + <p> + Yes, the fog was cold, but white as snow mist; and, filling the air + outside the glasses of the large brougham, it brightened with soft gleams + the unfolded newspaper in the doctor’s hands. Over yonder, in the populous + quarters, confined and gloomy, in the Paris of tradesman and mechanic, + that charming morning haze which lingers in the great thoroughfares is not + known. The bustle of awakening, the going and coming of the market-carts, + of the omnibuses, of the heavy trucks rattling their old iron, have early + and quickly cut it up, unravelled and scattered it. Every passer-by + carries away a little of it in a threadbare overcoat, a muffler which + shows the woof, and coarse gloves rubbed one against the other. It soaks + through the thin blouses, and the mackintoshes thrown over the working + skirts; it melts away at every breath that is drawn, warm from + sleeplessness or alcohol; it is engulfed in the depths of empty stomachs, + dispersed in the shops as they are opened, and the dark courts, or even to + the fireless attics. That is the reason why there remains so little of it + out of doors. But in that spacious and grandiose region of Paris, which + was inhabited by Jenkins’s clients, on those wide boulevards planted with + trees, and those deserted quays, the fog hovered without a stain, like so + many sheets, with waverings and cotton wool-like flakes. The effect was of + a place inclosed, secret, almost sumptuous, as the sun after his slothful + rising began to diffuse softly crimsoned tints, which gave to the mist + enshrouding the rows of houses to their summits the appearance of white + muslin thrown over some scarlet material. One might have fancied it a + great curtain beneath which nothing could be heard save the cautious + closing of some court-yard gate, the tin measuring-cans of the milkmen, + the little bells of a herd of she-asses passing at a quick trot followed + by the short and panting breath of their shepherd, and the dull rumble of + Jenkins’s brougham commencing its daily round. + </p> + <p> + First, to Mora House. This was a magnificent palace on the Quai d’Orsay, + next door to the Spanish embassy, whose long terraces succeeded its own, + having its principal entrance in the Rue de Lille, and a door upon the + side next the river. Between two lofty walls overgrown with ivy, and + united by imposing vaulted arches, the brougham shot in, announced by two + strokes of a sonorous bell which roused Jenkins from the reverie into + which the reading of his newspaper seemed to have plunged him. Then the + noise of the wheels became deadened on the sand of a vast court-yard, and + they drew up, after describing an elegant curve, before the steps of the + mansion, which were surrounded by a large circular awning. In the + obscurity of the fog, a dozen carriages could be seen ranged in line, and + along an avenue of acacias, quite withered at that season and leafless in + their bark, the profiles of English grooms leading out the saddle-horses + of the duke for their exercise. Everything revealed a luxury thought-out, + settled, grandiose, and assured. + </p> + <p> + “It is quite useless for me to come early; others always arrive before + me,” said Jenkins to himself as he saw the file in which his brougham took + its place; but, certain of not having to wait, with head carried high, and + an air of tranquil authority, he ascended that official flight of steps + which is mounted every day by so many trembling ambitions, so many + anxieties on hesitating feet. + </p> + <p> + From the very antechamber, lofty and resonant like a church, which, + although calorifers burned night and day, possessed two great wood-fires + that filled it with a radiant life, the luxury of this interior reached + you by warm and heady puffs. It suggested at once a hot-house and a + Turkish bath. A great deal of heat and yet brightness; white wainscoting, + white marbles, immense windows, nothing stifling or shut in, and yet a + uniform atmosphere meet for the surrounding of some rare existence, + refined and nervous. Jenkins always expanded in this factitious sun of + wealth; he greeted with a “good-morning, my lads,” the powdered porter, + with his wide golden scarf, the footmen in knee-breeches and livery of + gold and blue, all standing to do him honour; lightly drew his finger + across the bars of the large cages of monkeys full of sharp cries and + capers, and, whistling under his breath, stepped quickly up the staircase + of shining marble laid with a carpet as thick as the turf of a lawn, which + led to the apartments of the duke. Although six months had passed since + his first visit to Mora House, the good doctor was not yet become + insensible to the quite physical impression of gaiety, of frivolity, which + he received from this dwelling. + </p> + <p> + Although you were in the abode of the first official of the Empire there + was nothing here suggestive of the work of government or its boxes of + dusty old papers. The duke had only consented to accept his high + dignitaries as Minister of State and President of the Council upon the + condition that he should not quit his private mansion; he only went to his + office for an hour or two daily, the time necessary to give the + indispensable signatures, and held his receptions in his bed-chamber. At + this moment, notwithstanding the earliness of the hour, the hall was + crowded. You saw there grave, anxious faces, provincial prefects with + shaven lips, and administrative whiskers, slightly less arrogant in this + antechamber than yonder in their prefectures, magistrates of austere air, + sober in gesture, deputies important of manner, big-wigs of the financial + world, rich and boorish manufacturers, among whom stood out here and there + the slender, ambitious figure of some substitute of a prefectorial + councillor, in the garb of one seeking a favour, dress-coat and white tie; + and all, standing, sitting in groups or solitary, sought silently to + penetrate with their gaze that high door closed upon their destiny, by + which they would issue forth directly triumphant or with cast-down head. + Jenkins passed through the crowd rapidly, and every one followed with an + envious eye this newcomer whom the doorkeeper, with his official chain, + correct and icy in his demeanour, seated at a table beside the door, + greeted with a little smile at once respectful and familiar. + </p> + <p> + “Who is with him?” asked the doctor, indicating the chamber of the duke. + </p> + <p> + Hardly moving his lips, and not without a slightly ironical glance of the + eye, the doorkeeper whispered a name which, if they had heard it, would + have roused the indignation of all these high personages who had been + waiting for an hour past until the costumier of the opera should have + ended his audience. + </p> + <p> + A sound of voices, a ray of light. Jenkins had just entered the duke’s + presence; he never waited, he. + </p> + <p> + Standing with his back to the fireplace, closely wrapped in a + dressing-jacket of blue fur, the soft reflections from which gave an air + of refinement to an energetic and haughty head, the President of the + Council was causing to be designed under his eyes a Pierrette costume for + the duchess to wear at her next ball, and was giving his directions with + the same gravity with which he would have dictated the draft of a new law. + </p> + <p> + “Let the frill be very fine on the ruff, and put no frills on the sleeves.—Good-morning, + Jenkins. I am with you directly.” + </p> + <p> + Jenkins bowed, and took a few steps in the immense room, of which the + windows, opening on a garden that extended as far as the Seine, framed one + of the finest views of Paris, the bridges, the Tuileries, the Louvre, in a + network of black trees traced as it were in Indian ink upon the floating + background of fog. A large and very low bed, raised by a few steps above + the floor, two or three little lacquer screens with vague and capricious + gilding, indicating, like the double doors and the carpets of thick wool, + a fear of cold pushed even to excess, various seats, lounges, warmers, + scattered about rather indiscriminately, all low, rounded, indolent, or + voluptuous in shape, composed the furniture of this celebrated chamber in + which the gravest questions and the most frivolous were wont to be treated + alike with the same seriousness. On the wall was a handsome portrait of + the duchess; on the chimneypiece a bust of the duke, the work of Felicia + Ruys, which at the recent Salon had received the honours of a first medal. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Jenkins, how are we this morning?” said his excellency, + approaching, while the costumier was picking up his fashion-plates, + scattered over all the easy chairs. + </p> + <p> + “And you, my dear duke? I thought you a little pale last evening at the + Varietes.” + </p> + <p> + “Come, come! I have never felt so well. Your pills have a most marvellous + effect upon me. I am conscious of a vivacity, a freshness, when I remember + how run down I was six months ago.” + </p> + <p> + Jenkins, without saying anything, had laid his great head against the + fur-coat of the minister of state, at the place where, in common men, the + heart beats. He listened a moment while his excellency continued to speak + in the indolent, bored tone which was one of the characteristics of his + distinction. + </p> + <p> + “And who was your companion, doctor, last night? That huge, bronzed Tartar + who was laughing so loudly in the front of your box.” + </p> + <p> + “It was the Nabob, <i>Monsieur le Duc</i>. The famous Jansoulet, about + whom people are talking so much just now.” + </p> + <p> + “I ought to have guessed it. The whole house was watching him. The + actresses played for him alone. You know him? What sort of man is he?” + </p> + <p> + “I know him. That is to say, I attend him professionally.—Thank you, + my dear duke, I have finished. All is right in that region.—When he + arrived in Paris a month ago, he had found the change of climate somewhat + trying. He sent for me, and since then has received me upon the most + friendly footing. What I know of him is that he possesses a colossal + fortune, made in Tunis, in the service of the Bey, that he has a loyal + heart, a generous soul, in which the ideas of humanity—” + </p> + <p> + “In Tunis?” interrupted the duke, who was by nature very little + sentimental and humanitarian. “In that case, why this name of Nabob?” + </p> + <p> + “Bah! the Parisians do not look at things so closely. For them, every rich + foreigner is a nabob, no matter whence he comes. Furthermore, this nabob + has all the physical qualities for the part—a copper-coloured skin, + eyes like burning coals, and, what is more, gigantic wealth, of which he + makes, I do not fear to say it, the most noble and the most intelligent + use. It is to him that I owe”—here the doctor assumed a modest air—“that + I owe it that I have at last been able to found the Bethlehem Society for + the suckling of infants, which a morning paper, that I was looking over + just now—the <i>Messenger</i>, I think—calls ‘the great + philanthropic idea of the century.’” + </p> + <p> + The duke threw a listless glance over the sheet which Jenkins held out to + him. He was not the man to be caught by the turn of an advertisement. + </p> + <p> + “He must be very rich, this M. Jansoulet,” said he, coldly. “He finances + Cardailhac’s theatre; Monpavon gets him to pay his debts; Bois l’Hery + starts a stable for him; old Schwalbach a picture gallery. It means money, + all that.” + </p> + <p> + Jenkins laughed. + </p> + <p> + “What will you have, my dear duke, this poor Nabob, you are his great + occupation. Arriving here with the firm resolution to become a Parisian, a + man of the world, he has taken you for his model in everything, and I do + not conceal from you that he would very much like to study his model from + a nearer standpoint.” + </p> + <p> + “I know, I know. Monpavon has already asked my permission to bring him to + see me. But I prefer to wait; I wish to see. With these great fortunes + that come from so far away one has to be careful. <i>Mon Dieu</i>! I do + not say that if I should meet him elsewhere than in my own house, at the + theatre, in a drawing-room——” + </p> + <p> + “As it just happens, Mrs. Jenkins is proposing to give a small party next + month. If you would do us the honour——” + </p> + <p> + “I shall be glad to come, my dear doctor, and if your Nabob should chance + to be there I should make no objection to his being presented to me.” + </p> + <p> + At this moment the usher on duty opened the door. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur the Minister of the Interior is in the blue salon. He has only + one word to say to his excellency. Monsieur the Prefect of Police is still + waiting downstairs, in the gallery.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well,” said the duke, “I am coming. But I should like first to + finish the matter of this costume. Let us see—friend, what’s your + name—what are we deciding upon for these ruffs? Au revoir, doctor. + There is nothing to be done, is there, except to continue the pills?” + </p> + <p> + “Continue the pills,” said Jenkins, bowing; and he left the room beaming + with delight at the two pieces of good fortune which were befalling him at + the same time—the honour of entertaining the duke and the pleasure + of obliging his dear Nabob. In the antechamber, the crowd of petitioners + through which he passed was still more numerous than at his entry; + newcomers had joined those who had been patiently waiting from the first, + others were mounting the staircase, with busy look and very pale, and in + the courtyard the carriages continued to arrive, and to range themselves + on ranks in a circle, gravely, solemnly, while the question of the sleeve + ruffs was being discussed upstairs with not less solemnity. + </p> + <p> + “To the club,” said Jenkins to his coachman. + </p> + <p> + The brougham bowled along the quays, recrossed the bridges, reached the + Place de la Concorde, which already no longer wore the same aspect as an + hour earlier. The fog was lifting in the direction of the Garde-Meuble and + the Greek temple of the Madeleine, allowing to be dimly distinguished here + and there the white plume of a jet of water, the arcade of a palace, the + upper portion of a statue, the tree-clumps of the Tuileries, grouped in + chilly fashion near the gates. The veil, not raised, but broken in places, + disclosed fragments of horizon; and on the avenue which leads to the Arc + de Triomphe could be seen brakes passing at full trot laden with coachmen + and jobmasters, dragoons of the Empress, fuglemen bedizened with lace and + covered with furs, going two by two in long files with a jangling of bits + and spurs, and the snorting of fresh horses, the whole lighted by a sun + still invisible, the light issuing from the misty atmosphere, and here and + there withdrawing into it again as if offering a fleeting vision of the + morning luxury of that quarter of the town. + </p> + <p> + Jenkins alighted at the corner of the Rue Royale. From top to bottom of + the great gambling house the servants were passing to and fro, shaking the + carpets, airing the rooms where the fume of cigars still hung about and + heaps of fine glowing ashes were crumbling away at the back of the + hearths, while on the green tables, still vibrant with the night’s play, + there stood burning a few silver candlesticks whose flames rose straight + in the wan light of day. The noise, the coming and going, ceased at the + third floor, where sundry members of the club had their apartments. Among + them was the Marquis de Monpavon, whose abode Jenkins was now on his way + to visit. + </p> + <p> + “What! It is you, doctor? The devil take it! What is the time then? I’m + not visible.” + </p> + <p> + “Not even for the doctor?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, for nobody. Question of etiquette, <i>mon cher</i>. No matter, come + in all the same. You’ll warm your feet for a moment while Francis finishes + doing my hair.” + </p> + <p> + Jenkins entered the bed-chamber, a banal place like all furnished + apartments, and moved towards the fire on which there were set to heat + curling-tongs of all sizes, while in the contiguous laboratory, separated + from the room by a curtain of Algerian tapestry, the Marquis de Monpavon + gave himself up to the manipulations of his valet. Odours of patchouli, of + cold-cream, of hartshorn, and of singed hair escaped from the part of the + room which was shut off, and from time to time, when Francis came to fetch + a curling-iron, Jenkins caught sight of a huge dressing-table laden with a + thousand little instruments of ivory, and mother-of-pearl, with steel + files, scissors, puffs, and brushes, with bottles, with little trays, with + cosmetics, labelled and arranged methodically in groups and lines; and + amid all this display, awkward and already shaky, an old man’s hand, + shrunken and long, delicately trimmed and polished about the nails like + that of a Japanese painter, which faltered about among this fine hardware + and doll’s china. + </p> + <p> + While continuing the process of making up his face, the longest, the most + complicated of his morning occupations, Monpavon chatted with the doctor, + told of his little ailments, and the good effect of the <i>pills</i>. They + made him young again, he said. And at a distance, thus, without seeing + him, one would have taken him for the Duc de Mora, to such a degree had he + usurped his manner of speech. There were the same unfinished phrases, + ended by “ps, ps, ps,” muttered between the teeth, expressions like + “What’s its name?” “Who was it?” constantly thrown into what he was + saying, a kind of aristocratic stutter, fatigued, listless, wherein you + might perceive a profound contempt for the vulgar art of speech. In the + society of which the duke was the centre, every one sought to imitate that + accent, those disdainful intonations with an affectation of simplicity. + </p> + <p> + Jenkins, finding the sitting rather long, had risen to take his departure. + </p> + <p> + “Adieu, I must be off. We shall see you at the Nabob’s?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I intend to be there for luncheon. Promised to bring him—what’s + his name. Who was it? What? You know, for our big affair—ps, ps, ps. + Were it not for that, should gladly stay away. Real menagerie, that + house.” + </p> + <p> + The Irishman, despite his benevolence, agreed that the society was rather + mixed at his friend’s. But then! One could hardly blame him for it. The + poor fellow, he knew no better. + </p> + <p> + “Neither knows nor is willing to learn,” remarked Monpavon with + bitterness. “Instead of consulting people of experience—ps, ps, ps—first + sponger that comes along. Have you seen the horses that Bois l’Hery has + persuaded him to buy? Absolute rubbish those animals. And he paid twenty + thousand francs for them. We may wager that Bois l’Hery got them for six + thousand.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, for shame—a nobleman!” said Jenkins, with the indignation of a + lofty soul refusing to believe in baseness. + </p> + <p> + Monpavon continued, without seeming to hear: + </p> + <p> + “All that because the horses came from Mora’s stable.” + </p> + <p> + “It is true that the dear Nabob’s heart is very full of the duke. I am + about to make him very happy, therefore, when I inform him——” + </p> + <p> + The doctor paused, embarrassed. + </p> + <p> + “When you inform him of what, Jenkins?” + </p> + <p> + Somewhat abashed, Jenkins had to confess that he had obtained permission + from his excellency to present to him his friend Jansoulet. Scarcely had + he finished his sentence before a tall spectre, with flabby face and hair + and whiskers diversely coloured, bounded from the dressing-room into the + chamber, with his two hands folding round a fleshless but very erect neck + a dressing-gown of flimsy silk with violet spots, in which he was wrapped + like a sweetmeat in its paper. The most striking thing about this + mock-heroic physiognomy was a large curved nose all shiny with cold cream, + and an eye alive, keen, too young, too bright, for the heavy and wrinkled + eyelid which covered it. Jenkins’s patients all had that eye. + </p> + <p> + Monpavon must indeed have been deeply moved to show himself thus devoid of + all prestige. In point of fact, with white lips and a changed voice he + addressed the doctor quickly, without the lisp this time, and in a single + outburst: + </p> + <p> + “Come now, <i>mon cher</i>, no tomfoolery between us, eh? We are both met + before the same dish, but I leave you your share. I intend that you shall + leave me mine.” + </p> + <p> + And Jenkins’s air of astonishment did not make him pause. “Let this be + said once for all. I have promised the Nabob to present him to the duke, + just as, formerly, I presented you. Do not mix yourself up, therefore, + with what concerns me alone.” + </p> + <p> + Jenkins laid his hand on his heart, protested his innocence. He had never + had any intention. Certainly Monpavon was too intimate a friend of the + duke, for any other—How could he have supposed? + </p> + <p> + “I suppose nothing,” said the old nobleman, calmer but still cold. “I + merely desired to have a very clear explanation with you on this subject.” + </p> + <p> + The Irishman extended a widely opened hand. + </p> + <p> + “My dear marquis, explanations are always clear between men of honour.” + </p> + <p> + “Honour is a big word, Jenkins. Let us say people of deportment—that + suffices.” + </p> + <p> + And that deportment, which he invoked as the supreme guide of conduct, + recalling him suddenly to the sense of his ludicrous situation, the + marquis offered one finger to his friend’s demonstrative shake of the + hand, and passed back with dignity behind his curtain, while the other + left, in haste to resume his round. + </p> + <p> + What a magnificent clientele he had, this Jenkins! Nothing but princely + mansions, heated staircases, laden with flowers at every landing, + upholstered and silky alcoves, where disease was transformed into + something discreet, elegant, where nothing suggested that brutal hand + which throws on a bed of pain those who only cease to work in order to + die. They were not in any true speech, sick people, these clients of the + Irish doctor. They would have been refused admission to a hospital. Their + organs not possessing even strength to give them a shock, the seat of + their malady was to be discovered nowhere, and the doctor, as he bent over + them, might have sought in vain the throb of any suffering in those bodies + which the inertia, the silence of death already inhabited. They were + worn-out, debilitated people, anaemics, exhausted by an absurd life, but + who found it so good still that they fought to have it prolonged. And the + Jenkins pills became famous precisely by reason of that lash of the whip + which they gave to jaded existences. + </p> + <p> + “Doctor, I beseech you, let me be fit to go to the ball this evening!” the + young woman would say, prostrate on her lounge, and whose voice was + reduced to a breath. + </p> + <p> + “You shall go, my dear child.” + </p> + <p> + And she went; and never had she looked more beautiful. + </p> + <p> + “Doctor, at all costs, though it should kill me, to-morrow morning I must + be at the Cabinet Council.” + </p> + <p> + He was there, and carried away from it in a triumph of eloquence and of + ambitious diplomacy. + </p> + <p> + Afterward—oh, afterward, if you please! But no matter! To their last + day Jenkins’s clients went about, showed themselves, cheated the devouring + egotism of the crowd. They died on their feet, as became men and women of + the world. + </p> + <p> + After a thousand peregrinations in the Chaussee d’Antin and the + Champs-Elysees, after having visited every millionaire or titled personage + in the Faubourg Saint Honore, the fashionable doctor arrived at the corner + of the Cours-la-Reine and the Rue Francois I., before a house with a + rounded front, which occupied the angle on the quay, and entered an + apartment on the ground floor which resembled in nowise those through + which he had been passing since morning. From the threshold, tapestries + covering the wall, windows of old stained glass with strips of lead + cutting across a discrete and composite light, a gigantic saint in carved + wood which fronted a Japanese monster with protruding eyes and a back + covered with delicate scales like tiles, indicated the imaginative and + curious taste of an artist. The little page who answered the door held in + leash an Arab greyhound larger than himself. + </p> + <p> + “Mme. Constance is at mass,” he said, “and Mademoiselle is in the studio + quite alone. We have been at work since six o’clock this morning,” added + the child with a rueful yawn which the dog caught on the wing, making him + open wide his pink mouth with its sharp teeth. + </p> + <p> + Jenkins, whom we have seen enter with so much self-possession the chamber + of the Minister of State, trembled a little as he raised the curtain + masking the door of the studio which had been left open. It was a splendid + sculptor’s studio, the front of which, on the street corner, semi-circular + in shape, gave the room one whole wall of glass, with pilasters at the + sides, a large, well-lighted bay, opal-coloured just then by reason of the + fog. More ornate than are usually such work-rooms, which the stains of the + plaster, the boasting-tools, the clay, the puddles of water generally + cause to resemble a stone-mason’s shed, this one added a touch of coquetry + to its artistic purpose. Green plants in every corner, a few good pictures + suspended against the bare wall and, here and there, resting upon oak + brackets, two or three works of Sebastien Ruys, of which the last, + exhibited after his death, was covered with a piece of black gauze. + </p> + <p> + The mistress of the house, Felicia Ruys, the daughter of the famous + sculptor and herself already known by two masterpieces, the bust of her + father and that of the Duc de Mora, was standing in the middle of the + studio, occupied in the modelling of a figure. Wearing a tightly fitting + riding-habit of blue cloth with long folds, a fichu of China silk twisted + about her neck like a man’s tie, her black, fine hair caught up carelessly + above the antique modelling of her small head, Felicia was at work with an + extreme earnestness which added to her beauty the concentration, the + intensity which are given to the features by an attentive and satisfied + expression. But that changed immediately upon the arrival of the doctor. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, it is you,” said she brusquely, as though awaked from a dream. “The + bell was rung, then? I did not hear it.” + </p> + <p> + And in the ennui, the lassitude that suddenly took possession of that + adorable face, the only thing that remained expressive and brilliant was + the eyes, eyes in which the factitious gleam of the Jenkins pills was + heightened by the constitutional wildness. + </p> + <p> + Oh, how the doctor’s voice became humble and condescending as he answered + her: + </p> + <p> + “So you are quite absorbed in your work, my dear Felicia. Is it something + new that you are at work on there? It seems to me very pretty.” + </p> + <p> + He moved towards the rough and still formless model out of which there was + beginning to issue vaguely a group of two animals, one a greyhound which + was scampering at full speed with a rush that was truly extraordinary. + </p> + <p> + “The idea of it came to me last night. I began to work it out by + lamplight. My poor Kadour, he sees no fun in it,” said the girl, glancing + with a look of caressing kindness at the greyhound whose paws the little + page was endeavouring to place apart in order to get the pose again. + </p> + <p> + Jenkins remarked in a fatherly way that she did wrong to tire herself + thus, and taking her wrist with ecclesiastical precautions: + </p> + <p> + “Come, I am sure you are feverish.” + </p> + <p> + At the contact of his hand with her own, Felicia made a movement almost of + repulsion. + </p> + <p> + “No, no, leave me alone. Your pills can do nothing for me. When I do not + work I am bored. I am bored to death, to extinction; my thoughts are the + colour of that water which flows over yonder, brackish and heavy. To be + commencing life, and to be disgusted with it! It is hard. I am reduced to + the point of envying my poor Constance, who passes her days in her chair, + without opening her mouth, but smiling to herself over her memories of the + past. I have not even that, I, happy remembrances to muse upon. I have + only work—work!” + </p> + <p> + As she talked she went on modelling furiously, now with the boasting-tool, + now with her fingers, which she wiped from time to time on a little sponge + placed on the wooden platform which supported the group; so that her + complaints, her melancholies, inexplicable in the mouth of a girl of + twenty which, in repose, had the purity of a Greek smile, seemed uttered + at random and addressed to no one in particular. + </p> + <p> + Jenkins, however, appeared disturbed by them, troubled, despite the + evident attention which he gave to the work of the artist, or rather to + the artist herself, to the triumphant grace of this girl whom her beauty + seemed to have predestined to the study of the plastic arts. + </p> + <p> + Embarrassed by the admiring gaze which she felt fixed upon her, Felicia + resumed: + </p> + <p> + “Apropos, I have seen him, you know, your Nabob. Some one pointed him out + to me last Friday at the opera.” + </p> + <p> + “You were at the opera on Friday?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. The duke had sent me his box.” + </p> + <p> + Jenkins changed colour. + </p> + <p> + “I persuaded Constance to go with me. It was the first time for + twenty-five years since her farewell performance, that she had been inside + the Opera-House. It made a great impression on her. During the ballet, + especially, she trembled, she beamed, all her old triumphs sparkled in her + eyes. Happy who has emotions like that. A real type, that Nabob. You will + have to bring him to see me. He has a head that it would amuse me to do.” + </p> + <p> + “He! Why, he is hideous! You cannot have looked at him carefully.” + </p> + <p> + “On the contrary, I had a perfect view. He was opposite us. That mask, as + of a white Ethiopian, would be superb in marble. And not vulgar, in any + case. Besides, since he is so ugly as that, you will not be so unhappy as + you were last year when I was doing Mora’s bust. What a disagreeable face + you had, Jenkins, in those days!” + </p> + <p> + “For ten years of life,” muttered Jenkins in a gloomy voice, “I would not + have that time over again. But you it amuses to behold suffering.” + </p> + <p> + “You know quite well that nothing amuses me,” said she, shrugging her + shoulders with a supreme impertinence. + </p> + <p> + Then, without looking at him, without adding another word, she plunged + into one of those dumb activities by which true artists escape from + themselves and from everything that surrounds them. + </p> + <p> + Jenkins paced a few steps in the studio, much moved, with avowals on the + tip of his tongue which yet dared not put themselves into words. At + length, feeling himself dismissed, he took his hat and walked towards the + door. + </p> + <p> + “So it is understood. I must bring him to see you.” + </p> + <p> + “Who?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, the Nabob. It was you who this very moment——” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, yes,” remarked the strange person whose caprices were short-lived. + “Bring him if you like. I don’t care, otherwise.” + </p> + <p> + And her beautiful dejected voice, in which something seemed broken, the + listlessness of her whole personality, said distinctly enough that it was + true, that she cared really for nothing in the world. + </p> + <p> + Jenkins left the room, extremely troubled, and with a gloomy brow. But, + the moment he was outside, he assumed once more his laughing and cordial + expression, being of those who, in the streets, go masked. The morning was + advancing. The mist, still perceptible in the vicinity of the Seine, + floated now only in shreds and gave a vaporous unsubstantiality to the + houses on the quay, to the river steamers whose paddles remained + invisible, to the distant horizon in which the dome of the Invalides hung + poised like a gilded balloon with a rope that darted sunbeams. A diffused + warmth, the movement in the streets, told that noon was not far distant, + that it would be there directly with the striking of all the bells. + </p> + <p> + Before going on to the Nabob’s, Jenkins had, however, one other visit to + make. But he appeared to find it a great nuisance. However, since he had + made the promise! And, resolutely: + </p> + <p> + “68 Rue Saint-Ferdinand, at the Ternes,” he said, as he sprang into his + carriage. + </p> + <p> + The address required to be repeated twice to the coachman, Joey, who was + scandalized; the very horse showed a momentary hesitation, as if the + valuable beast and the impeccably clad servant had felt revolt at the idea + of driving out to such a distant suburb, beyond the limited but so + brilliant circle wherein their master’s clients were scattered. The + carriage arrived, all the same, without accident, at the end of a + provincial-looking, unfinished street, and at the last of its buildings, a + house of unfurnished apartments with five stories, which the street seemed + to have despatched forward as a reconnoitring party to discover whether it + might continue on that side isolated as it stood between vaguely + marked-out sites waiting to be built upon or heaped with the debris of + houses broken down, with blocks of freestone, old shutters lying amid the + desolation, mouldy butchers’ blocks with broken hinges hanging, an immense + ossuary of a whole demolished region of the town. + </p> + <p> + Innumerable placards were stuck above the door, the latter being decorated + by a great frame of photographs white with dust before which Jenkins + paused for a moment as he passed. Had the famous doctor come so far, then, + simply for the purpose of having a photograph taken? It might have been + thought so, judging by the attention with which he stayed to examine this + display, the fifteen or twenty photographs which represented the same + family in different poses and actions and with varying expressions; an old + gentleman, with chin supported by a high white neckcloth, and a leathern + portfolio under his arm, surrounded by a bevy of young girls with their + hair in plait or in curls, and with modest ornaments on their black + frocks. Sometimes the old gentleman had posed with but two of his + daughters; or perhaps one of those young and pretty profile figures stood + out alone, the elbow resting upon a broken column, the head bowed over a + book in a natural and easy pose. But, in short, it was always the same air + with variations, and within the glass frame there was no gentleman save + the old gentleman with the white neckcloth, nor other feminine figures + that those of his numerous daughters. + </p> + <p> + “Studios upstairs, on the fifth floor,” said a line above the frame. + Jenkins sighed, measured with his eye the distance that separated the + ground from the little balcony up there in the clouds, then he decided to + enter. In the corridor he passed a white neckcloth and a majestic leathern + portfolio, evidently the old gentleman of the photographic exhibition. + Questioned, this individual replied that M. Maranne did indeed live on the + fifth floor. “But,” he added, with an engaging smile, “the stories are not + lofty.” Upon this encouragement the Irishman began to ascend a narrow and + quite new staircase with landings no larger than a step, only one door on + each floor, and badly lighted windows through which could be seen a + gloomy, ill-paved court-yard and other cage-like staircases, all empty; + one of those frightful modern houses, built by the dozen by penniless + speculators, and having as their worst disadvantage thin partition walls + which oblige all the inhabitants to live in a phalansterian community. + </p> + <p> + At this particular time the inconvenience was not great, the fourth and + fifth floors alone happening to be occupied, as though the tenants had + dropped into them from the sky. + </p> + <p> + On the fourth floor, behind a door with a copper plate bearing the + announcement “M. Joyeuse, Expert in Bookkeeping,” the doctor heard a sound + of fresh laughter, of young people’s chatter, and of romping steps, which + accompanied him to the floor above, to the photographic establishment. + </p> + <p> + These little businesses perched away in corners with the air of having no + communication with any outside world are one of the surprises of Paris. + One asks one’s self how the people live who go into these trades, what + fastidious Providence can, for example, send clients to a photographer + lodged on a fifth floor in a nondescript region, well beyond the Rue + Saint-Ferdinand, or books to keep to the accountant below. Jenkins, as he + made this reflection, smiled in pity, then went straight in as he was + invited by the following inscription, “Enter without knocking.” Alas! the + permission was scarcely abused. A tall young man wearing spectacles, and + writing at a small table, with his legs wrapped in a travelling-rug, rose + precipitately to greet the visitor whom his short sight had prevented him + from recognising. + </p> + <p> + “Good-morning, Andre,” said the doctor, stretching out his loyal hand. + </p> + <p> + “M. Jenkins!” + </p> + <p> + “You see, I am good-natured as I have always been. Your conduct towards + us, your obstinacy in persisting in living far away from your parents, + imposed a great reserve on me, for my own dignity’s sake; but your mother + has wept. And here I am.” + </p> + <p> + While he spoke, he examined the poor little studio, with its bare walls, + its scanty furniture, the brand-new photographic apparatus, the little + Prussian fireplace, new also and never yet used for a fire, all forced + into painfully clear evidence beneath the direct light falling from the + glass roof. The drawn face, the scanty beard of the young man, to whom the + bright colour of his eyes, the narrow height of his forehead, his long and + fair hair thrown backward gave the air of a visionary, everything was + accentuated in the crude light; and also the resolute will in that clear + glance which settled upon Jenkins coldly, and in advance to all his + reasonings, to all his protestations, opposed an invincible resistance. + </p> + <p> + But the good Jenkins feigned not to perceive anything of this. + </p> + <p> + “You know, my dear Andre, since the day when I married your mother I have + regarded you as my son. I looked forward to leaving you my practice and my + patients, to putting your foot in a golden stirrup, happy to see you + following a career consecrated to the welfare of humanity. All at once, + without giving any reason, without taking into any consideration the + effect which such a rupture might well have in the eyes of the world, you + have separated yourself from us, you have abandoned your studies, + renounced your future, in order to launch out into I know not what + eccentric life, engaging in a ridiculous trade, the refuge and the excuse + of all unclassed people.” + </p> + <p> + “I follow this occupation in order to earn a living. It is bread and + butter in the meantime.” + </p> + <p> + “In what meantime? While you are waiting for literary glory?” + </p> + <p> + He glanced disdainfully at the scribbling scattered over the table. + </p> + <p> + “All that is not serious, you know, and here is what I am come to tell + you. An opportunity presents itself to you, a double-swing door opening + into the future. The Bethlehem Society is founded. The most splendid of my + philanthropic dreams has taken body. We have just purchased a superb villa + at Nanterre for the housing of our first establishment. It is the care, + the management of this house that I have thought of intrusting to you as + to an <i>alter ego</i>. A princely dwelling, the salary of the commander + of a division, and the satisfaction of a service rendered to the great + human family. Say one word, and I take you to see the Nabob, the + great-hearted man who defrays the expense of our undertaking. Do you + accept?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said the other so curtly that Jenkins was somewhat put out of + countenance. + </p> + <p> + “Just so. I was prepared for this refusal when I came here. But I am come + nevertheless. I have taken for motto, ‘To do good without hope,’ and I + remain faithful to my motto. So then, it is understood you prefer to the + honourable, worthy, and profitable existence which I have just proposed to + you, a life of hazard without aim and without dignity?” + </p> + <p> + Andre answered nothing, but his silence spoke for him. + </p> + <p> + “Take care. You know what that decision will involve, a definitive + estrangement, but you have always wanted that. I need not tell you,” + continued Jenkins, “that to break with me is to break off relations also + with your mother. She and I are one.” + </p> + <p> + The young man turned pale, hesitated a moment, then said with effort: + </p> + <p> + “If it please my mother to come to see me here, I shall be delighted, + certainly. But my determination to quit your house, to have no longer + anything in common with you, is irrevocable.” + </p> + <p> + “And will you at least say why?” + </p> + <p> + He made a negative sign; he would not say. + </p> + <p> + For once the Irishman felt a genuine impulse of anger. His whole face + assumed a cunning, savage expression which would have very much astonished + those that only knew the good and loyal Jenkins; but he took good care not + to push further an explanation which he feared perhaps as much as he + desired it. + </p> + <p> + “Adieu,” said he, half turning his head on the threshold. “And never apply + to us.” + </p> + <p> + “Never,” replied his stepson in a firm voice. + </p> + <p> + This time, when the doctor had said to Joey, “Place Vendome,” the horse, + as though he had understood that they were going to the Nabob’s, gave a + proud shake to his glittering curb-chains, and the brougham set off at + full speed, transforming each axle of its wheels into sunshine. “To come + so far to get a reception like that! A celebrity of the time to be treated + thus by that Bohemian! One may try indeed to do good!” Jenkins gave vent + to his anger in a long monologue of this character, then suddenly rousing + himself, exclaimed, “Ah, bah!” and what anxiety there was remaining on his + brow quickly vanished on the pavement of the Place Vendome. Noon was + striking everywhere in the sunshine. Issued forth from behind its curtain + of mist, luxurious Paris, awake and on its feet, was commencing its + whirling day. The shop-windows of the Rue de la Paix shone brightly. The + mansions of the square seemed to be ranging themselves haughtily for the + receptions of the afternoon; and, right at the end of the Rue Castiglione + with its white arcades, the Tuileries, beneath a fine burst of winter + sunshine, raised shivering statues, pink with cold, amid the stripped + trees. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0005" id="link2H_4_0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + A LUNCHEON IN THE PLACE VENDOME + </h2> + <p> + There were scarcely more than a score of persons that morning in the + Nabob’s dining-room, a dining-room in carved oak, supplied the previous + evening as it were by some great upholsterer, who at the same stroke had + furnished these suites of four drawing-rooms of which you caught sight + through an open doorway, the hangings on the ceiling, the objects of art, + the chandeliers, even the very plate on the sideboards and the servants + who were in attendance. It was obviously the kind of interior improvised + the moment he was out of the railway-train by a gigantic <i>parvenu</i> in + haste to enjoy. Although around the table there was no trace of any + feminine presence, no bright frock to enliven it, its aspect was yet not + monotonous, thanks to the dissimilarity, the oddness of the guests, people + belonging to every section of society, specimens of humanity detached from + all races, in France, in Europe, in the entire globe, from the top to the + bottom of the social ladder. To begin with, the master of the house—a + kind of giant, tanned, burned by the sun, saffron-coloured, with head in + his shoulders. His nose, which was short and lost in the puffiness of his + face, his woolly hair massed like a cap of astrakhan above a low and + obstinate forehead, and his bristly eyebrows with eyes like those of an + ambushed chapard gave him the ferocious aspect of a Kalmuck, of some + frontier savage living by war and rapine. Fortunately the lower part of + the face, the fleshy and strong lip which was lightened now and then by a + smile adorable in its kindness, quite redeemed, by an expression like that + of a St. Vincent de Paul, this fierce ugliness, this physiognomy so + original that it was no longer vulgar. An inferior extraction, however, + betrayed itself yet again by the voice, the voice of a Rhone waterman, + raucous and thick, in which the southern accent became rather uncouth than + hard, and by two broad and short hands, hairy at the back, square and + nailless fingers which, laid on the whiteness of the table-cloth, spoke of + their past with an embarrassing eloquence. Opposite him, on the other side + of the table at which he was one of the habitual guests, was seated the + Marquis de Monpavon, but a Monpavon presenting no resemblance to the + painted spectre of whom we had a glimpse in the last chapter. He was now a + haughty man of no particular age, fine majestic nose, a lordly bearing, + displaying a large shirt-front of immaculate linen crackling beneath the + continual effort of the chest to throw itself forward, and bulging itself + out each time with a noise like that made by a white turkey when it struts + in anger, or by a peacock when he spreads his tail. His name of Monpavon + suited him well. + </p> + <p> + Of great family and of a wealthy stock, but ruined by gambling and + speculation, the friendship of the Duc de Mora had secured him an + appointment as receiver-general in the first class. Unfortunately his + health had not permitted him to retain this handsome position—well-informed + people said his health had nothing to do with it—and for the last + year he had been living in Paris, awaiting his restoration to health, + according to his own account of the matter, before resuming his post. The + same people were confident that he would never regain it, and that even + were it not for certain exalted influences—However, he was the + important personage of the luncheon; that was clear from the manner in + which the servants waited upon him, and the Nabob consulted him, calling + him “Monsieur le Marquis,” as at the Comedie-Francaise, less almost out of + deference than from pride, by reason of the honour which it reflected upon + himself. Full of disdain for the people around him, M. le Marquis spoke + little, in a very high voice, and as though he were stooping towards those + whom he was honouring with his conversation. From time to time he would + throw to the Nabob across the table a few words enigmatical for all. + </p> + <p> + “I saw the duke yesterday. He was talking a great deal about you in + connection with that matter. You know, that thing—that business. + What was the name of it?” + </p> + <p> + “You really mean it? He spoke of me to you?” And the good Nabob, quite + proud, would look around him with movements of the head that were + supremely laughable, or perhaps assume the contemplative air of a devotee + who should hear the name of Our Lord pronounced. + </p> + <p> + “His excellency would have pleasure in seeing you take up the—ps, + ps, ps—the thing.” + </p> + <p> + “He told you so?” + </p> + <p> + “Ask the governor if he did not—heard it like myself.” + </p> + <p> + The person who was called the governor—Paganetti, to give him his + real name—was a little, expressive man, constantly gesticulating and + fatiguing to behold, so many were the different expressions which his face + would assume in the course of a single minute. He was managing director of + the Territorial Bank of Corsica, a vast financial enterprise, and had now + come to the house for the first time, introduced by Monpavon; he occupied + accordingly a place of honour. On the other side of the Nabob was an old + gentleman, buttoned up to the chin in a frock-coat having a straight + collar without lapels, like an Oriental tunic, his face slashed by a + thousand little bloodshot veins and wearing a white moustache of military + cut. It was Brahim Bey, the most valiant colonel of the Regency of Tunis, + aide-de-camp of the former Bey who had made the fortune of Jansoulet. The + glorious exploits of this warrior showed themselves written in wrinkles, + in blemishes wrought by debauchery upon the nerveless under-lip that hung + as it were relaxed, and upon his eyes without lashes, inflamed and red. It + was a head such as one may see in the dock at certain criminal trials that + are held with closed doors. The other guests were seated pell-mell, just + as they had happened to arrive or to find themselves, for the house was + open to everybody, and the table was laid every morning for thirty + persons. + </p> + <p> + There were present the manager of the theatre financed by the Nabob, + Cardailhac, renowned for his wit almost as much as for his insolvencies, a + marvellous carver who, while he was engaged in severing the limbs of a + partridge, would prepare one of his witticisms and deposit it with a wing + upon the plate which was presented to him. He worked up his witticisms + instead of improvising them, and the new fashion of serving meats, <i>a la + Russe</i> and carved beforehand, had been fatal to him by its removal of + all excuse for a preparatory silence. Consequently it was the general + remark that his vogue was on the decline. Parisian, moreover, a dandy to + the finger tips, and, as he himself was wont to boast, “with not one + particle of superstition in his whole body,” a characteristic which + permitted him to give very piquant details concerning the ladies of his + theatre to Brahim Bey—who listened to him as one turns over the + pages of a naughty book—and to talk theology to the young priest who + was his nearest neighbour, a curate of some little southern village, lean + and with a complexion sunburnt till it matched the cloth of his cassock in + colour, with fiery patches above the cheek-bones, and the pointed, + forward-pushing nose of the ambitious man, who would remark to Cardailhac + very loudly, in a tone of protection and sacerdotal authority: + </p> + <p> + “We are quite pleased with M. Guizot. He is doing very well—very + well. It is a conquest for the Church.” + </p> + <p> + Seated next this pontiff, with a black neck-band, old Schwalbach, the + famous picture-dealer, displayed his prophet’s beard, tawny in places like + a dirty fleece, his three overcoats tinged by mildew, all that loose and + negligent attire for which he was excused in the name of art, and because, + in a time when the mania for picture galleries had already begun to cause + millions to change hands, it was the proper thing to entertain the man who + was the best placed for the conduct of these absurdly vain transactions. + Schwalbach did not speak, contenting himself with gazing around him + through his enormous monocle, shaped like a hand magnifying-glass, and + with smiling in his beard over the singular neighbours made by this unique + assembly. Thus it happened that M. de Monpavon had quite close to him—and + it was a sight to watch how the disdainful curve of his nose was + accentuated at each glance in that direction—the singer Garrigou, a + fellow-countryman of Jansoulet, a distinguished ventriloquist who sang + Figaro in the dialect of the south, and had no equal in his imitations of + animals. Just beyond, Cabassu, another compatriot, a little short and + dumpy man, with the neck of a bull and the biceps of a statue by Michel + Angelo, who suggested at once a Marseilles hairdresser and the strong man + at a fair, a masseur, pedicure, manicure, and something of a dentist, sat + with elbows on the table with the coolness of a charlatan whom one + receives in the morning and knows the little infirmities, the intimate + distresses of the abode in which he chances to find himself. M. Bompain + completed this array of subordinates, all alike in one respect at any + rate, Bompain, the secretary, the steward, the confidential agent, through + whose hands the entire business of the house passed; and it sufficed to + observe that solemnly stupid attitude, that indefinite manner, the Turkish + fez placed awkwardly on a head suggestive of a village school-master, in + order to understand to what manner of people interests like those of the + Nabob had been abandoned. + </p> + <p> + Finally, to fill the gaps among these figures I have sketched, the Turkish + crowd—Tunisians, Moors, Egyptians, Levantines; and, mingled with + this exotic element, a whole variegated Parisian Bohemia of ruined + nobleman, doubtful traders, penniless journalists, inventors of strange + products, people arrived from the south without a farthing, all the lost + ships needing revictualling, or flocks of birds wandering aimlessly in the + night, which were drawn by this great fortune as by the light of a beacon. + The Nabob admitted this miscellaneous collection of individuals to his + table out of kindness, out of generosity, out of weakness, by reason of + his easy-going manners, joined to an absolute ignorance and a survival of + that loneliness of the exile, of that need for expansion which, down + yonder in Tunis, in his splendid palace of the Bardo, had caused him to + welcome everybody who hailed from France, from the small tradesman + exporting Parisian wares to the famous pianist on tour and the + consul-general himself. + </p> + <p> + As one listened to those various accents, those foreign intonations, gruff + or faltering, as one gazed upon those widely different physiognomies, some + violent, barbarous, vulgar, others hyper-civilized, worn, suggestive only + of the Boulevard and as it were flaccid, one noted that the same diversity + was evident also among the servants who, some apparently lads just out of + an office, insolent in manner, with heads of hair like a dentist’s or a + bath-attendant’s, busied themselves among Ethiopians standing motionless + and shining like candelabra of black marble, and it was impossible to say + exactly where one was; in any case, you would never have imagined yourself + to be in the Place Vendome, right in the beating heart and very centre of + the life of our modern Paris. Upon the table there was a like importation + of exotic dishes, saffron or anchovy sauces, spices mixed up with Turkish + delicacies, chickens with fried almonds, and all this taken together with + the banality of the interior, the gilding of the panels, the shrill + ringing of the new bells, gave the impression of a <i>table d’hote</i> in + some big hotel in Smyrna or Calcutta, or of a luxurious dining-saloon on + board a transatlantic liner, the “Pereire” or the “Sinai.” + </p> + <p> + It might seem that this diversity among the guests—I was about to + say among the passengers—ought to have caused the meal to be + animated and noisy. Far otherwise. They all ate nervously, watching each + other out of eye-corners, and even those most accustomed to society, those + who appeared the most at their ease, had in their glance the wandering + look and the distraction of a fixed idea, a feverish anxiety which caused + them to speak without relevance and to listen without understanding a word + of what was being said to them. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly the door of the dining-room opened. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, here comes Jenkins!” exclaimed the Nabob delightedly. “Welcome, + welcome, doctor. How are you, my friend?” + </p> + <p> + A smile to those around, a hearty shake of his host’s hand, and Jenkins + sat down opposite him, next to Monpavon, before a place at the table which + a servant had just prepared in all haste and without having received any + order, exactly as at a <i>table d’hote</i>. Among those preoccupied and + feverish faces, this one at any rate stood out in contrast by its good + humour, its cheerfulness, and that loquacious and flattering benevolence + which makes the Irish in a way the Gascons of England. And what a splendid + appetite! With what heartiness, what ease of conscience he used his white + teeth as he talked! + </p> + <p> + “Well, Jansoulet, you have read it?” + </p> + <p> + “What?” + </p> + <p> + “How, then! you do not know? You have not read what the <i>Messenger</i> + says about you this morning?” + </p> + <p> + Beneath the dark tan of his cheeks the Nabob blushed like a child, and, + his eyes shining with pleasure: + </p> + <p> + “Is it possible—the <i>Messenger</i> has spoken of me?” + </p> + <p> + “Through two columns. How is it that Moessard has not shown it to you?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh,” put in Moessard modestly, “it was not worth the trouble.” + </p> + <p> + He was a little journalist, with a fair complexion and smart in his dress, + sufficiently good-looking, but with a face which presented that worn + appearance noticeable as the special mark of waiters in night-restaurants, + actors, and light women, and produced by conventional grimacing and the + wan reflection of gaslight. He was reputed to be the paid lover of an + exiled and profligate queen. The rumour was whispered around him, and, in + his own world, secured him an envied and despicable position. + </p> + <p> + Jansoulet insisted on reading the article, impatient to know what had been + said of him. Unfortunately Jenkins had left his copy at the duke’s. + </p> + <p> + “Let some one go fetch me a <i>Messenger</i> quickly,” said the Nabob to + the servant behind him. + </p> + <p> + Moessard intervened. + </p> + <p> + “It is needless. I must have the thing on me somewhere.” + </p> + <p> + And with the absence of ceremony of the tavern <i>habitue</i>, of the + reporter who scribbles his paragraph with his glass beside him, the + journalist drew out a pocket-book, crammed full of notes, stamped papers, + newspaper cuttings, notes written on glazed paper with crests, which he + proceeded to litter over the table, pushing away his plate in order to + search for the proof of his article. + </p> + <p> + “There you are.” He passed it over to Jansoulet; but Jenkins besought him: + </p> + <p> + “No, no; read it aloud.” + </p> + <p> + The company having echoed the request in chorus, Moessard took back his + proof and commenced to read in a loud voice, “The Bethlehem Society and + Mr. Bernard Jansoulet,” a long dithyramb in favour of artificial + lactation, written from notes made by Jenkins, which were recognisable + through certain fine phrases much affected by the Irishman, such as “the + long martyrology of childhood,” “the sordid traffic in the breast,” “the + beneficent nanny-goat as foster-mother,” and finishing, after a pompous + description of the splendid establishment at Nanterre, with a eulogy of + Jenkins and a glorification of Jansoulet: “O Bernard Jansoulet, benefactor + of childhood!” It was a sight to see the vexed, scandalized faces of the + guests. What an intriguer was this Moessard! What an impudent piece of + sycophantry! And the same envious, disdainful smile quivered on every + mouth. And the deuce of it was that a man had to applaud, to appear + charmed, the master of the house not being weary as yet of incense, and + taking everything very seriously, both the article and the applause it + provoked. His big face shone during the reading. Often, down yonder, far + away, had he dreamed a dream of having his praises sung like this in the + newspapers of Paris, of being somebody in that society, the first among + all, on which the entire world has its eyes fixed as on the bearer of a + torch. Now, that dream was becoming a reality. He gazed upon all these + people seated at his board, the sumptuous dessert, this panelled + dining-room as high, certainly, as the church of his native village; he + listened to the dull murmur of Paris rolling along in its carriages and + treading the pavements beneath his windows, with the intimate conviction + that he was about to become an important piece in that active and + complicated machine. And then, through the atmosphere of physical + well-being produced by the meal, between the lines of that triumphant + vindication, by an effect of contrast, he beheld unfold itself his own + existence, his youth, adventurous as it was sad, the days without bread, + the nights without shelter. Then suddenly, the reading having come to an + end, his joy overflowing in one of those southern effusions which force + thought into speech, he cried, beaming upon his guests with that frank and + thick-lipped smile of his: + </p> + <p> + “Ah, my friends, my dear friends, if you could know how happy I am! What + pride I feel!” + </p> + <p> + Scarce six weeks had passed since he had landed in France. Excepting two + or three compatriots, those whom he thus addressed as his friends were but + the acquaintances of a day, and that through his having lent them money. + This sudden expansion, therefore, appeared sufficiently extraordinary; but + Jansoulet, too much under the sway of emotion to notice anything, + continued: + </p> + <p> + “After what I have just heard, when I behold myself here in this great + Paris, surrounded by all its wealth of illustrious names, of distinguished + intellects, and then call up the remembrance of my father’s booth! For I + was born in a booth. My father used to sell old nails at the corner of a + boundary stone in the Bourg-Saint-Andeol. If we had bread in the house + every day and stew every Sunday it was the most we had to expect. Ask + Cabassu whether it was not so. He knew me in those days. He can tell you + whether I am not speaking the truth. Oh, yes, I have known what poverty + is.” He threw back his head with an impulse of pride as he savoured the + odour of truffles diffused through the suffocating atmosphere. “I have + known it, and the real thing too, and for a long time. I have been cold. I + have known hunger—genuine hunger, remember—the hunger that + intoxicates, that wrings the stomach, sets circles dancing in your head, + deprives you of sight as if the inside of your eyes was being gouged out + with an oyster-knife. I have passed days in bed for want of an overcoat to + go out in; fortunate at that when I had a bed, which was not always. I + have sought my bread from every trade, and that bread cost me such bitter + toil, it was so black, so tough, that in my mouth I keep still the flavour + of its acrid and mouldy taste. And thus until I was thirty. Yes, my + friends, at thirty years of age—and I am not yet fifty—I was + still a beggar, without a sou, without a future, with the remorseful + thought of the poor old mother, become a widow, who was half-dying of + hunger away yonder in her booth, and to whom I had nothing to give.” + </p> + <p> + Around this Amphitryon recounting the story of his evil days the faces of + his hearers expressed curiosity. Some appeared shocked, Monpavon + especially. For him, this exposure of rags was in execrable taste, an + absolute breach of good manners. Cardailhac, sceptical and dainty, an + enemy to scenes of emotion, with face set as if it were hypnotized, sliced + a fruit on the end of his fork into wafers as thin as cigarette papers. + </p> + <p> + The governor exhibited, on the contrary, a flatly admiring demeanour, + uttering exclamations of amazement and compassion; while, not far away, in + singular contrast, Brahmin Bey, the thunderbolt of war, upon whom this + reading followed by a lecture after a heavy meal had had the effect of + inducing a restorative slumber, slept with his mouth open beneath his + white moustache, his face congested by his collar, which had slipped up. + But the most general expression was one of indifference and boredom. What + could it matter to them, I ask you; what had they to do with Jansoulet’s + childhood in the Bourg-Saint-Andeol, the trials he had endured, the way in + which he had trudged his path? They had not come to listen to idle + nonsense of that kind. Airs of interest falsely affected, glances that + counted the ovals of the ceiling or the bread-crumbs on the table-cloth, + mouths compressed to stifle a yawn, betrayed, accordingly, the general + impatience provoked by this untimely story. Yet he himself seemed not to + weary of it. He found pleasure in the recital of his sufferings past, even + as the mariner safe in port, remembering his voyagings over distant seas, + and the perils and the great shipwrecks. There followed the story of his + good luck, the prodigious chance that had placed him suddenly upon the + road to fortune. “I was wandering about the quays of Marseilles with a + comrade as poverty-stricken as myself, who is become rich, he also, in the + service of the Bey, and, after having been my chum, my partner, is now my + most cruel enemy. I may mention his name, <i>pardi</i>! It is sufficiently + well known—Hemerlingue. Yes, gentlemen, the head of the great + banking house. ‘Hemerlingue & Co.’ had not in those days even the + wherewithal to buy a pennyworth of <i>clauvisses</i> on the quay. + Intoxicated by the atmosphere of travel that one breathes down there, the + idea came into our minds of starting out, of going to seek our livelihood + in some country where the sun shines, since the lands of mist were so + inhospitable to us. But where to go? We did what sailors sometimes do in + order to decide in what low hole they will squander their pay. You fix a + scrap of paper on the brim of your hat. You make the hat spin on a + walking-stick; when it stops spinning you follow the pointer. In our case + the paper needle pointed towards Tunis. A week later I landed at Tunis + with half a louis in my pocket, and I came back to-day with twenty-five + millions!” + </p> + <p> + An electric shock passed round the table; there was a gleam in every eye, + even in those of the servants. Cardailhac said, “Phew!” Monpavon’s nose + descended to common humanity. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, my boys, twenty-five millions in liquidated cash, without speaking + of all that I have left in Tunis, of my two palaces at the Bardo, of my + vessels in the harbour of La Goulette, of my diamonds, of my precious + stones, which are worth certainly more than the double. And you know,” he + added, with his kindly smile and in his hoarse, plebeian voice, “when that + is done there will still be more.” + </p> + <p> + The whole company rose to its feet, galvanized. + </p> + <p> + “Bravo! Ah, bravo!” + </p> + <p> + “Splendid!” + </p> + <p> + “Deuced clever—deuced clever!” + </p> + <p> + “Now, that is something worth talking about.” + </p> + <p> + “A man like him ought to be in the Chamber.” + </p> + <p> + “He will be, <i>per Bacco</i>! I answer for it,” said the governor in a + piercing voice; and in the transport of admiration, not knowing how to + express his enthusiasm, he seized the fat, hairy hand of the Nabob and on + an unreflective impulse raised it to his lips. They are demonstrative in + his country. Everybody was standing up; no one sat down again. + </p> + <p> + Jansoulet, beaming, had risen in his turn, and, throwing down his + serviette: “Let us go and have some coffee,” he said. + </p> + <p> + A glad tumult immediately spread through the salons, vast apartments in + which light, decoration, sumptuousness, were represented by gold alone. It + seemed to fall from the ceiling in blinding rays, it oozed from the walls + in mouldings, sashes, framings of every kind. A little of it remained on + your hands if you moved a piece of furniture or opened a window; and the + very hangings, dipped in this Pactolus, kept on their straight folds the + rigidity, the sparkle of a metal. But nothing bearing the least personal + stamp, nothing intimate, nothing thought out. The monotonous luxury of the + furnished flat. And there was a re-enforcement of this impression of a + moving camp, of a merely provisory home, in the suggestion of travel which + hovered like an uncertainty or a menace over this fortune derived from + far-off sources. + </p> + <p> + Coffee having been served, in the Eastern manner, with all its grounds, in + little cups filigreed with silver, the guests grouped themselves round, + making haste to drink, scalding themselves, keeping watchful eyes on each + other and especially on the Nabob as they looked out for the favourable + moment to spring upon him, draw him into some corner of those immense + rooms, and at length negotiate their loan. For this it was that they had + been awaiting for two hours; this was the object of their visit and the + fixed idea which gave them during the meal that absent, falsely attentive + manner. But here no more constraint, no more pretence. In that peculiar + social world of theirs it is of common knowledge that in the Nabob’s busy + life the hour of coffee remains the only time free for private audiences, + and each desiring to profit by it, all having come there in order to + snatch a handful of wool from the golden fleece offered them with so much + good nature, people no longer talk, they no longer listen, every man is + absorbed in his own errand of business. + </p> + <p> + It is the good Jenkins who begins. Having drawn his friend Jansoulet aside + into a recess, he submits to him the estimates for the house at Nanterre. + A big purchase, indeed! A cash price of a hundred and fifty thousand + francs, then considerable expenses in connection with getting the place + into proper order, the personal staff, the bedding, the nanny-goats for + milking purposes, the manager’s carriage, the omnibuses going to meet the + children coming by every train. A great deal of money. But how well off + and comfortable they will be there, those dear little things! what a + service rendered to Paris, to humanity! The Government cannot fail to + reward with a bit of red ribbon so disinterested, so philanthropic a + devotion. “The Cross, on the 15th of August.” With these magic words + Jenkins will obtain everything he desires. In his merry, guttural voice, + which seems always as though it were hailing a boat in a fog, the Nabob + calls, “Bompain!” + </p> + <p> + The man in the fez, quickly leaving the liqueur-stand, walks majestically + across the room, whispers, moves away, and returns with an inkstand and a + counterfoil check-book from which the slips detach themselves and fly away + of their own accord. A fine thing, wealth! To sign a check on his knee for + two hundred thousand francs troubles Jansoulet no more than to draw a + louis from his pocket. + </p> + <p> + Furious, with noses in their cups, the others watch this little scene from + a distance. Then, as Jenkins takes his departure, bright, smiling, with a + nod to the various groups, Monpavon seizes the governor: “Now is our + chance.” And both, springing on the Nabob, drag him off towards a couch, + oblige him almost forcibly to sit down, press upon each side of him with a + ferocious little laugh that seems to signify, “What shall we do with him + now?” Get the money out of him, the largest amount possible. It is needed, + to set afloat once more the Territorial Bank, for years lain aground on a + sand-bank, buried to the very top of its masts. A superb operation, this + re-flotation, if these two gentlemen are to be believed, for the submerged + bank is full of ingots, of precious things, of the thousand various forms + of wealth of a new country discussed by everybody and known by none. + </p> + <p> + In founding this unique establishment, Paganetti of Porto-Vecchio had as + his aim to monopolize the commercial development of the whole of Corsica: + iron mines, sulphur mines, copper mines, marble quarries, coral fisheries, + oyster beds, water ferruginous and sulphurous, immense forests of thuya, + of cork-oak, and to establish for the facilitation of this development a + network of railways over the island, with a service of packet-boats in + addition. Such is the gigantic undertaking to which he has devoted + himself. He has sunk considerable capital in it, and it is the new-comer, + the workman of the last hour, who will gain the whole profit. + </p> + <p> + While with his Italian accent and violent gestures the Corsican enumerates + the “splendours” of the affair, Monpavon, haughty, and with an air + calculated to command confidence, nods his head approvingly with + conviction, and from time to time, when he judges the moment propitious, + throws into the conversation the name of the Duc de Mora, which never + fails in its effect on the Nabob. + </p> + <p> + “Well, in short, how much would be required?” + </p> + <p> + “Millions,” says Monpavon boldly, in the tone of a man who would have no + difficulty in addressing himself elsewhere. “Yes, millions; but the + enterprise is magnificent. And, as his excellency was saying, it would + provide even a political position. Just think! In that district without a + metallic currency, you might become counsellor-general, deputy.” The Nabob + gives a start. And the little Paganetti, who feels the bait quiver on his + hook: “Yes, deputy. You will be that whenever I choose. At a sign from me + all Corsica is at your disposal.” Then he launches out into an astonishing + improvisation, counting the votes which he controls, the cantons which + will obey his call. “You bring me your capital. I—I give you an + entire people.” The cause is gained. + </p> + <p> + “Bompain, Bompain!” calls the Nabob, roused to enthusiasm. He has now but + one fear, that is lest the thing escape him; and in order to bind + Paganetti, who has not concealed his need of money, he hastens to effect + the payment of a first instalment to the Territorial bank. New appearance + of the man in red breeches with the check-book which he carries clasped + gravely to his chest, like a choir-boy moving the Gospel from one side to + the other. New inscription of Jansoulet’s signature upon a slip, which the + governor pockets with a negligent air and which operates on his person a + sudden transformation. The Paganetti who was so humble and spiritless just + now, goes away with the assurance of a man worth four hundred thousand + francs, while Monpavon, carrying it even higher than usual, follows after + him in his steps, and watches over him with a more than paternal + solicitude. + </p> + <p> + “That’s a good piece of business done,” says the Nabob to himself. “I can + drink my coffee now.” + </p> + <p> + But the borrowers are waiting for him to pass. The most prompt, the most + adroit, is Cardailhac, the manager, who lays hold of him and bears him off + into a side-room. + </p> + <p> + “Let us have a little talk, old friend. I must explain to you the + situation of affairs in connection with our theatre.” Very complicated, + doubtless, the situation; for here is M. Bompain who advances once more, + and there are the slips of blue paper flying away from the check-book. + Whose turn now? There is the journalist Moessard coming to draw his pay + for the article in the <i>Messenger</i>; the Nabob will find out what it + costs to have one’s self called “benefactor of childhood” in the morning + papers. There is the parish priest from the country who demands funds for + the restoration of his church, and takes checks by assault with the + brutality of a Peter the Hermit. There is old Schwalbach coming up with + nose in his beard and winking mysteriously. + </p> + <p> + “Sh! He had found a pearl for monsieur’s gallery, an Hobbema from the + collection of the Duc de Mora. But several people are after it. It will be + difficult—” + </p> + <p> + “I must have it at any price,” says the Nabob, hooked by the name of Mora. + “You understand, Schwalbach. I must have this Hobbema. Twenty thousand + francs for you if you secure it.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall do my utmost, M. Jansoulet.” + </p> + <p> + And the old rascal calculates, as he goes away, that the twenty thousand + of the Nabob added to the ten thousand promised him by the duke if he gets + rid of his picture for him, will make a nice little profit for himself. + </p> + <p> + While these fortunate ones follow each other, others look on around, wild + with impatience, biting their nails to the quick, for all are come on the + same errand. From the good Jenkins, who opened the advance, to the masseur + Cabassu, who closes it, all draw the Nabob away to some room apart. But, + however far they lead him down this gallery of reception-rooms, there is + always some indiscreet mirror to reflect the profile of the host and the + gestures of his broad back. That back has eloquence. Now and then it + straightens itself up in indignation. “Oh, no; that is too much.” Or again + it sinks forward with a comical resignation. “Well, since it must be so.” + And always Bompain’s fez in some corner of the view. + </p> + <p> + When those are finished, others arrive. They are the small fry who follow + in the wake of the big eaters in the ferocious hunts of the rivers. There + is a continual coming and going through these handsome white-and-gold + drawing rooms, a noise of doors, an established current of bare-faced and + vulgar exploitation attracted from the four corners of Paris and the + suburbs by this gigantic fortune and incredible facility. + </p> + <p> + For these small sums, these regular distributions, recourse was not had to + the check-book. For such purposes the Nabob kept in one of his rooms a + mahogany chest of drawers, a horrible little piece of furniture + representing the savings of a house porter, the first that Jansoulet had + bought when he had been able to give up living in furnished apartments; + which he had preserved since, like a gambler’s fetish; and the three + drawers of which contained always two hundred thousand francs in cash. It + was to this constant supply that he had recourse on the days of his large + receptions, displaying a certain ostentation in the way in which he would + handle the gold and silver, by great handfuls, thrusting it to the bottom + of his pockets to draw it out thence with the gesture of a cattle dealer; + a certain vulgar way of raising the skirts of his frock-coat and of + sending his hand “to the bottom and into the pile.” To-day there must be a + terrible void in the drawers of the little chest. + </p> + <p> + After so many mysterious whispered confabulations, demands more or less + clearly formulated, chance entries and triumphant departures, the last + client having been dismissed, the chest of drawers closed and locked, the + flat in the Place Vendome began to empty in the uncertain light of the + afternoon towards four o’clock, that close of the November days so + exceedingly prolonged afterward by artificial light. The servants were + clearing away the coffee and the raki, and bearing off the open and + half-emptied cigar-boxes. The Nabob, thinking himself alone, gave a sigh + of relief. “Ouf! that’s over.” But no. Opposite him, some one comes out + from a corner that is already dark, and approaches with a letter in his + hand. + </p> + <p> + Another! + </p> + <p> + And at once, mechanically, the poor man made that eloquent, horse-dealer’s + gesture of his. Instinctively, also, the visitor showed a movement of + recoil so prompt, so hurt, that the Nabob understood that he was making a + mistake, and took the trouble to examine the young man who stood before + him, simply but correctly dressed, of a dull complexion, without the least + sign of a beard, with regular features, perhaps a little too serious and + fixed for his age, which, aided by his hair of pale blond colour, curled + in little ringlets like a powdered wig, gave him the appearance of a young + deputy of the Commons under Louis XVI, the head of a Barnave at twenty! + This face, although the Nabob beheld it for the first time, was not + absolutely unknown to him. + </p> + <p> + “What do you desire, monsieur?” + </p> + <p> + Taking the letter which the young man held out to him, he went to a window + in order to see to read it. + </p> + <p> + “Te! It is from mamma.” + </p> + <p> + He said it with so happy an air; that word “mamma” lit up all his face + with so young, so kind a smile, that the visitor, who had been at first + repulsed by the vulgar aspect of this <i>parvenu</i>, felt himself filled + with sympathy for him. + </p> + <p> + In an undertone the Nabob read these few lines written in an awkward hand, + incorrect and shaky, which contrasted with the large glazed note-paper, + with its heading “Chateau de Saint-Romans.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear son, this letter will be delivered to you by the eldest son of M. + de Gery, the former justice of the peace for Bourg-Saint-Andeol, who has + shown us so much kindness.” + </p> + <p> + The Nabob broke off his reading. + </p> + <p> + “I ought to have recognised you, M. de Gery. You resemble your father. Sit + down, I beg of you.” + </p> + <p> + Then he finished running through the letter. His mother asked him nothing + precise, but, in the name of the services which the de Gery family had + rendered them in former years, she recommended M. Paul to him. An orphan, + burdened with the care of his two young brothers, he had been called to + the bar in the south, and was now coming to Paris to seek his fortune. She + implored Jansoulet to aid him, “for he needed it badly, poor fellow,” and + she signed herself, “Thy mother who pines for thee, Francoise.” + </p> + <p> + This letter from his mother, whom he had not seen for six years, those + expressions of the south country of which he could hear the intonations + that he knew so well, that coarse handwriting which sketched for him an + adored face, all wrinkled, scored, and cracked, but smiling beneath its + peasant’s head-dress, had affected the Nabob. During the six weeks that he + had been in France, lost in the whirl of Paris, the business of getting + settled in his new habitation, he had not yet given a thought to his dear + old lady at home; and now he saw all of her again in these lines. He + remained a moment looking at the letter, which trembled in his heavy + fingers. + </p> + <p> + Then, this emotion having passed: + </p> + <p> + “M. de Gery,” said he, “I am glad of the opportunity which is about to + permit me to repay to you a little of the kindness which your family has + shown to mine. From to-day, if you consent, I take you into my house. You + are educated, you seem intelligent, you can be of great service to me. I + have a thousand plans, a thousand affairs in hand. I am being drawn into a + crowd of large industrial enterprises. I want some one who will aid me; + represent me at need. I have indeed a secretary, a steward, that excellent + Bompain, but the unfortunate fellow knows nothing of Paris; he has been, + as it were, bewildered ever since his arrival. You will tell me that you + also come straight from the country, but that does not matter. Well + brought up as you are, a southerner, alert and adaptable, you will quickly + pick up the routine of the Boulevard. For the rest, I myself undertake + your education from that point of view. In a few weeks you will find + yourself, I answer for it, as much at home in Paris as I am.” + </p> + <p> + Poor man! It was touching to hear him speak of his Parisian habits, and of + his experience; he whose destiny it was to be always a beginner. + </p> + <p> + “Now, that is understood, is it not? I engage you as secretary. You will + have a fixed salary which we will settle directly, and I shall provide you + with the opportunity to make your fortune rapidly.” + </p> + <p> + And while de Gery, raised suddenly above all the anxieties of a newcomer, + of one who solicits a favour, of a neophyte, did not move for fear of + awaking from a dream: + </p> + <p> + “Now,” said the Nabob to him in a gentle voice, “sit down there, next me, + and let us talk a little about mamma.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0006" id="link2H_4_0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + MEMOIRS OF AN OFFICE PORTER A MERE GLANCE AT THE TERRITORIAL BANK + </h2> + <p> + I had just finished my frugal morning repast and, as my habit was, placed + the remains of my modest provisions in the board-room safe with a secret + lock, which has served me as a store-cupboard during four years, almost, + that I have been at the Territorial. Suddenly the governor walks into the + offices, with his face all red and eyes inflamed, as though after a + night’s feasting, draws in his breath noisily, and in rude terms says to + me, with his Italian accent: + </p> + <p> + “But this place stinks, <i>Moussiou</i> Passajon.” + </p> + <p> + The place did not stink, if you like the word. Only—shall I say it?—I + had ordered a few onions to garnish a knuckle of veal which Mme. Seraphine + had sent down to me, she being the cook on the second floor, whose + accounts I write out for her every evening. I tried to explain the matter + to the governor, but he had flown into a temper, saying that to his mind + there was no sense in poisoning the atmosphere of an office in that way, + and that it was not worth while to maintain premises at a rent of twelve + thousand francs, with eight windows fronting full on the Boulevard + Malesherbes, in order to roast onions in them. I don’t know what he did + not say to me in his passion. For my own part, naturally I got angry at + hearing myself addressed in that insolent manner. It is surely the least a + man can do to be polite with people in his service whom he does not pay. + What the deuce! So I answered him that it was annoying, in truth, but that + if the Territorial Bank paid me what it owed me, namely, four years’ + arrears of salary, <i>plus</i> seven thousand francs personal advances + made by me to the governor for expenses of cabs, newspapers, cigars, and + American grogs on board days, I would go and eat decently at the nearest + cookshop, and should not be reduced to cooking, in the room where our + board was accustomed to sit, a wretched stew, for which I had to thank the + public compassion of female cooks. Take that! + </p> + <p> + In speaking thus I had yielded to an impulse of indignation very excusable + in the eyes of any person whatever acquainted with my position here. Even + so, I had said nothing improper and had confined myself within the limits + of language conformable to my age and education. (I must have mentioned + somewhere in the course of these memoirs that of the sixty-five years I + have lived I passed more than thirty as beadle to the Faculty of Letters + in Dijon. Hence my taste for reports and memoirs, and those ideas of + academical style of which traces will be found in many passages of this + lucubration.) I had, then, expressed myself in the governor’s presence + with the most complete reserve, without employing any one of those terms + of abuse to which he is treated by everybody here, from our two censors—M. + de Monpavon, who, every time he comes, calls him laughingly + “Fleur-de-Mazas,” and M. de Bois l’Hery, of the Trumpet Club, coarse as a + groom, who, for adieu, always greets him with, “To your bedstead, bug!”—to + our cashier, whom I have heard repeat a hundred times, tapping on his big + book, “That he has in there enough to send him to the galleys when he + pleases.” Ah, well! All the same, my simple observation produced an + extraordinary effect upon him. The circles round his eyes became quite + yellow, and, trembling with rage, one of those evil rages of his country, + he uttered these words: “Passajon, you are a blackguard. One word more, + and I discharge you!” Stupor nailed me to the floor when I heard them. + Discharge me—<i>me!</i> and my four years’ arrears, and my seven + thousand francs of money lent! + </p> + <p> + As though he could read my thought before it was put into words, the + governor replied that all accounts were going to be settled, mine + included. “And as to that,” he added, “summon these gentlemen to my + private room. I have important news to announce to them.” + </p> + <p> + Upon that, he went into his office, banging the doors. + </p> + <p> + That devil of a man! In vain you may know him to the core—know him a + liar, a comedian—he manages always to get the better of you with his + stories. My account, mine!—mine! I was so affected by the thought + that my legs seemed to give way beneath me as I went to inform the staff. + </p> + <p> + According to the regulations, there are twelve of us employed at the + Territorial Bank, including the governor and the handsome Moessard, + manager of <i>Financial Truth</i>; but more than half of that number were + wanting. To begin with, since <i>Truth</i> ceased to be issued—it is + two years since its last appearance—M. Moessard has not once set + foot in the place. It seems he moves amid honours and riches, has a queen + for his mistress—a real queen—who gives him all the money he + desires. Oh, what a Babylon, this Paris! The others come from time to time + to learn whether by chance anything new has happened at the bank; and, as + nothing ever has, we remain weeks without seeing them. Four or five + faithful ones, all poor old men like myself, persist in putting in an + appearance regularly every morning at the same hour, from habit, from want + of occupation, not knowing what else to do. Every one, however, busies + himself about things quite foreign to the work of the office. A man must + live, you know. And then, too, one cannot pass the day dragging one’s self + from easy chair to easy chair, from window to window, to look out of doors + (eight windows fronting on the Boulevard). So one tries to do some work as + best one can. I myself, as I have said, keep the accounts of Mme. + Seraphine, and of another cook in the building. Also, I write my memoirs, + which, again, takes a good deal of my time. Our receipt clerk—one + who has not very hard work with us—makes line for a firm that deals + in fishing requisites. Of our two copying-clerks, one, who writes a good + hand, copies plays for a dramatic agency; the other invents little + halfpenny toys which the hawkers sell at street corners about the time of + the New Year, and manages by this means to keep himself from dying of + hunger during all the rest of the year. Our cashier is the only one who + does no outside work. He would believe his honour lost if he did. He is a + very proud man, who never utters a complaint, and whose one dread is to + have the appearance of being in want of linen. Locked in his office, he is + occupied from morning till evening in the manufacture of shirt-fronts, + collars, and cuffs of paper. In this, he has attained very great skill, + and his ever-dazzling linen would deceive, if it were not that at the + least movement, when he walks, when he sits down, the stuff crackles upon + him as though he had a cardboard box under his waistcoat. Unfortunately + all this paper does not feed him; and he is so thin, has such a mien, that + you ask yourself on what he lives. Between ourselves, I suspect him of + paying a visit sometimes to my store-cupboard. He can do so with ease; + for, as cashier, he has the “word” which opens the safe with the secret + lock, and I fancy that when my back is turned he forages a little among my + provisions. + </p> + <p> + These are certainly very extraordinary, very incredible internal + arrangements for a banking house. It is, however, the mere truth that I am + telling, and Paris is full of financial institutions after the pattern of + ours. Oh, if ever I publish my memoirs! But to take up the interrupted + thread of my story. + </p> + <p> + When he saw us all collected in his private room, the manager said to us + with solemnity: + </p> + <p> + “Gentlemen and dear comrades, the time of trials is ended. The Territorial + Bank inaugurates a new phase.” + </p> + <p> + Upon this he commenced to speak to us of a superb <i>combinazione</i>—it + is his favourite word and he pronounces it in such an insinuating manner—a + <i>combinazione</i> into which there was entering this famous Nabob, of + whom all the newspapers are talking. The Territorial Bank was therefore + about to find itself in a position which would enable it to acquit itself + of its obligations to its faithful servants, recognise acts of devotion, + rid itself of useless parasites. This for me, I imagine. And in + conclusion: “Prepare your statements. All accounts will be settled not + later than to-morrow.” Unhappily he has so often soothed us with lying + words, that the effect of his speech was lost. Formerly these fine + promises were always swallowed. At the announcement of a new <i>combinazione</i>, + there used to be dancing, weeping for joy in the offices, and men would + embrace each other like shipwrecked sailors discovering a sail. + </p> + <p> + Each one would prepare his account for the morrow, as he had said. But on + the morrow, no manager. The day following, still nobody. He had left town + on a little journey. + </p> + <p> + At length, one day when all would be there, exasperated, putting out our + tongues, maddened by the water which he had brought to our mouths, the + governor would arrive, let himself drop into an easy chair, his head in + his hands, and before one could speak to him: “Kill me,” he would say, + “kill me. I am a wretched impostor. The <i>combinazione</i> has failed. It + has failed, <i>Pechero!</i> the <i>combinazione</i>.” And he would cry, + sob, throw himself on his knees, pluck out his hair by handfuls, roll on + the carpet. He would call us by our Christian names, implore us to put an + end to his existence, speak of his wife and children whose ruin he had + consummated. And none of us would have the courage to protest in face of a + despair so formidable. What do I say? One always ended by sympathizing + with him. No, since theatres have existed, never has there been a comedian + of his ability. But to-day, that is all over, confidence is gone. When he + had left, every one shrugged his shoulders. I must admit, however, that + for a moment I had been shaken. That assurance about the settling of my + account, and then the name of the Nabob, that man so rich—— + </p> + <p> + “You actually believe it, you?” the cashier said to me. “You will be + always innocent, then, my poor Passajon. Don’t disturb yourself. It will + be the same with the Nabob as it was with Moessard’s Queen.” And he + returned to the manufacture of his shirt-fronts. + </p> + <p> + What he had just said referred to the time when Moessard was making love + to his Queen, and had promised the governor that in case of success he + would induce her Majesty to put capital into our undertaking. At the + office, we were all aware of this new adventure, and very anxious, as you + may imagine, that it should succeed quickly, since our money depended upon + it. For two months this story held all of us breathless. We felt some + disquiet, we kept a watch on Moessard’s face, considered that the lady was + inclined to insist upon a great deal of ceremony; and our old cashier, + with his dignified and serious air, when he was questioned on the matter, + would answer gravely, behind his wire screen: “Nothing fresh,” or “The + thing is in a good way.” Whereupon everybody was contented. One would say + to another, “It is making progress,” as though merely an ordinary + enterprise was in question. No, in good truth, there is only one Paris, + where one can see such things. Positively it makes your head turn + sometimes. In a word, Moessard, one fine morning, ceased coming to the + office. He had succeeded, it appears, but the Territorial Bank had not + seemed to him a sufficiently advantageous investment for the money of his + mistress. Now, I ask you, was that honest? + </p> + <p> + For that matter, the notion of honesty is lost so easily as hardly to be + believed. When I reflect that I, Passajon, with my white hair, my + venerable appearance, my so blameless past—thirty years of + academical services—am grown accustomed to living like a fish in the + water, in the midst of these infamies, this swindling! One might well ask + what I am doing here, why I remain, how I am come to this. + </p> + <p> + How I am come to it? Oh, <i>mon Dieu!</i> very simply. Four years ago, my + wife being dead, my children married, I had just retired from my post as + hall-porter at the college, when an advertisement in the newspaper chanced + to meet my eye: “Wanted, an office-porter, middle-aged, at the Territorial + Bank, 56, Boulevard Malesherbes. Good references.” Let me confess it at + the outset. The modern Babylon had always attracted me. Then, too, I felt + myself still a young man. I saw before me ten good years during which I + might earn a little money, a great deal, perhaps, by means of investing my + savings in the banking-house which I should enter. So I wrote, inclosing + my photograph, the one taken at Crespon’s, in the Market Place, which + represents me with chin closely shaven, a keen eye beneath my thick white + eyebrows, my steel chain about my neck, my ribbon as an academy official, + “the air of a conscript father upon his curule-chair,” as M. Chalmette, + our dean used to say. (He insisted also that I much resembled the late + King Louis XVIII; less strongly, however.) I supplied, further, the best + of references; the most flattering recommendations from the gentlemen of + the college. By return of post, the governor replied that my appearance + pleased him—I believe it, <i>parbleu!</i> an antechamber in the + charge of a person with a striking face like mine is a bait for the + shareholder—and that I might come when I liked. I ought, you may say + to me, myself also to have made my inquiries. Eh! no doubt. But I had to + give so much information about myself that it never occurred to me to ask + for any about them. Besides, how could a man be suspicious, seeing this + admirable installation, these lofty ceilings, these great safes, as big as + cupboards, and these mirrors, in which you can see yourself from head to + knee? And then those sonorous prospectuses, those millions that I seemed + to hear flying through the air, those colossal enterprises with their + fabulous profits. I was dazzled, fascinated. It must be mentioned, too, + that at the time the house did not bear quite the aspect which it has + to-day. Certainly, business was already going badly—our business + always has gone badly—the paper appeared only at irregular + intervals. But a little <i>combinazione</i> of the governor’s enabled him + to save appearances. + </p> + <p> + He had conceived the idea, just imagine, of opening a patriotic + subscription for the purpose of erecting a statue to General Paolo Paoli, + or some such name; in any case, to a great countryman of his own. Money + flowed accordingly into the Territorial. Unfortunately, that state of + things did not last. By the end of a couple of months the statue was eaten + up before it had been made, and the series of protests and writs + recommenced. Nowadays I am accustomed to them. But in the days when I had + just come from the country, the Auvergnats at the door, caused me a + painful impression. In the house, nobody paid attention to such things any + longer. It was known that at the last moment there would always arrive a + Monpavon, a Bois l’Hery, to pacify the bailiffs; for all those gentlemen, + being deeply implicated in the concern, have an interest in avoiding a + bankruptcy. That is the very circumstance which saves him, our wily + governor. The others run after their money—we know the meaning which + that expression has in gaming—and they would not like all the stock + on their hands to become worthless save to sell for waste paper. + </p> + <p> + Small and great, that is the case of all of us who are connected with the + firm. From the landlord, to whom two years’ rent is owing and who, for + fear of losing it all, allows us to stay for nothing, to us poor + employees, even to me, who am involved to the extent of my seven thousand + francs of savings and my four years of arrears, we are running after our + money. That is the reason why I remain obstinately here. + </p> + <p> + Doubtless, in spite of my advanced age, thanks to my good appearance, to + my education, to the care which I have always taken of my clothes, I might + have obtained some post under other management. There is one person of + excellent repute known to me, M. Joyeuse, a bookkeeper in the firm of + Hemerlingue & Son, the great bankers of the Rue Saint-Honore, who, + every time he meets me, never fails to remark: + </p> + <p> + “Passajon, my friend, don’t stop in that den of brigands. You are wrong to + persist in remaining. You will never get a halfpenny out of them. So come + to Hemerlingue’s. I undertake to find some little corner for you there. + You will earn less, but you will be paid much more.” + </p> + <p> + I feel that he is quite right, that worthy fellow. But the thing is + stronger than I. I cannot make up my mind to leave. And yet it is by no + means gay, the life I lead here in these great, cold rooms, where no one + ever comes, where each man stows himself away in a corner without + speaking. What will you have? Each knows the other too well. Everything + has been said already. + </p> + <p> + Again, until last year, we used to have sittings of the board of + inspection, meetings of shareholders, stormy and noisy assemblies, + veritable battles of savages, from which the cries could be heard to the + Madeleine. Several times a week also there would call subscribers + indignant at no longer ever receiving any news of their money. It was on + such occasions that our governor shone. I have seen these people, + monsieur, go into his office furious as wolves thirsting for blood, and, + after a quarter of an hour, come out milder than sheep, satisfied, + reassured, and their pockets relieved of a few bank-notes. For, there lay + the acme of his cleverness; in the extraction of money from the unlucky + people who came to demand it. Nowadays the shareholders of the Territorial + Bank no longer give any sign of existence. I think they are all dead or + else resigned to the situation. The board never meets. The sittings only + take place on paper; it is I who am charged with the preparation of a + so-called report—always the same—which I copy out afresh each + quarter. We should never see a living soul, if, at long intervals, there + did not rise from the depths of Corsica some subscribers to the statue of + Paoli, curious to know how the monument is progressing; or, it may be, + some worthy reader of <i>Financial Truth</i>, which died over two years + ago, who calls to renew his subscription with a timid air, and begs a + little more regularity, if possible, in the forwarding of the paper. There + is a faith that nothing shakes. So, when one of these innocents falls + among our hungry band, it is something terrible. He is surrounded, hemmed + in, an attempt is made to secure his name for one of our lists, and, in + case of resistance, if he wishes to subscribe neither to the Paoli + monument nor to Corsican railways, these gentlemen deal him what they call—my + pen blushes to write it—what they call, I say, “the drayman thrust.” + </p> + <p> + Here is what it is: We always keep at the office a parcel prepared in + advance, a well-corded case which arrives nominally from the railway + station while the visitor is present. “There are twenty francs carriage to + pay,” says the one among us who brings the thing in. (Twenty francs, + sometimes thirty, according to the appearance of the patient.) Every one + then begins to ransack his pockets: “Twenty francs carriage! but I haven’t + got it.” “Nor I either. What a nuisance!” Some one runs to the cash-till. + Closed. The cashier is summoned. He is out. And the gruff voice of the + drayman, growing impatient in the antechamber: “Come, come, make haste.” + (It is generally I who play the drayman, because of the strength of my + vocal organs.) What is to be done now? Return the parcel? That will vex + the governor. “Gentlemen, I beg, will you permit me,” ventures the + innocent victim, opening his purse. “Ah, monsieur, indeed—” He hands + over his twenty francs, he is ushered to the door, and, as soon as his + heel is turned, we all divide the fruit of the crime, laughing like + highway robbers. + </p> + <p> + Fie! M. Passajon. At your age, such a trade! Eh! <i>mon Dieu!</i> I well + know it. I know that I should do myself more honour in quitting this evil + place. But what! You would have me then renounce the hope of getting back + anything of all I have put in here. No, it is not possible. There is + urgent need on the contrary that I should remain, that I should be on the + watch, always at hand, ready to profit by any windfall, if one should + come. Oh, for example, I swear it upon my ribbon, upon my thirty years of + academical service, if ever an affair like this of the Nabob allow me to + recover my disbursements, I shall not wait another single minute. I shall + quickly be off to look after my pretty vineyard down yonder, near Monbars, + cured forever of my thoughts of speculation. But, alas! that is a very + chimerical hope. Exhausted, used up, known as we are upon the Paris + market, with our stocks which are no longer quoted on the Bourse, our + bonds which are near being waste paper, so many lies, so many debts, and + the hole that grows ever deeper and deeper. (We owe at this moment three + million five hundred thousand francs. It is not, however, those three + millions that worry us. On the contrary, it is they that keep us going; + but we have with the <i>concierge</i> a little bill of a hundred and + twenty-five francs for postage-stamps, a month’s gas bill, and other + little things. That is the really terrible part of it.) and we are + expected to believe that a man, a great financier like this Nabob, even + though he were just arrived from the Congo, or dropped from the moon the + same day, would be fool enough to put his money into a concern like this. + Come! Is the thing possible? You may tell that story to the marines, my + dear governor. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0007" id="link2H_4_0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + A DEBUT IN SOCIETY + </h2> + <p> + “M. BERNARD JANSOULET!” + </p> + <p> + The plebeian name, accentuated proudly by the liveried servants, and + announced in a resounding voice, sounded in Jenkins’s drawing-rooms like + the clash of a cymbal, one of those gongs which, in fairy pieces at the + theatre, are the prelude to fantastic apparitions. The light of the + chandeliers paled, every eye sparkled at the dazzling perspective of the + treasures of the Orient, of the showers of the sequins and of pearls + evoked by the magic syllables of that name, yesterday unknown. + </p> + <p> + He, it was he himself, the Nabob, the rich among the rich, the great + Parisian curiosity, spiced by that relish of adventure which is so + pleasing to the surfeited crowd. All heads turned, all conversations were + interrupted; near the door there was a pushing among the guests, a crush + as upon the quay of a seaport to witness the entry of a felucca laden with + gold. + </p> + <p> + Jenkins himself, so hospitable, so self-possessed, who was standing in the + first drawing-room receiving his guests, abruptly quitted the group of men + about him and hurried to place himself at the head of the galleons bearing + down upon the guest. + </p> + <p> + “You are a thousand times, a thousand times kind. Mme. Jenkins will be so + glad, so proud.—Come, let me conduct you!” + </p> + <p> + And in his haste, in his vainglorious delight, he bore Jansoulet off so + quickly that the latter had no time to present his companion, Paul de + Gery, to whom he was giving his first entry into society. The young man + welcomed this forgetfulness. He slipped away among the crowd of black + dress-coats constantly pressed back at each new arrival, buried himself in + it, seized by that wild terror which is experienced by every young man + from the country at his first introduction to a Paris drawing-room, + especially when he is intelligent and refined, and beneath his breastplate + of linen does not wear like a coat of mail the imperturbable assurance of + a boor. + </p> + <p> + All you, Parisians of Paris, who from the age of sixteen, in your first + dress-coat and with opera-hat against your thigh, have been wont to air + your adolescence at receptions of all kinds, you know nothing of that + anguish, compounded of vanity, of timidity, of recollections of romantic + readings, which keeps a young man from opening his mouth and so makes him + awkward and for a whole night pins him down to one spot in a doorway, and + converts him into a piece of furniture in a recess, a poor, wandering and + wretched being, incapable of manifesting his existence save by an + occasional change of place, dying of thirst rather than approach the + buffet, and going away without having uttered a word, unless perhaps to + stammer out one of those incoherent pieces of foolishness which he + remembers for months, and which make him, at night, as he thinks of them, + heave an “Ah!” of raging shame, with head buried in the pillow. + </p> + <p> + Paul de Gery was that martyr. Away yonder in his country home he had + always lived a very retired existence with an old, pious, and gloomy aunt, + up to the time when the law-student, destined in the first instance to the + career in which his father had left an excellent reputation, had found + himself introduced to a few judges’ drawing-rooms, ancient, melancholy + dwellings with faded pier-glasses, where he used to go to make a fourth at + whist with venerable shadows. Jenkins’s evening party was therefore a <i>debut</i> + for this provincial, of whom his very ignorance and his southern + adaptability made immediately an observer. + </p> + <p> + From the place where he stood, he watched the curious defile of Jenkins’s + guests which had not yet come to an end at midnight; all the clients of + the fashionable physician; the fine flower of society; a strong political + and financial element, bankers, deputies, a few artists, all the jaded + people of Parisian “high life,” wan-faced, with glittering eyes, saturated + with arsenic like greedy mice, but with appetite insatiable for poison and + for life. The drawing-room being thrown open, the vast antechamber of + which the doors had been removed to be seen, laden with flowers at the + sides, the principal staircase of the mansion, over which swept, now + shaken out to their full extent, the long trains, whose silky weight + seemed to give a backward pull to the undraped busts of the women in the + course of that pretty ascending movement which brought them into view, + little by little, till the complete flower of their splendour was reached. + The couples as they gained the top seemed to be making an entry on the + stage of a theatre; and that was twice true, since each person left on the + last step the contracted eyebrows, the lines that marked preoccupation, + the wearied air, his vexations, his sorrows, to display instead a + contented face, a gay smile over the reposeful harmony of the features. + The men exchanged honest shakes of the hand, exhibitions of fraternal + good-feeling; the women, preoccupied with themselves, as they stood making + little caracoling movements, with trembling graces, play of eyes and + shoulders, murmured, without meaning anything, a few words of greeting: + </p> + <p> + “Thank you—oh, thank you! How kind you are!” + </p> + <p> + Then the couples would separate, for evening parties are no longer the + gatherings of charming wits, in which feminine delicacy was wont to compel + the character, the lofty knowledge, the genius, even, of men to bow + graciously before it; but these overcrowded routs, in which the women, who + alone are seated, chattering together like slaves in a harem, have no + longer aught save the pleasure of being beautiful or appearing so. De + Gery, after having wandered through the doctor’s library, the + conservatory, the billiard-room, where men were smoking, weary of serious + and dry conversation which seemed to him out of place amid surroundings so + decorated and in the brief hour of pleasure—some one had asked him + carelessly, without looking at him, what the Bourse was doing that day—made + his way again towards the door of the large drawing-room, which was + barricaded by a wedged crowd of dress-coats, a sea of heads bent sideways + and peering past each other, watching. + </p> + <p> + This salon was a spacious apartment richly furnished with the artistic + taste which distinguished the host and hostess. There were a few old + pictures on the light background of the hangings. A monumental + chimneypiece, adorned by a handsome group in marble—“The Seasons,” + by Sebastien Ruys—around which long green stems cut in lacework or + of a goffered bronze-like rigidity curved back towards the mirror as + towards the limpidity of a clear lake. On the low seats, women in close + groups, so close as almost to blend the delicate colours of their + toilettes, forming an immense basket of living flowers, above which there + floated the gleam of bare shoulders, of hair sown with diamonds that + looked like drops of water on the dark women, glittering reflections on + the fair, and the same heady perfume, the same confused and gentle hum, + compact of vibrant warmth and intangible wings, which, in summer, caresses + a garden-bed through all its flowering time. Now and then a little laugh, + rising into this luminous atmosphere, a quicker inspiration in the air, + which would cause aigrettes and curls to tremble, a handsome profile to + stand out suddenly. Such was the aspect of the drawing-room. + </p> + <p> + A few men were present, a very small number, however, and all of them + personages of note, laden with years and decorations. They were standing + about near couches, leaning over the backs of chairs, with that air of + condescension which men assume when speaking to children. But in the + peaceful buzz of these conversations, one voice rang out piercing and + brazen, that of the Nabob, who was tranquilly performing his evolutions + across this social hothouse with the assurance bestowed upon him by his + immense wealth, and a certain contempt for women which he had brought back + from the East. + </p> + <p> + At that moment, comfortably installed on a settee, his big hands in yellow + gloves crossed carelessly one over the other, he was talking with a very + handsome woman, whose original physiognomy—much vitality coupled + with severe features—stood out pale among the pretty faces about + her, just as her dress, all white, classic in its folds and following + closely the lines of her supple figure, contrasted with toilettes that + were richer, but among which none had that air of daring simplicity. From + his corner, de Gery admired the low and smooth forehead beneath its fringe + of downward combed hair, the well-opened eyes, deep blue in colour, an + abysmal blue, the mouth which ceased to smile only to relax its pure curve + into an expression that was weary and drooping. In sum, the rather haughty + mien of an exceptional being. + </p> + <p> + Somebody near him mentioned her name—Felicia Ruys. At once he + understood the rare attraction of this young girl, the continuer of her + father’s genius, whose budding celebrity had penetrated even to the remote + country district where he had lived, with the aureole of reputed beauty. + While he stood gazing at her, admiring her least gestures, a little + perplexed by the enigma of her handsome countenance, he heard whispers + behind him. + </p> + <p> + “But see how pleasant she is with the Nabob! If the duke were to come in!” + </p> + <p> + “The Duc de Mora is coming?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly. It is for him that the party is given; to bring about a + meeting between him and Jansoulet.” + </p> + <p> + “And you think that the duke and Mlle. Ruys——” + </p> + <p> + “Where have you come from? It is an intrigue known to all Paris. The + affair dates from the last exhibition, for which she did a bust of him.” + </p> + <p> + “And the duchess?” + </p> + <p> + “Bah! it is not her first experience of that sort. Ah! there is Mme. + Jenkins going to sing.” + </p> + <p> + There was a movement in the drawing-room, a more violent swaying of the + crowd near the door, and conversation ceased for a moment. Paul de Gery + breathed. What he had just heard had oppressed his heart. He felt himself + reached, soiled, by this mud flung in handfuls over the ideal which in his + own mind he had formed of that splendid adolescence, matured by the sun of + Art to so penetrating a charm. He moved away a little, changed his place. + He feared to hear again some whispered infamy. Mme. Jenkins’s voice did + him good, a voice that was famous in the drawing-rooms of Paris and that + in spite of all its magnificence had nothing theatrical about it, but + seemed an emotional utterance vibrating over unstudied sonorities. The + singer, a woman of forty or forty-five, had splendid ash-blond hair, + delicate, rather nerveless features, a striking expression of kindness. + Still good-looking, she was dressed in the costly taste of a woman who has + not given up the thought of pleasing. Indeed, she was far from having + given it up. Married a dozen years ago, for a second time, to the doctor, + they seemed still to be at the first months of their dual happiness. While + she sang a popular Russian melody, savage and sweet like the smile of a + Slav, Jenkins was ingenuously proud, without seeking to dissimulate the + fact, his broad face all beaming; and she, each time that she bent her + head as she regained her breath, glanced in his direction a timid, + affectionate smile that flew to seek him over the unfolded music. And + then, when she had finished amid an admiring and delighted murmur, it was + touching to notice how discreetly she gave her husband’s hand a secret + squeeze, as though to secure to themselves a corner of private bliss in + the midst of her great triumph. Young de Gery was feeling cheered by the + spectacle of this happy couple, when quite close to him a voice murmured—it + was not, however, the same voice that he had heard just before: + </p> + <p> + “You know what they say—that the Jenkinses are not married.” + </p> + <p> + “How absurd!” + </p> + <p> + “I assure you. It would seem that there is a veritable Mme. Jenkins + somewhere, but not the lady we know. Besides, have you noticed——” + </p> + <p> + The dialogue continued in an undertone. Mme. Jenkins advanced, bowing, + smiling, while the doctor, stopping a tray that was being borne round, + brought her a glass of claret with the alacrity of a mother, an + impresario, a lover. Calumny, calumny, ineffaceable defilement! To the + provincial young man, Jenkins’s attentions now seemed exaggerated. He + fancied that there was something affected about them, something + deliberate, and, too, in the words of thanks which she addressed in a low + voice to her husband he thought he could detect a timidity, a + submissiveness, not consonant with the dignity of the legitimate spouse, + glad and proud in an assured happiness. “But Society is a hideous affair!” + said de Gery to himself, dismayed and with cold hands. The smiles around + him had upon him the effect of hypocritical grimaces. He felt shame and + disgust. Then suddenly revolting: “Come, it is not possible.” And, as + though in reply to this exclamation, behind him the scandalous tongue + resumed in an easy tone: “After all, you know, I cannot vouch for its + truth. I am only repeating what I have heard. But look! Baroness + Hemerlingue. He gets all Paris, this Jenkins.” + </p> + <p> + The baroness moved forward on the arm of the doctor, who had rushed to + meet her, and appeared, despite all his control of his facial muscles, a + little ill at ease and discomfited. He had thought, the good Jenkins, to + profit by the opportunity afforded by this evening party to bring about a + reconciliation between his friend Hemerlingue and his friend Jansoulet, + who were his two most wealthy clients and embarrassed him greatly with + their intestine feud. The Nabob was perfectly willing. He bore his old + chum no grudge. Their quarrel had arisen out of Hemerlingue’s marriage + with one of the favourites of the last Bey. “A story with a woman at the + bottom of it, in short,” said Jansoulet, and a story which he would have + been glad to see come to an end, since his exuberant nature found every + antipathy oppressive. But it seemed that the baron was not anxious for any + settlement of their differences; for, notwithstanding his word passed to + Jenkins, his wife arrived alone, to the Irishman’s great chagrin. + </p> + <p> + She was a tall, slender, frail person, with eyebrows that suggested a + bird’s plumes, and a youthful intimidated manner. She was aged about + thirty but looked twenty, and wore a head-dress of grasses and ears of + corn drooping over very black hair peppered with diamonds. With her long + lashes against cheeks white with that transparency of complexion which + characterizes women who have long led a cloistered existence, and a little + ill at ease in her Parisian clothes, she resembled less one who had + formerly been a woman of the harem than a nun who, having renounced her + vows, was returning into the world. + </p> + <p> + An air of piety, of extreme devoutness, in her bearing, a certain + ecclesiastical trick of walking with downcast eyes, elbows close to the + body, hands crossed, mannerisms which she had acquired in the very + religious atmosphere in which she had lived since her conversion and her + recent baptism, completed this resemblance. And you can imagine with what + ardent curiosity that worldly assembly regarded this quondam odalisk + turned fervent Catholic, as she advanced escorted by a man with a livid + countenance like that of some spectacled sacristan, Maitre le Merquier, + deputy of Lyons, Hemerlingue’s man of business, who accompanied the + baroness whenever the baron “was somewhat indisposed,” as on this evening. + </p> + <p> + At their entry into the second drawing-room, the Nabob came straight up to + her, expecting to see appear in her wake the puffy face of his old comrade + to whom it was agreed that he should go and offer his hand. The baroness + perceived him and became still whiter. A flash as of steel shot from + beneath her long lashes. Her nostrils dilated, quivered, and, as Jansoulet + bowed, she quickened her step, carrying her head high and erect, and + letting fall from her thin lips an Arab word which no one else could + understand but of which the Nabob himself well appreciated the insult; + for, as he raised his head again, his tanned face was of the colour of + baked earthenware as it leaves the furnace. He stood for an instant + without moving, his huge fists clinched, his mouth swollen with anger. + Jenkins came up and rejoined him, and de Gery, who had followed the whole + scene from a distance, saw them talking together with preoccupied air. + </p> + <p> + The thing was a failure. The reconciliation, so cunningly planned, would + not take place. Hemerlingue did not desire it. If only the duke, now, did + not fail to keep his engagement with them. This reflection was prompted by + the lateness of the hour. The Wauters who was to sing the music of the + Night from the <i>Enchanted Flute</i>, on her way home from her theatre, + had just entered, completely muffled in her hoods of lace. + </p> + <p> + And there was still no sign of the Minister. + </p> + <p> + It was, however, a clearly understood, definitely promised arrangement. + Monpavon was to call for him at the club. From time to time the good + Jenkins glanced at his watch, while applauding absently the bouquet of + brilliant notes which the Wauters was pouring forth from her fairy lips, a + bouquet costing three thousand francs, useless, like the other expenses of + the evening, if the duke did not come. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly the double doors were flung wide open: + </p> + <p> + “His excellency M. le Duc de Mora!” + </p> + <p> + A long quiver of excitement welcomed him, a respectful curiosity that + ranged itself in two rows instead of the mobbing crowd that flocked on the + heels of the Nabob. + </p> + <p> + None better than he knew how to bear himself in society, to walk across a + drawing-room with gravity, to endow futile things with an air of + seriousness, and to treat serious things lightly; that was the epitome of + his attitude in life, a paradoxical distinction. Still handsome, despite + his fifty-six years, with a comeliness compounded of elegance and + proportion, wherein the grace of the dandy was fortified by something + military about the figure and the haughtiness of the face; he wore with + striking effect his black dress-coat, on which, to do honour to Jenkins, + he had pinned a few of his decorations, which he was in the habit of never + wearing except upon official occasions. The reflection from the linen, + from the white cravat, the dull silver of the decorations, the smoothness + of the thin hair now turning gray, enhanced the pallor of the features, + more bloodless than all the bloodless faces that were to be seen that + evening in the Irishman’s house. + </p> + <p> + He had led such a terrible life! Politics, play under all its forms, from + the Stock Exchange to the baccarat-table, and that reputation of a man + successful with women which had to be maintained at all costs. Oh, this + man was a true client of Jenkins; and this princely visit, he owed it in + good sooth to the inventor of those mysterious pills which gave that fire + to his glance, to his whole being that energy so vibrating and + extraordinary. + </p> + <p> + “My dear duke, permit me to——” + </p> + <p> + Monpavon, with solemn air and a great sense of his own importance, + endeavoured to effect the presentation so long looked forward to; but his + excellency, preoccupied, seemed not to hear, continued his progress + towards the large drawing-room, borne along by one of those electric + currents that break the social monotony. On his passage, and while he + greeted the handsome Mme. Jenkins, the ladies bent forward a little with + seductive airs, a soft laugh, concerned to please. But he noticed only one + among them, Felicia, on her feet in the centre of a group of men, + discussing some question as though she were in her studio, and watching + the duke come towards her, while tranquilly taking her sherbet. She + greeted him with perfect naturalness. Those near had discreetly retired to + a little distance. There seemed to exist between them, however, + notwithstanding what de Gery had overheard with regard to their presumed + relations, nothing more than a quite intellectual intimacy, a playful + familiarity. + </p> + <p> + “I called at your house, mademoiselle, on my way to the Bois.” + </p> + <p> + “I was informed of it. You even went into the studio.” + </p> + <p> + “And I saw the famous group—my group.” + </p> + <p> + “Well?” + </p> + <p> + “It is very fine. The hound runs as though he were mad. The fox scampers + away admirably. Only I did not quite understand. You had told me that it + was our own story, yours and mine.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, there! Try. It is an apologue that I read in—You do not read + Rabelais, M. le Duc?” + </p> + <p> + “My faith, no. He is too coarse.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, well, his works were the text-book of my first reading lessons. Very + badly brought up, you know. Oh, exceedingly badly. My apologue, then, is + taken from Rabelais. Here it is: Bacchus created a wonderful fox, + impossible to capture. Vulcan, on the other hand, gave a dog of his own + creation the power to catch every animal that he should pursue. ‘Now,’ as + my author has it, ‘it happened that the two met.’ You see what a wild and + interminable chase. It seems to me, my dear duke, that destiny has in the + same way brought us together, endowed with conflicting attributes; you who + have received from the gods the gift of reaching all hearts, I whose heart + will never be made prisoner.” + </p> + <p> + She spoke these words, looking him full in the face, almost laughing, but + sheathed and erect in the white tunic which seemed to defend her person + against the liberties of his thought. He, the conqueror, the irresistible, + had never before met one of this audacious and headstrong breed. He + brought to bear upon her, therefore, all the magnetic currents of his + seductiveness, while around them the rising murmur of the <i>fete</i>, the + soft laughter, the rustle of satins and the rattling of pearls formed the + accompaniment to this duet of mundane passion and juvenile irony. He + resumed after a minute’s pause: + </p> + <p> + “But how did the gods escape from that awkward situation?” + </p> + <p> + “By turning the two runners into stone.” + </p> + <p> + “Upon my word,” said he, “that is a solution which I do not at all accept. + I defy the gods ever to petrify my heart.” + </p> + <p> + A fiery gleam shot for a moment from his eyes, extinguished immediately by + the thought that people were observing them. + </p> + <p> + In effect, people were observing them intently, but no one with so much + curiosity as Jenkins, who wandered round them a little way off, impatient + and fidgety, as though he were annoyed with Felicia for taking private + possession of the important personage of the assembly. The young girl + laughingly called the duke’s attention to it. + </p> + <p> + “People will say that I am monopolizing you.” + </p> + <p> + She pointed out to him Monpavon waiting, standing near the Nabob who, from + afar, was gazing at his excellency with the beseeching, submissive eyes of + a big, good-tempered mastiff. The Minister of State then remembered the + object which had brought him. He bowed to the young girl and returned to + Monpavon, who was able at last to present to him “his honourable friend, + M. Bernard Jansoulet.” His excellency bowed slightly, the <i>parvenu</i> + humbled himself lower than the earth, then they chatted for a moment. + </p> + <p> + A group curious to observe. Jansoulet, tall, strong, with an air of the + people about him, a sunburned skin, his broad back arched as though made + round for ever by the low bowings of Oriental courtiery, his big, short + hands splitting his light gloves, his excessive gestures, his southern + exuberance chopping up his words like a puncher. The other, a high-bred + gentleman, a man of the world, elegance itself, easy in his least + gestures, though these, however, were extremely rare, carelessly letting + fall unfinished sentences, relieving by a half smile the gravity of his + face, concealing beneath an imperturbable politeness the deep contempt + which he had for man and woman; and it was in that contempt that his + strength lay. In an American drawing-room the antithesis would have been + less violent. The Nabob’s millions would have re-established the balance + and even made the scale lean to his side. But Paris does not yet place + money above every other force, and to realize this, it was sufficient to + observe the great contractor wriggling amiably before the great gentleman + and casting under his feet, like the courtier’s cloak of ermine, the dense + vanity of a newly rich man. + </p> + <p> + From the corner in which he had ensconced himself, de Gery was watching + the scene with interest, knowing what importance his friend attached to + this introduction, when the same chance which all through the evening had + so cruelly been giving the lie to the native simplicity of his + inexperience, caused him to distinguish a short dialogue near him, amid + that buzz of many conversations through which each hears just the word + that interests him. + </p> + <p> + “It is indeed the least that Monpavon can do, to enable him to make a few + good acquaintances. He has introduced him to so many bad ones. You know + that he has just put Paganetti and all his gang on his shoulders.” + </p> + <p> + “Poor fellow! But they will devour him.” + </p> + <p> + “Bah! It is only fair that he should be made to disgorge a little. He has + been such a thief himself away yonder among the Turks.” + </p> + <p> + “Really, do you believe that is so?” + </p> + <p> + “Do I believe it? I am in possession of very precise details on the point + which I have from Baron Hemerlingue, the banker, who effected the last + Tunisian loan. He knows some stories about the Nabob, he does. Just + imagine.” + </p> + <p> + And the infamous gossip commenced. For fifteen years Jansoulet had + exploited the former Bey in a scandalous fashion. Names of purveyors were + cited and tricks wonderful in their assurance, their effrontery; for + instance, the story of a musical frigate, yes, a veritable musical box, + like a dining-room picture, which he had bought for two hundred thousand + francs and sold again for ten millions; the cost price of a throne sold at + three millions for which the account could be seen in the books of an + upholsterer of the Faubourg Saint-Honore did not exceed a hundred thousand + francs; and the funniest part of it was that, the Bey having changed his + mind, the royal seat, fallen into disgrace before it had even been + unpacked, remained still nailed in its packing-case at the custom-house in + Tripoli. + </p> + <p> + Next, beyond these wildly extravagant commissions on the provision of the + least toy, they laid stress upon accusations more grave but no less + certain, since they also sprang from the same source. It seemed there was, + adjoining the seraglio, a harem of European women admirably equipped for + his Highness by the Nabob, who must have been a good judge in such + matters, having practised formerly, in Paris—before his departure + for the East—the most singular trades: vendor of theatre-tickets, + manager of a low dancing-hall, and of an establishment more ill-famed + still. And the whispering ended in a smothered laugh, the coarse laugh of + men chatting among themselves. + </p> + <p> + The first impulse of the young man from the country, as he heard these + infamous calumnies, was to turn round and exclaim: + </p> + <p> + “You lie!” + </p> + <p> + A few hours earlier he would have done it without hesitating; but, since + he had been there, he had learned distrust, scepticism. He contained + himself, therefore, and listened to the end, motionless in the same place, + having deep down within himself an unavowed desire to become further + acquainted with the man whose service he had entered. As for the Nabob, + the completely unconscious subject of this hideous recital, tranquilly + installed in a small room to which its blue hangings and two shaded lamps + gave a reposeful air, he was playing his game of <i>ecarte</i> with the + Duc de Mora. + </p> + <p> + O magic of Fortune’s argosy! The son of the dealer in old iron seated + alone at a card-table opposite the first personage of the Empire! + Jansoulet could scarcely believe the Venetian mirror in which were + reflected his own bright countenance and the august head with its parting + down the middle. Accordingly, in order to show his appreciation of this + great honour, he sought to lose decently as many thousand-franc notes as + possible, feeling himself even so the winner of the game, and quite proud + to see his money pass into those aristocratic hands, whose least gesture + he studied as they dealt, cut, or held the cards. + </p> + <p> + A circle had formed around them, always keeping a distance, however, the + ten paces exacted for the salutation of a prince; it was the public there + to witness this triumph in which the Nabob was bearing his part as in a + dream, intoxicated by those fairy harmonies rather faint in the distance, + whose songs that reached him in snatches as over the resonant obstacle of + a pool, the perfume of flowers that seem to become full blown in so + singular fashion towards the end of Parisian balls, when the late hour + that confuses all notions of time and the weariness of the sleepless + nights communicate to brains soothed in a more nervous atmosphere, as it + were, a dizzy sense of enjoyment. The robust nature of Jansoulet, + civilized savage that he was, was more sensitive than another to these + unknown subtleties, and he had need of all his strength to refrain from + manifesting by some glad hurrah, by some untimely effusion of gestures and + speech, the impulse of physical gaiety which pervaded his whole being, as + happens to those great mountain dogs that are thrown into epileptic fits + of madness by the inhaling of a drop of some essence. + </p> + <p> + “The sky is clear, the pavement dry. If you like, my dear boy, we will + send the carriage away and return on foot,” said Jansoulet to his + companion as they left Jenkins’s house. + </p> + <p> + De Gery accepted with eagerness. He felt that he required to walk, to + shake off in the open air the infamies and the lies of that comedy of + society which had left his heart cold and oppressed, with all his + life-blood driven to his temples where he could hear the swollen veins + beating. He staggered as he walked, like those unfortunate persons who, + having been operated upon for cataract, in the terror of sight regained, + do not dare put one foot before the other. But with what a brutal hand the + operation had been performed! So that great artist with the glorious name, + that pure and untamed beauty the sight alone of whom had troubled him like + an apparition, was only a courtesan. Mme. Jenkins, that stately woman, of + bearing at once so proud and so gentle, had no real title to the name. + That illustrious man of science with the open countenance, and a manner so + pleasant in his welcome, had the impudence thus to parade a disgraceful + concubinage. And Paris suspected it, but that did not prevent it from + running to their parties. And, finally, Jansoulet, so kind, so generous, + for whom he felt in his heart so much gratitude, he knew him to be fallen + into the hands of a gang of brigands, a brigand himself and well worthy of + the conspiracy organized to cause him to disgorge his millions. + </p> + <p> + Was it possible, and how much of it was he to be obliged to believe? + </p> + <p> + A glance which he threw sideways at the Nabob, whose immense person almost + blocked the pavement, revealed to him suddenly in that walk oppressed by + the weight of his wealth, a something low and vulgar which he had not + previously remarked. Yes, he was indeed the adventurer from the south, + moulded of the slimy clay that covers the quays of Marseilles, trodden + down by all the nomads and wanderers of a seaport. Kind, generous, + forsooth! as harlots are, or thieves. And the gold, flowing in torrents + through that tainted and luxurious world, splashing the very walls, seemed + to him now to be loaded with all the dross, all the filth of its impure + and muddy source. There remained, then, for him, de Gery, but one thing to + do, to go away, to quit with all possible speed this situation in which he + risked the compromising of his good name, the one heritage from his + father. Doubtless. But the two little brothers down yonder in the country. + Who would pay for their board and lodging? Who would keep up the modest + home miraculously brought into being once more by the handsome salary of + the eldest son, the head of the family? Those words, “head of the family,” + plunged him immediately into one of those internal combats in which + interest and conscience struggled for the mastery—the one brutal, + substantial, attacking vigorously with straight thrusts, the other + elusive, breaking away by subtle disengagements—while the worthy + Jansoulet, unconscious cause of the conflict, walked with long strides + close by his young friend, inhaling the fresh air with delight at the end + of his lighted cigar. + </p> + <p> + Never had he felt it such a happiness to be alive; and this evening party + at Jenkins’s, which had been his own first real entry into society as well + as de Gery’s, had left with him an impression of porticoes erected as for + a triumph, of an eagerly assembled crowd, of flowers thrown on his path. + So true is it that things only exist through the eyes that observe them. + What a success! the duke, as he took leave of him inviting him to come to + see his picture gallery, which meant the doors of Mora House opened to him + within a week. Felicia Ruys consenting to do his bust, so that at the next + exhibition the son of the nail-dealer would have his portrait in marble by + the same great artist who had signed that of the Minister of State. Was it + not the satisfaction of all his childish vanities? + </p> + <p> + And each pondering his own thoughts, sombre or glad, they continued to + walk shoulder to shoulder, absorbed and so absent in mind that the Place + Vendome, silent and bathed in a blue and chilly light, rang under their + steps before a word had been uttered between them. + </p> + <p> + “Already?” said the Nabob. “I should not at all have minded walking a + little longer. What do you say?” And while they strolled two or three + times around the square, he gave vent in spasmodic bursts to the immense + joy which filled him. + </p> + <p> + “How pleasant the air is! How one can breathe! Thunder of God! I would not + have missed this evening’s party for a hundred thousand francs. What a + worthy soul that Jenkins is! Do you like Felicia Ruys’s style of beauty? + For my part, I dote on it. And the duke, what a great gentleman! so + simple, so kind. A fine place, Paris, is it not, my son?” + </p> + <p> + “It is too complicated for me. It frightens me,” answered Paul de Gery in + a hollow voice. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes, I understand,” replied the other with an adorable fatuity. “You + are not yet accustomed to it; but, never mind, one quickly becomes so. See + how after a single month I find myself at my ease.” + </p> + <p> + “That is because it is not your first visit to Paris. You have lived + here.” + </p> + <p> + “I? Never in my life. Who told you that?” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed! I thought—” answered the young man; and immediately, a host + of reflections crowding into his mind: + </p> + <p> + “What, then, have you done to this Baron Hemerlingue? It is a hatred to + the death between you.” + </p> + <p> + For a moment the Nabob was taken aback. That name of Hemerlingue, thrown + suddenly into his glee, recalled to him the one annoying episode of the + evening. + </p> + <p> + “To him as to the others,” said he in a saddened voice, “I have never done + anything save good. We began together in poverty. We made progress and + prospered side by side. Whenever he wished to try a flight on his own + wings, I always aided and supported him to the best of my ability. It was + I who during ten consecutive years secured for him the contracts for the + fleet and the army; almost his whole fortune came from that source. Then + one fine morning this slow-blooded imbecile of a Bernese goes crazy over + an odalisk whom the mother of the Bey had caused to be expelled from the + harem. The hussy was beautiful and ambitious, she made him marry her, and + naturally, after this brilliant match, Hemerlingue was obliged to leave + Tunis. Somebody had persuaded him to believe that I was urging the Bey to + close the principality to him. It was not true. On the contrary, I + obtained from his Highness permission for Hemerlingue’s son—a child + by his first wife—to remain in Tunis in order to look after their + suspended interests, while the father came to Paris to found his + banking-house. Moreover, I have been well rewarded for my kindness. When, + at the death of my poor Ahmed, the Mouchir, his brother, ascended the + throne, the Hemerlingues, restored to favour, never ceased to work for my + undoing with the new master. The Bey still keeps on good terms with me; + but my credit is shaken. Well, in spite of that, in spite of all the + shabby tricks that Hemerlingue has played me, that he plays me still, I + was ready this evening to hold out my hand to him. Not only does the + blackguard refuse it, but he causes me to be insulted by his wife, a + savage and evil-disposed creature, who does not pardon me for always + having declined to receive her in Tunis. Do you know what she called me + just now as she passed me? ‘Thief and son of a dog.’ As free in her + language as that, the odalisk—That is to say, that if I did not know + my Hemerlingue to be as cowardly as he is fat—After all, bah! let + them say what they like. I snap my fingers at them. What can they do + against me? Ruin me with the Bey? That is a matter of indifference to me. + There is nothing any longer for me to do in Tunis, and I shall withdraw + myself from the place altogether as soon as possible. There is only one + town, one country in the world, and that is Paris—Paris welcoming, + hospitable, not prudish, where every intelligent man may find space to do + great things. And I, now, do you see, de Gery, I want to do great things. + I have had enough of mercantile life. For twenty years I have worked for + money; to-day I am greedy of glory, of consideration, of fame. I want to + be somebody in the history of my country, and that will be easy for me. + With my immense fortune, my knowledge of men and of affairs, the things I + know I have here in my head, nothing is beyond my reach and I aspire to + everything. Believe me, therefore, my dear boy, never leave me”—one + would have said that he was replying to the secret thought of his young + companion—“remain faithfully on board my ship. The masts are firm; I + have my bunkers full of coal. I swear to you that we shall go far, and + quickly, <i>nom d’un sort</i>!” + </p> + <p> + The ingenuous southerner thus poured out his projects into the night with + many expressive gestures, and from time to time, as they walked rapidly to + and fro in the vast and deserted square, majestically surrounded by its + silent and closed palaces, he raised his head towards the man of bronze on + the column, as though taking to witness that great upstart whose presence + in the midst of Paris authorizes all ambitions, endows every chimera with + probability. + </p> + <p> + There is in young people a warmth of heart, a need of enthusiasm which is + awakened by the least touch. As the Nabob talked, de Gery felt his + suspicion take wing and all his sympathy return, together with a shade of + pity. No, very certainly this man was not a rascal, but a poor, illuded + being whose fortune had gone to his head like a wine too heavy for a + stomach long accustomed to water. Alone in the midst of Paris, surrounded + by enemies and people ready to take advantage of him, Jansoulet made upon + him the impression of a man on foot laden with gold passing through some + evil-haunted wood, in the dark and unarmed. And he reflected that it would + be well for the <i>protege</i> to watch, without seeming to do so, over + the protector, to become the discerning Telemachus of the blind Mentor, to + point out to him the quagmires, to defend him against the highwaymen, to + aid him, in a word, in his combats amid all that swarm of nocturnal + ambuscades which he felt were prowling ferociously around the Nabob and + his millions. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0008" id="link2H_4_0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE JOYEUSE FAMILY + </h2> + <p> + Every morning of the year, at exactly eight o’clock, a new and almost + tenantless house in a remote quarter of Paris, echoed to cries, calls, + merry laughter, ringing clear in the desert of the staircase: + </p> + <p> + “Father, don’t forget my music.” + </p> + <p> + “Father, my crochet wool.” + </p> + <p> + “Father, bring us some rolls.” + </p> + <p> + And the voice of the father calling from below: + </p> + <p> + “Yaia, bring me down my portfolio, please.” + </p> + <p> + “There you are, you see! He has forgotten his portfolio.” + </p> + <p> + And there would be a glad scurry from top to bottom of the house, a + running of all those pretty faces confused by sleep, of all those heads + with disordered hair which the owners made tidy as they ran, until the + moment when, leaning over the baluster, half a dozen girls bade loud + good-bye to a little, old gentleman, neat and well-groomed, whose reddish + face and short profile disappeared at length in the spiral perspective of + the stairs. M. Joyeuse had departed for his office. At once the whole + band, escaped from their cage, would rush quickly upstairs again to the + fourth floor, and, the door having been opened, group themselves at an + open casement to gain one last glimpse of their father. The little man + used to turn round, kisses were exchanged across the distance, then the + windows were closed, the new and tenantless house became quiet again, + except for the posters dancing their wild saraband in the wind of the + unfinished street, as if made gay, they also, by all these proceedings. A + moment later the photographer on the fifth floor would descend to hang at + the door his showcase, always the same, in which was to be seen the old + gentleman in a white tie surrounded by his daughters in various groups; he + went upstairs again in his turn, and the calm which succeeded immediately + upon this little morning uproar left one to imagine that the “father” and + his young ladies had re-entered the case of photographs, where they + remained smiling and motionless until evening. + </p> + <p> + From the Rue Saint-Ferdinand to the establishment of Hemerlingue & + Son, his employers, M. Joyeuse had a good three-quarters of an hour’s + journey. He walked with head erect and straight, as though he had feared + to disarrange the smart knot of the cravat tied by his daughters, or his + hat put on by them, and when the eldest, ever anxious and prudent, just as + he went out raised his coat-collar to protect him against the harsh gusts + of the wind that blew round the street corner, even if the temperature + were that of a hothouse M. Joyeuse would not lower it again until he + reached the office, like the lover who, quitting his mistress’s arms, + dares not to move for fear of losing the intoxicating perfume. + </p> + <p> + A widower for some years, this worthy man lived only for his children, + thought only of them, went through life surrounded by those fair little + heads that fluttered around him confusedly as in a picture of the + Assumption. All his desires, all his projects, bore reference to “those + young ladies,” returned to them without ceasing, sometimes after long + circuits, for M. Joyeuse—this was connected no doubt with the fact + that he possessed a short neck and a small figure whereof his turbulent + blood made the circuit in a moment—was a man of fecund and + astonishing imagination. In his brain the ideas performed their evolutions + with the rapidity of hollow straws around a sieve. At the office, figures + kept his steady attention by reason of their positive quality; but, + outside, his mind took its revenge upon that inexorable occupation. The + activity of the walk, the habit that led him by a route where he was + familiar with the least incidents, allowed full liberty to his imaginative + faculties. He invented at these times extraordinary adventures, enough of + them to crank out a score of the serial stories that appear in the + newspapers. + </p> + <p> + If, for example, M. Joyeuse, as he went up the Faubourg Saint-Honore, on + the right-hand footwalk—he always took that one—noticed a + heavy laundry-cart going along at a quick pace, driven by a woman from the + country with a child perched on a bundle of linen and leaning over + somewhat: + </p> + <p> + “The child!” the terrified old fellow would cry. “Have a care of the + child!” + </p> + <p> + His voice would be lost in the noise of the wheels and his warning among + the secrets of Providence. The cart passed. He would follow it for a + moment with his eye, then resume his walk; but the drama begun in his mind + would continue to unfold itself there, with a thousand catastrophes. The + child had fallen. The wheels were about to pass over him. M. Joyeuse + dashed forward, saved the little creature on the very brink of + destruction; the pole of the cart, however, struck himself full in the + chest and he fell bathed in blood. Then he would see himself borne to some + chemists’ shop through the crowd that had collected. He was placed in an + ambulance, carried to his own house, and then suddenly he would hear the + piercing cry of his daughters, his well-beloved daughters, when they + beheld him in this condition. And that agonized cry touched his heart so + deeply, he would hear it so distinctly, so realistically: “Papa, my dear + papa,” that he would himself utter it aloud in the street, to the great + astonishment of the passers-by, in a hoarse voice which would wake him + from his fictitious nightmare. + </p> + <p> + Will you have another sample of this prodigious imagination? It is + raining, freezing; wretched weather. M. Joyeuse has taken the omnibus to + go to his office. Finding himself seated opposite a sort of colossus, with + the head of a brute and formidable biceps, M. Joyeuse, himself very small, + very puny, with his portfolio on his knees, draws in his legs in order to + make room for the enormous columns which support the monumental body of + his neighbour. As the vehicle moves on and as the rain beats on the + windows, M. Joyeuse falls into reverie. And suddenly the colossus + opposite, whose face is kind after all, is very much surprised to see the + little man change colour, look at him and grind his teeth, look at him + with ferocious eyes, an assassin’s eyes. Yes, with the eyes of a veritable + assassin, for at that moment M. Joyeuse is dreaming a terrible dream. He + sees one of his daughters sitting there opposite him, by the side of this + giant brute, and the wretch has put his arm round her waist under her + cape. + </p> + <p> + “Remove your hand, sir!” M. Joyeuse has already said twice over. The other + has only sneered. Now he wishes to kiss Elise. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, rascal!” + </p> + <p> + Too feeble to defend his daughter, M. Joyeuse, foaming with rage, draws + his knife from his pocket, stabs the insolent fellow full in the breast, + and with head high goes off, strong in the right of an outraged father, to + make his declaration at the nearest police-station. + </p> + <p> + “I have just killed a man in an omnibus!” At the sound of his own voice + actually uttering these sinister words, but not in the police-station, the + poor fellow wakes us, guesses from the bewildered manner of the passengers + that he must have spoken the words aloud, and very quickly takes advantage + of the conductor’s call, “Saint-Philippe—Pantheon—Bastille—” + to alight, feeling greatly confused, amid general stupefaction. + </p> + <p> + This imagination constantly on the stretch, gave to M. Joyeuse a singular + physiognomy, feverish and worn, in strong contrast with the general + correct appearance of a subordinate clerk which he presented. In one day + he lived so many passionate existences. The race is more numerous than one + thinks of these waking dreamers, in whom a too restricted fate compresses + forces unemployed and heroic faculties. Dreaming is the safety-valve + through which all those expend themselves with terrible ebullitions, as of + the vapour of a furnace and floating images that are forthwith dissipated + into air. From these visions some return radiant, others exhausted and + discouraged, as they find themselves once more on the every-day level. M. + Joyeuse was of these latter, rising without ceasing to heights whence a + man cannot but re-descend, somewhat bruised by the velocity of the + transit. + </p> + <p> + Now, one morning that our “visionary” had left his house at his habitual + hour, and under the usual circumstances, he began at the turning of the + Rue Saint-Ferdinand one of his little private romances. As the end of the + year was at hand, perhaps it was the hammer-strokes on a wooden hut which + was being erected in the neighbouring timber-yard that caused his thoughts + to turn to “presents—New Year’s Day.” And immediately the word + bounty implanted itself in his mind as the first landmark of a marvelous + story. In the month of December all persons in Hemerlingue’s service + received double pay, and you know that in small households there are + founded on windfalls of this kind a thousand projects, ambitious or kind, + presents to be made, a piece of furniture to be replaced, a little sum of + money to be saved in a drawer against the unforeseen. + </p> + <p> + In simple fact, M. Joyeuse was not rich. His wife, a Mlle. de + Saint-Armand, tormented with ideas of greatness and society, had set this + little clerk’s household on a ruinous footing, and though since her death + three years had passed during which Bonne Maman had managed the + housekeeping with so much wisdom, they had not yet been able to save + anything, so heavy had proved the burden of the past. Suddenly it occurred + to the good fellow that this year the bounty would be larger by reason of + the increase of work which had been caused by the Tunisian loan. The loan + constituted a very fine stroke of business for the firm, too fine even, + for M. Joyeuse had permitted himself to remark in the office that this + time “Hemerlingue & Son had shaved the Turk a little too close.” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly, yes, the bounty will be doubled,” reflected the visionary, as + he walked; and already he saw himself, a month thence, mounting with his + comrades, for the New Year’s visit, the little staircase that led to + Hemerlingue’s apartment. He announced the good news to them; then he + detained M. Joyeuse for a few words in private. And, behold, that master + habitually so cold in his manner, sheathed in his yellow fat as in a bale + of raw silk, became affectionate, paternal, communicative. He desired to + know how many daughters Joyeuse had. + </p> + <p> + “I have three; no, I should say, four, M. le Baron. I always confuse them. + The eldest is such a sensible girl.” + </p> + <p> + Further he wished to know their ages. + </p> + <p> + “Aline is twenty, M. le Baron. She is the eldest. Then we have Elise, who + is preparing for the examination which she must pass when she is eighteen. + Henriette, who is fourteen, and Zara or Yaia who is only twelve.” + </p> + <p> + That pet name of Yaia intensely amused M. le Baron, who inquired next what + were the resources of this interesting family. + </p> + <p> + “My salary, M. le Baron; nothing else. I had a little money put aside, but + my poor wife’s illness, the education of the girls—” + </p> + <p> + “What you are earning is not sufficient, my dear Joyeuse. I raise your + salary to a thousand francs a month.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, M. le Baron, it is too much.” + </p> + <p> + But although he had uttered this last sentence aloud, in the ear of a + policeman who watched with a mistrustful eye the little man pass, + gesticulating and nodding his head, the poor visionary awoke not. With + admiration he saw himself returning home, announcing the news to his + daughters, taking them to the theatre in the evening in celebration of the + happy day. <i>Dieu!</i> how pretty they looked in the front of their box, + the Demoiselles Joyeuse, what a bouquet of rosy faces! And then, the next + day, the two eldest asked in marriage by—Impossible to determine by + whom, for M. Joyeuse had just suddenly found himself once more beneath the + arch of the Hemerlingue establishment, before the swing-door surmounted by + a “counting-house” in letters of gold. + </p> + <p> + “I shall always be the same, it seems,” said he to himself, laughing a + little and passing his hand over his forehead, on which the perspiration + stood in drops. + </p> + <p> + In a good humour as the result of this pleasant fancy and at the sight of + the fire crackling in the suite of parquet-floored offices, with their + screens of iron trellis-work and their air of secrecy in the cold light of + the ground floor, where one could count the pieces of gold without + dazzling his eyes, M. Joyeuse gave a gay greeting to the other clerks and + slipped on his working coat and his black velvet cap. Suddenly, some one + whistled from upstairs, and the cashier, applying his ear to the tube, + heard the oily and gelatinous voice of Hemerlingue, the sole and veritable + Hemerlingue—the other, the son, was always absent—asking for + M. Joyeuse. + </p> + <p> + What! Could the dream be continuing? + </p> + <p> + He was conscious of a great agitation; took the little inside staircase + which he had seen himself ascending just before so bravely, and found + himself in the banker’s private room, a narrow apartment, with a very high + ceiling, furnished only with green curtains and enormous leather easy + chairs of a size proportioned to the terrific bulk of the head of the + house. He was there, seated at his desk which his belly prevented him from + approaching very closely, obese, ill-shaped, and so yellow that his round + face with its hooked nose, the head of a fat and sick owl, suggested as it + were a light at the end of the solemn and gloomy room. A rich Moorish + merchant grown mouldy in the damp of his little court-yard. Beneath his + heavy eyelids, raised with an effort, his glance glittered for a second + when the accountant entered; he signed to him to approach, and slowly, + coldly, pausing to take breath between his sentences, instead of “M. + Joyeuse, how many daughters have you?” he said this: + </p> + <p> + “Joyeuse, you have allowed yourself to criticise in the office our last + operations in the Tunis market. Useless to defend yourself. Your remarks + have been reported to me word for word. And as I am unable to admit them + from the mouth of one in my service, I give you notice that dating from + the end of this month you cease to be a member of my establishment.” + </p> + <p> + A wave of blood mounted to the accountant’s face, fell back, returned + again, bringing each time a confused whizzing into his ears, into his + brain a tumult of thoughts and images. + </p> + <p> + His daughters! + </p> + <p> + What was to become of them? + </p> + <p> + Employment is so hard to find at that period of the year. + </p> + <p> + Poverty appeared before his eyes and also the vision of an unfortunate man + falling at Hemerlingue’s feet, supplicating him, threatening him, + springing at his throat in an access of despairing rage. All this + agitation passed over his features like a gust of wind which throws the + surface of a lake into ripples, fashioning there all manner of mobile + whirlpools; but he remained mute, standing in the same place, and upon the + master’s intimation that he could withdraw, went down with tottering step + to resume his work in the counting-house. + </p> + <p> + In the evening when he went home to the Rue Saint-Ferdinand, M. Joyeuse + told his daughters nothing. He did not dare. The idea of darkening that + radiant gaiety which was the life of the house, of making dull with heavy + tears those pretty bright eyes, was insupportable to him. Timorous, too, + and weak, he was of those who always say, “Let us wait till to-morrow.” He + waited therefore before speaking, at first until the month of November + should be ended, deluding himself with the vague hope that Hemerlingue + might change his mind, as though he did not know that will as of some + mollusk flabby and tenacious upon its ingot of gold. Then when his salary + had been paid up and another accountant had taken his place before the + high desk at which he had stood for so long, he hoped to find something + else quickly and repair his misfortune before being obliged to confess it. + </p> + <p> + Every morning he feigned to start for the office, allowed himself to be + equipped and accompanied to the door as usual, his huge leather portfolio + all ready for the evening’s numerous commissions. Although he would forget + some of them on purpose because of the approaching and so problematical + end of the month, he did not lack time now to execute them. He had his day + to himself, the whole of an interminable day which he spent in rushing + about Paris in search for an employment. People gave him addresses, + excellent recommendations. But in that terrible month of December, so cold + and with such short hours of daylight, bringing with it so many expenses + and preoccupations, employees need to take patience and employers also. + Each man tries to end the year in peace, postponing to the month of + January, to that great leap of time towards a fresh halting-place, any + changes, ameliorations, attempts at a new life. + </p> + <p> + In every house where M. Joyeuse presented himself, he beheld faces + suddenly grow cold as soon as he explained the object of his visit. + </p> + <p> + “What! You are no longer with Hemerlingue & Son? How is that?” + </p> + <p> + He would explain the matter as best he could through a caprice of the head + of the firm, the ferocious Hemerlingue whom Paris knew; but he was + conscious of a coldness, a mistrust in the uniform reply which he + received: “Call on us again after the holidays.” And, timid as he was to + begin with, he reached a point at which he could no longer bring himself + to call on any one, a point at which he could walk past the same door a + score of times and never have crossed its threshold at all had it not been + for the thought of his daughters. This alone pushed him along by the + shoulders, put heart in his legs, despatched him in the course of the same + day to the opposite extremities of Paris, to very vague addresses given to + him by comrades, to a great manufactory of animal black at Aubervilliers, + where he was made to return for nothing three days in succession. + </p> + <p> + Oh, the journeys in the rain, in the frost, the closed doors, the master + who is out or engaged, the promises given and immediately withdrawn, the + hopes deceived, the enervation of hours of waiting, the humiliations + reserved for every man who asks for work, as though it were a shameful + thing to lack it. M. Joyeuse knew all these melancholy things and, too, + the good will that tires and grows discouraged before the persistence of + evil fortune. And you may imagine how the hard martyrdom of “the man who + seeks a place” was rendered tenfold more bitter by the mirages of his + imagination, by those chimeras which rose before him from the Paris + pavements as over them he journeyed along on foot in every direction. + </p> + <p> + For a month he was one of those woeful puppets, talking in monologue, + gesticulating on the footways, from whom every chance collision with the + crowd wrests an exclamation as of one walking in his sleep. “I told you + so,” or “I have no doubt of it, sir.” One passes by, almost one would + laugh, but one is seized with pity before the unconsciousness of those + unhappy men possessed by a fixed idea, blind whom the dream leads, drawn + along by an invisible leash. The terrible thing was that after those long, + cruel days of inaction and fatigue, when M. Joyeuse returned home, he had + perforce to play the comedy of the man returning from his work, to recount + the incidents of the day, the things he had heard, the gossip of the + office with which he had been always wont to entertain his girls. + </p> + <p> + In humble homes there is always a name which comes up more often than all + others, which is invoked in days of stress, which is mingled with every + wish, with every hope, even with the games of the children, penetrated as + they are with its importance, a name which sustains in the dwelling the + part of a sub-Providence, or rather of a household divinity, familiar and + supernatural. In the Joyeuse family, it was Hemerlingue, always + Hemerlingue, returning ten times, twenty times a day in the conversation + of the girls, who associated it with all their plans, with the most + intimate details of their feminine ambitions. “If Hemerlingue would only——” + “All that depends on Hemerlingue.” And nothing could be more charming than + the familiarity with which these young people spoke of that enormously + wealthy man whom they had never seen. + </p> + <p> + They would ask for news of him. Had their father spoken to him? Was he in + a good temper? And to think that we all of us, whatever our position, + however humble we be, however weighed down by fate, we have always beneath + us unfortunate beings more humble, yet more weighed down, for whom we are + great, for whom we are as gods, and in our quality of gods, indifferent, + disdainful, or cruel. + </p> + <p> + One imagines the torture of M. Joyeuse, obliged to invent stories and + anecdotes about the wretch who had so ruthlessly discharged him after ten + years of good service. He played his little comedy, however, so well as + completely to deceive everybody. Only one thing had been remarked, and + that was that father when he came home in the evening always sat down to + table with a great appetite. I believe it! Since he lost his place the + poor man had gone without his luncheon. + </p> + <p> + The days passed. M. Joyeuse found nothing. Yes, one place as accountant in + the Territorial Bank, which he refused, however, knowing too much about + banking operations, about all the corners and innermost recesses of the + financial Bohemia in general, and of the Territorial bank in particular, + to set foot in that den. + </p> + <p> + “But,” said Passajon to him—for it was Passajon who, meeting the + honest fellow and hearing that he was out of employment, had suggested to + him that he should come to Paganetti’s—“but since I repeat that it + is serious. We have lots of money. They pay one. I have been paid. See how + prosperous I look.” + </p> + <p> + In effect, the old office porter had a new livery, and beneath his tunic + with its buttons of silver-gilt his paunch protruded, majestic. All the + same M. Joyeuse had not allowed himself to be tempted, even after + Passajon, opening wide his shallow-set blue eyes, had whispered into his + ear with emphasis these words rich in promises: + </p> + <p> + “The Nabob is in the concern.” + </p> + <p> + Even after that, M. Joyeuse had had the courage to say No. Was it not + better to die of hunger than to enter a fraudulent house of which he might + perhaps one day be summoned to report upon the books in the courts? + </p> + <p> + So he continued to wander; but, discouraged, he no longer sought employ. + As it was necessary that he should absent himself from home, he used to + linger over the stalls on the quays, lean for hours on the parapets, watch + the water flow and the unladening of the vessels. He became one of those + idlers whom one sees in the first rank whenever a crowd collects in the + street, taking shelter from the rain under the porches, warming himself at + the stoves where, in the open air, the tar of the asphalters reeks, + sinking on a bench of some boulevard when his legs could no longer carry + him. + </p> + <p> + To do nothing! What a fine way of making life seem longer! + </p> + <p> + On certain days, however, when M. Joyeuse was too weary or the sky too + unkind, he would wait at the end of the street until his daughters should + have closed their window again and, returning to the house, keeping close + to the walls, would mount the staircase very quickly, pass before his own + door holding his breath, and take refuge in the apartment of the + photographer Andre Maranne, who, aware of his ill-fortune, always gave him + that kindly welcome which the poor have for each other. Clients are rare + so near the outskirts of the town. He used to remain long hours in the + studio, talking in a very low voice, reading at his friend’s side, + listening to the rain on the window-panes or the wind that blew as it does + on the open sea, shaking the old doors and the window-sashes below in the + wood-sheds. Beneath him he could hear sounds well known and full of charm, + songs that escaped in the satisfaction of work accomplished, assembled + laughter, the pianoforte lesson being given by Bonne Maman, the tic-tac of + the metronome, all the delicious household stir that pleased his heart. He + lived with his darlings, who certainly never could have guessed that they + had him so near them. + </p> + <p> + Once, when Maranne was out, M. Joyeuse keeping faithful watch over the + studio and its new apparatus, heard two little strokes given on the + ceiling of the apartment below, two separate, very distinct strokes, then + a cautious pattering of fingers, like the scamper of mice. The + friendliness of the photographer with his neighbours sufficiently + authorized these communications like those of prisoners. But what did they + mean? How reply to what seemed a call? Quite at hazard, he repeated the + two strokes, the light tapping, and the conversation ended there. On the + return of Andre Maranne he learned the explanation of the incident. It was + very simple. Sometimes, in the course of the day, the young ladies below, + who only saw their neighbour in the evening, would inquire how things were + going with him, whether any clients were coming in. The signal he had + heard meant, “Is business good to-day?” And M. Joyeuse had replied, + obeying only an instinct without any knowledge, “Fairly well for the + season.” Although young Maranne was very red as he made this affirmation, + M. Joyeuse accepted his word at once. Only this idea of frequent + communications between the two households made him afraid for the secrecy + of his position, and from that time forward he cut himself off from what + he used to call his “artistic days.” Moreover, the moment was approaching + when he would no longer be able to conceal his misfortune, the end of the + month arriving, complicated by the ending of the year. + </p> + <p> + Paris was already assuming the holiday appearance which it wears during + the last weeks of December. In the way of national or popular rejoicing it + had little left but that. The follies of the Carnival died with Gavarni, + the religious festivals with their peals of bells which one scarcely hears + amid the noise of the streets confine themselves within their heavy + church-doors, the 15th of August has never been anything but the Saint + Charles-the-Great of the barracks; but Paris has maintained its observance + of New Year’s Day. + </p> + <p> + From the beginning of December an immense childishness begins to permeate + the town. You see hand-carts pass laden with gilded drums, wooden horses, + playthings by the dozen. In the industrial quarters, from top to bottom of + the five-storied houses, the old private residences still standing in that + low-lying district, where the warehouses have such lofty ceilings and + majestic double doors, the nights are passed in the making up of gauze + flowers and spangles, in the gumming of labels upon satin-lined boxes, in + sorting, marking, packing, the thousand details of the toy, that great + branch of commerce on which Paris places the seal of its elegance. There + is a smell about of new wood, of fresh paint, glossy varnish, and, in the + dust of garrets, on the wretched stairways where the poor leave behind + them all the dirt through which they have passed, there lie shavings of + rosewood, scraps of satin and velvet, bits of tinsel, all the <i>debris</i> + of the luxury whose end is to dazzle the eyes of children. Then the + shop-windows are decorated. Behind the panes of clear glass the gilt of + presentation-books rises like a glittering wave under the gaslight, the + stuffs of various and tempting colours display their brittle and heavy + folds, while the young ladies behind the counter, with their hair dressed + tapering to a point and with a ribbon beneath their collar, tie up the + article, little finger in the air, or fill bags of moire into which the + sweets fall like a rain of pearls. + </p> + <p> + But, over against this kind of well-to-do business, established in its own + house, warmed, withdrawn behind its rich shop-front, there is installed + the improvised commerce of those wooden huts, open to the wind of the + streets, of which the double row gives to the boulevards the aspect of + some foreign mall. It is in these that you find the true interest and the + poetry of New Year’s gifts. Sumptuous in the district of the Madeleine, + well-to-do towards the Boulevard Saint-Denis, of more “popular” order as + you ascend to the Bastille, these little sheds adapt themselves according + to their public, calculate their chances of success by the more or less + well-lined purses of the passers-by. Among these, there are set up + portable tables, laden with trifling objects, miracles of the Parisian + trade that deals in such small things, constructed out of nothing, frail + and delicate, and which the wind of fashion sometimes sweeps forward in + its great rush by reason of their very triviality. Finally, along the + curbs of the footways, lost in the defile of the carriage traffic which + grazes their wandering path, the orange-girls complete this peripatetic + commerce, heaping up the sun-coloured fruit beneath their lanterns of red + paper, crying “La Valence” amid the fog, the tumult, the excessive haste + which Paris displays at the ending of its year. + </p> + <p> + Ordinarily, M. Joyeuse was accustomed to make one of the busy crowd which + goes and comes with the jingle of money in its pocket and parcels in every + hand. He would wander about with Bonne Maman at his side on the lookout + for New Year’s presents for his girls, stop before the booths of the small + dealers, who are accustomed to do much business and excited by the + appearance of the least important customer, have based upon this short + season hopes of extraordinary profits. And there would be colloquies, + reflections, an interminable perplexity to know what to select in that + little complex brain of his, always ahead of the present instant and of + the occupation of the moment. + </p> + <p> + This year, alas! nothing of that kind. He wandered sadly through the town + in its rejoicing, time seeming to hang all the heavier for the activity + around him, jostled, hustled, as all are who stand obstructing the way of + active folk, his heart beating with a perpetual fear, for Bonne Maman for + some days past, in conversation with him at table, had been making + significant allusions with regard to the New Year’s presents. Consequently + he avoided finding himself alone with her and had forbidden her to come to + meet him at the office at closing-time. But in spite of all his efforts he + knew the moment was drawing near when concealment would be impossible and + his grievous secret be unveiled. Was, then, a very formidable person, + Bonne Maman, that M. Joyeuse should stand in such fear of her? By no + means. A little stern, that was all, with a pretty smile that instantly + forgave one. But M. Joyeuse was a coward, timid from his birth; twenty + years of housekeeping with a masterful wife, “a member of the nobility,” + having made him a slave for ever, like those convicts who, after their + imprisonment is over, have to undergo a period of surveillance. And for + him this meant all his life. + </p> + <p> + One evening the Joyeuse family was gathered in the little drawing-room, + last relic of its splendour, still containing two upholstered chairs, many + crochet decorations, a piano, two lamps crowned with little green shades, + and a what-not covered with bric-a-brac. + </p> + <p> + True family life exists in humble homes. + </p> + <p> + For the sake of economy, there was lighted for the whole household but one + fire and a single lamp, around which the occupations and amusements of all + were grouped. A fine big family lamp, whose old painted shade—night + scenes pierced with shining dots—had been the astonishment and the + joy of every one of those young girls in her early childhood. Issuing + softly from the shadow of the room, four young heads were bent forward, + fair or dark, smiling or intent, into that intimate and warm circle of + light which illumined them as far as the eyes, seemed to feed the fire of + their glance, to shelter them, protect them, preserve them from the black + cold blowing outside, from phantoms, from snares, from miseries and + terrors, from all the sinister things that a winter night in Paris brings + forth in the remoteness of its quiet suburbs. + </p> + <p> + Thus, drawn close together in a small room at the top of the lonely house, + in the warmth, the security of their comfortable home, the Joyeuse + household seems like a nest right at the top of a lofty tree. The girls + sew, read, chat a little. A leap of the lamp-flame, a crackling of fire, + is what you may hear, with from time to time an exclamation from M. + Joyeuse, a little removed from his small circle, lost in the shadow where + he hides his anxious brow and all the extravagance of his imagination. + Just now he is imagining that in the distress into which he finds himself + driven beyond possibility of escape, in that absolute necessity of + confessing everything to his children, this evening, at latest to-morrow, + an unhoped-for succour may come to him. Hemerlingue, seized with remorse, + sends to him, as to all those who took part in the work connected with the + Tunis loan, his December gratuity. A tall footman brings it: “On behalf of + M. le Baron.” The visionary says those words aloud. The pretty faces turn + towards him; the girls laugh, move their chairs, and the poor fellow + awakes suddenly to reality. + </p> + <p> + Oh, how angry he is with himself now for his delay in confessing all, for + that false security which he has maintained around him and which he will + have to destroy at a blow. What need had he, too, to criticise that Tunis + loan? At this moment he even reproaches himself for not having accepted a + place in the Territorial Bank. Had he the right to refuse? Ah, the sorry + head of a family, without strength to keep or to defend the happiness of + his own! And, glancing at the pretty group within the circle of the + lamp-shade, whose reposeful aspect forms so great a contrast with his own + internal agitation, he is seized by a remorse so violent for the weakness + of his soul that his secret rises to his lips, is about to escape him in a + burst of sobs, when the ring of a bell—no chimera, that—gives + them all a start and arrests him at the very moment when he was about to + speak. + </p> + <p> + Whoever could it be, coming at this hour? They had lived in retirement + since the mother’s death and saw almost nobody. Andre Maranne, when he + came down to spend a few minutes with them, tapped like a familiar friend. + Profound silence in the drawing-room, long colloquy on the landing. + Finally, the old servant—she had been in the family as long as the + lamp—showed in a young man, complete stranger, who stopped, struck + with admiration at the charming picture of the four darlings gathered + round the table. This made his entrance timid, rather awkward. However, he + explained clearly the object of his visit. He had been referred to M. + Joyeuse by an honest fellow of his acquaintance, old Passajon, to take + lessons in bookkeeping. One of his friends happened to be engaged in large + financial transactions in connection with an important joint-stock + company. He wished to be of service to him in keeping an eye on the + employment of the capital, the straightforwardness of the operations; but + he was a lawyer, little familiar with financial methods, with the terms + employed in banking. Could not M. Joyeuse in the course of a few months, + with three or four lessons a week— + </p> + <p> + “Yes, indeed, sir, yes, indeed,” stammered the father, quite overcome by + this unlooked-for piece of good luck. “Assuredly I can undertake, in a few + months, to qualify you for such auditing work. Where shall we have our + lessons?” + </p> + <p> + “Here, at your own house, if you are agreeable,” said the young man, “for + I am anxious that no one should know that I am working at the subject. But + I shall be grieved if I always frighten everybody away as I have this + evening.” + </p> + <p> + For, at the first words of the visitor, the four curly heads had + disappeared, with little whisperings, and with rustlings of skirts, and + the drawing-room looked very bare now that the big circle of white light + was empty. + </p> + <p> + Always quick to take offence, where his daughters were concerned, M. + Joyeuse replied that “the young girls were accustomed to retire early + every evening,” and the words were spoken in a brief, dry tone which very + clearly signified: “Let us talk of our lessons, young man, if you please.” + Days were then fixed, free hours in the evening. + </p> + <p> + As for the terms, they would be whatever monsieur desired. + </p> + <p> + Monsieur mentioned a sum. + </p> + <p> + The accountant became quite red. It was the amount he used to earn at + Hemerlingue’s. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no, that is too much.” + </p> + <p> + But the other was no longer listening. He was seeking for words, as though + he had something very difficult to say, and suddenly, making up his mind + to it: + </p> + <p> + “Here is your first month’s salary.” + </p> + <p> + “But, monsieur—” + </p> + <p> + The young man insisted. He was a stranger. It was only fair that he should + pay in advance. Evidently, Passajon has told his secret. + </p> + <p> + M. Joyeuse understood, and in a low voice said, “Thank you, oh, thank + you,” so deeply moved that words failed him. Life! it meant life, several + months of life, the time to turn round, to find another place. His + darlings would want for nothing. They would have their New Year’s + presents. Oh, the mercy of Providence! + </p> + <p> + “Till Wednesday, then, M. Joyeuse.” + </p> + <p> + “Till Wednesday, monsieur—” + </p> + <p> + “De Gery—Paul de Gery.” + </p> + <p> + And they separated, both delighted, fascinated, the one by the apparition + of this unexpected saviour, the other by the adorable picture of which he + had only a glimpse, all those young girls grouped round the table covered + with books, exercise-books, and skeins of wool, with an air of purity, of + industrious honesty. This was a new Paris for Paul de Gery, a courageous, + home-like Paris, very different from that which he already knew, a Paris + of which the writers of stories in the newspapers and the reporters never + speak, and which recalled to him his own country home, with an additional + charm, that charm which the struggle and tumult around lend to the + tranquil, secured refuge. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0009" id="link2H_4_0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + FELICIA RUYS + </h2> + <p> + “And your son, Jenkins. What are you doing with him? Why does one never + see him now at your house? He seemed a nice fellow.” + </p> + <p> + As she spoke in that tone of disdainful bluntness which she almost always + used when speaking to the Irishman, Felicia was at work on the bust of the + Nabob which she had just commenced, posing her model, laying down and + taking up the boasting-tool, quickly wiping her fingers with the little + sponge, while the light and peace of a fine Sunday afternoon fell on the + top-light of the studio. Felicia “received” every Sunday, if to receive + were to leave her door open to allow people to come in, go out, sit down + for a moment, without stirring from her work or even interrupting the + course of a discussion to welcome the new arrivals. They were artists, + with refined heads and luxuriant beards; here and there you might see + among them white-haired friends of Ruys, her father; then there were + society men, bankers, stock-brokers, and a few young men about town, come + to see the handsome girl rather than her sculpture, in order to be able to + say at the club in the evening, “I was at Felicia’s to-day.” Among them + was Paul de Gery, silent, absorbed in an admiration which each day sunk + into his heart a little more deeply, trying to understand the beautiful + sphinx draped in purple cashmere and ecru lace, who worked away bravely + amid her clay, a burnisher’s apron reaching nearly to her neck, allowing + her small, proud head to emerge with those transparent tones, those gleams + of veiled radiance of which the sense, the inspiration bring the blood to + the cheek as they pass. Paul always remembered what had been said of her + in his presence, endeavoured to form an opinion for himself, doubted, + worried himself, and was charmed, vowing to himself each time that he + would come no more and never missing a Sunday. A little woman with gray, + powdered hair was always there in the same place, her pink face like a + pastel somewhat worn by years, who, in the discrete light of a recess, + smiled sweetly, with her hands lying idly on her knees, motionless as a + fakir. Jenkins, amiable, with his open face, his black eyes, and his + apostolical manner, moved on from one group to another, liked and known by + all. He did not miss, either, one of Felicia’s days; and, indeed, he + showed his patience in this, all the snubs of his hostess both as artist + and pretty woman being reserved for him alone. Without appearing to notice + them, with ever the same smiling, indulgent serenity, he continued to pay + his visits to the daughter of his old Ruys, of the man whom he had so + loved and tended to his last moments. + </p> + <p> + This time, however, the question which Felicia had just addressed to him + respecting his son appeared extremely disagreeable to him, and it was with + a frown and a real expression of annoyance that he replied: “Ma foi! I + know no more than yourself what he is doing. He has quite deserted us. He + was bored at home. He cares only for his Bohemia.” + </p> + <p> + Felicia gave a jump that made them all start, and with flashing eyes and + nostrils that quivered, said: + </p> + <p> + “That is too absurd. Ah, now, come, Jenkins. What do you mean by Bohemia? + A charming word, by-the-bye, and one that ought to recall long days of + wandering in the sun, halts in woody nooks, all the freshness of fruits + gathered by the open road. But since you have made a reproach of the name, + to whom do you apply it? To a few poor devils with long hair, in love with + liberty in rags, who starve to death in a fifth-floor garret, or seek + rhymes under tiles through which the rain filters; to those madmen, + growing more and more rare, who, from horror of the customary, the + traditional, the stupidity of life, have put their feet together and made + a jump into freedom? Come, that is too old a story. It is the Bohemia of + Murger, with the workhouse at the end, terror of children, boon of + parents, Red Riding-Hood eaten by the wolf. It was worn out a long time + ago, that story. Nowadays, you know well that artists are the most regular + people in their habits on earth, that they earn money, pay their debts, + and contrive to look like the first man you may meet on the street. The + true Bohemians exist, however; they are the backbone of our society; but + it is in your own world especially that they are to be found. <i>Parbleu!</i> + They bear no external stamp and nobody distrusts them; but, so far as + uncertainty, want of substantial foundation in their lives is concerned, + they have nothing to wish for from those whom they call so disdainfully + ‘irregulars.’ Ah! if we knew how much turpitude, what fantastic or + abominable stories, a black evening-coat, the most correct of your hideous + modern garments, can mask. Why, see, Jenkins, the other evening at your + house I was amusing myself by counting them—all these society + adventurers—” + </p> + <p> + The little old lady, pink and powdered, put in gently from her place: + </p> + <p> + “Felicia, take care!” + </p> + <p> + But she continued, without listening: + </p> + <p> + “What do you call Monpavon, doctor? And Bois l’Hery? And de Mora himself? + And—” She was going to say “and the Nabob?” but stopped herself. + </p> + <p> + “And how many others! Oh, truly, you may well speak of Bohemia with + contempt. But your fashionable doctor’s clientele, oh sublime Jenkins, + consists of that very thing alone. The Bohemia of commerce, of finance, of + politics; unclassed people, shady people of all castes, and the higher one + ascends the more you find of them, because rank gives impunity and wealth + can pay for rude silence.” + </p> + <p> + She spoke with a hard tone, greatly excited, with lip curled by a savage + disdain. The doctor forced a laugh and assumed a light, condescending + tone, repeating: “Ah, feather-brain, feather-brain!” And his glance, + anxious and beseeching, sought the Nabob, as though to demand his pardon + for all these paradoxical impertinences. + </p> + <p> + But Jansoulet, far from appearing vexed, was so proud of posing to this + handsome artist, so appreciative of the honour that was being done him, + that he nodded his head approvingly. + </p> + <p> + “She is right, Jenkins,” said he at last, “she is right. It is we who are + the true Bohemia. Take me, for example; take Hemerlingue, two of the men + who handle the most money in Paris. When I think of the point from which + we started, of all the trades through which we have made our way. + Hemerlingue, once keeper of a regimental canteen. I, who have carried + sacks of wheat in the docks of Marseilles for my living. And the strokes + of luck by which our fortunes have been built up—as all fortunes, + moreover, in these times are built up. Go to the Bourse between three and + five. But, pardon, mademoiselle, see, through my absurd habit of + gesticulating when I speak, I have lost the pose. Come, is this right?” + </p> + <p> + “It is useless,” said Felicia. A true daughter of an artist, of a genial + and dissolute artist, thoroughly in the romantic tradition, as was + Sebastien Ruys. She had never known her mother. She was the fruit of one + of those transient loves which used to enter suddenly into the bachelor + life of the sculptor like swallows into a dovecote of which the door is + always open, and who leave it again because no nest can be built there. + </p> + <p> + This time, the lady, ere she flew away, had left to the great artist, then + about forty years of age, a beautiful child whom he had brought up, and + who became the joy and the passion of his life. Until she was thirteen, + Felicia had lived in her father’s house, introducing a childish and tender + note into that studio full of idlers, models, and huge greyhounds lying at + full length on the couches. There was a corner reserved for her, for her + attempts at sculpture, a whole miniature equipment, a tripod, wax, etc., + and old Ruys would cry to those who entered: + </p> + <p> + “Don’t go there. Don’t move anything. That is the little one’s corner.” + </p> + <p> + So it came about that at ten years old she scarcely knew how to read and + could handle the boasting-tool with marvellous skill. Ruys would have + liked to keep always with him this child whom he never felt to be in the + way, a member of the great brotherhood from her earliest years. But it was + pitiful to see the little girl amid the free behaviour of the frequenters + of the house, the constant going and coming of the models, the discussions + of an art, so to speak, entirely physical, and even at the noisy Sunday + dinner-parties, sitting among five or six women, to all of whom her father + spoke familiarly. There were actresses, dancers or singers, who, after + dinner, would settle themselves down to smoke with their elbows on the + table absorbed in the indecent stories so keenly relished by their host. + Fortunately, childhood is protected by a resisting candour, by an enamel + over which all impurities glide. Felicia became noisy, turbulent, + ill-behaved, but without being touched by all that passed over her little + soul so near to earth. + </p> + <p> + Every year, in the summer, she used to go to stay for a few days with her + godmother, Constance Crenmitz, the elder Crenmitz, whom all Europe had + called for so long “the famous dancer,” and who lived in peaceful + retirement at Fontainebleau. + </p> + <p> + The arrival of the “little demon” used to bring into the life of the old + dancer an element of disturbance from which she had afterward all the year + to recover. The frights which the child caused her by her daring in + climbing, in jumping, in riding, all the passionate transports of her wild + nature made this visit for her at once delicious and terrible; delicious + for she adored Felicia, the one family tie that remained to this poor old + salamander in retirement after thirty years of fluttering in the glare of + the footlights; terrible, for the demon used to upset without pity the + dancer’s house, decorated, carefully ordered, perfumed, like her + dressing-room at the opera, and adorned with a museum of souvenirs dated + from every stage in the world. + </p> + <p> + Constance Crenmitz was the one feminine element in Felicia’s childhood. + Futile, limited in mind, she had at least a coquettish taste, agile + fingers that knew how to sew, to embroider, to arrange things, to leave in + every corner of the room their dainty and individual trace. She alone + undertook to train up the wild young plant, and to awaken with discretion + the woman in this strange being on whom cloaks, furs, everything elegant + devised by fashion, seemed to take odd folds or look curiously awkward. + </p> + <p> + It was the dancer again—in what neglect must she not have lived, + this little Ruys—who, triumphing over the paternal selfishness, + insisted upon a necessary separation, when Felicia was twelve or thirteen + years old; and she took also the responsibility of finding a suitable + school, a school which she selected of deliberate purpose, very + comfortable and very respectable, right at the upper end of an airy road, + occupying a roomy, old-world building surrounded by high walls, big trees, + a sort of convent without its constraint and contempt of serious studies. + </p> + <p> + Much work, on the contrary, was done in Mme. Belin’s institution, where + the pupils went out only on the principal holidays and had no + communication with outside except the visits of relatives on Thursdays, in + a little garden planted with flowering shrubs or in the immense parlour + with carved and gilded work over its doors. The first entry of Felicia + into this almost monastic house caused indeed a certain sensation; her + dresses chosen by the Austrian dancer, her hair curling to her waist, her + gait free and easy like a boy’s, aroused some hostility, but she was a + Parisian and could adapt herself quickly to every situation and to all + surroundings. A few days later, she looked better than any one in the + little black apron, to which the more coquettish were wont to hang their + watches, the straight skirt—a severe and hard prescription at that + period when fashion expanded women’s figures with an infinity of flounces—the + regulation coiffure, two plaits tied rather low, at the neck, after the + manner of the Roman peasants. + </p> + <p> + Strange to say, the regularity of the classes, their calm exactitude, + suited Felicia’s nature, intelligent and quick, in which the taste for + study was relieved by a juvenile expansion at ease in the noisy + good-humour of playtime. She was popular. Among those daughters of wealthy + businessmen, of Parisian lawyers or of gentlemen-farmers, a respectable + and rather affectedly serious world, the well-known name of old Ruys, the + respect with which at Paris an artist’s reputation is surrounded, created + for Felicia a greatly envied position, rendered more brilliant still by + her successes in the school-work, a genuine talent for drawing, and her + beauty, that superiority which asserts its power even among young girls. + In the wholesale atmosphere of the boarding-school, she was conscious of + an extreme pleasure as she grew feminized, in resuming her sex, in + learning to know order, regularity, otherwise than these were taught by + that amiable dancer whose kisses seemed always to keep the taste of paint + and her embraces somewhat artificial in the curving of her arms. Ruys, her + father, was enraptured each time that he came to see his daughter, to find + her more grown, womanly, knowing how to enter, to walk, and to leave a + room with that pretty courtesy which caused all Mme. Belin’s pupils to + long for the trailing rustle of a long skirt. + </p> + <p> + At first he came often, then, as he had not time enough for all his + commissions, accepted and undertaken, the advances on which went to pay + for the scrapes, the pleasures of his existence, he was seen more seldom + in the parlour. Finally, sickness intervened. Stricken by an incurable + anaemia, he would remain for weeks without leaving his house, without + doing any work. Thereupon he wished to have his daughter with him again; + and from the boarding-school, sheltered by so healthy a tranquility, + Felicia returned once more to her father’s studio, haunted still by the + same boon companions, the parasites which swarm around every celebrity, + into the midst of which sickness had introduced a new personage, Dr. + Jenkins. + </p> + <p> + His fine open countenance, the air of candour, of serenity that seemed to + dwell about the person of this physician, already famous, who was wont to + speak of his art so carelessly and yet seemed to work miraculous cures, + the care with which he surrounded her father, these things made a great + impression on the young girl. Jenkins became immediately her friend, + confidant, a vigilant and kind guardian. Occasionally, when, in the + studio, somebody—her father most likely of all—uttered a risky + jest, the Irishman would contract his eyebrows, give a little click of the + tongue, or perhaps distract Felicia’s attention. + </p> + <p> + He often used to take her to pass the day with Mme. Jenkins, endeavouring + to prevent her from becoming again the wild young thing she was before + going to school, or even something worse, as she threatened to do in the + moral neglect, sadder than all other, in which she was left. + </p> + <p> + But the young girl had as a protection something even better than the + irreproachable and worldly example of the handsome Mme. Jenkins: the art + that she adored, the enthusiasm which it implanted in her nature wholly + occupied with outside things, the sentiment of beauty, of truth, which, + from her thoughtful brain, full of ideas, passed into her fingers with a + little quivering of the nerves, a desire of the idea accomplished, of the + realized image. All day long she would work at her sculpture, giving shape + to her dreams with that happiness of instinctive youth which lends so much + charm to early work; this prevented her from any excessive regret for the + austerity of the Belin institution, sheltering and light as the veil of a + novice before her vows, and preserved her also from dangerous + conversations, unheard amid her unique preoccupation. + </p> + <p> + Ruys was proud of this talent growing up at his side. Growing every day + feebler, already at that stage in which the artist regrets himself, he + found in following Felicia’s progress a certain consolation for his own + ended career. He saw the boasting-tool, which trembled in his hand, taken + up again under his eye with a virile firmness and assurance, tempered by + all those delicacies of her being which a woman can apply to the + realization of an art. A strange sensation, this double paternity, this + survival of genius as it abandons the man whose day is over to pass into + him who is at his dawn, like those beautiful, familiar birds which, on the + eve of a death, will desert the menaced roof to fly away to a less + mournful lodging. + </p> + <p> + During the last period of her father’s life, Felicia—a great artist + and still a mere child—used to execute half of his works; and + nothing was more touching than this collaboration of father and daughter, + in the same studio, around the same group. The operation did not always + proceed peaceably; although her father’s pupil, Felicia already felt her + own personality rebel against any despotic direction. She had those + audacities of the beginner, those intuitions of the future which are the + heritage of young talents, and, in opposition to the romantic traditions + of Sebastien Ruys, a tendency to modern realism, a need to plant that + glorious old flag upon some new monument. + </p> + <p> + These things were the occasion of terrible arguments, of discussions from + which the father came out beaten, conquered by his daughter’s logic, + astonished at the progress made by the young, while the old, who have + opened the way for them, remain motionless at the point from which they + started. When she was working for him, Felicia would yield more easily; + but, where her own sculpture was concerned she was found to be + intractable. Thus the <i>Joueur de Boules</i>, her first exhibited work, + which obtained so great a success at the Salon of 1862, was the subject of + violent scenes between the two artists, of contradictions so strong, that + Jenkins had to intervene and help to secure the safety of the plaster-cast + which Ruys had threatened to destroy. + </p> + <p> + Apart from such little dramas, which in no way affected the tenderness of + their hearts, these two beings adored each other with the presentiment + and, gradually, the cruel certitude of an approaching separation, when + suddenly there occurred in Felicia’s life a horrible event. One day, + Jenkins had taken her to dine at his house, as often happened. Mme. + Jenkins was away on a couple of days’ visit, as also her son; but the + doctor’s age, his semi-paternal intimacy, allowed him to have with him, + even in his wife’s absence, this young girl whose fifteen years, the + fifteen years of an Eastern Jewess glorious in her precocious beauty, left + her still near childhood. + </p> + <p> + The dinner was very gay, and Jenkins pleasant and cordial as usual. + Afterwards they went into the doctor’s study, and suddenly, on the couch, + in the middle of an intimate and quite friendly conversation about her + father, his health, their work together, Felicia felt as it were the chill + of a gulf between herself and this man, then the brutal grasp of a faun. + She beheld an unknown Jenkins, wild-looking, stammering with a besotted + laugh and outraging hands. In the surprise, the unexpectedness of this + bestial attack, any other than Felicia—a child of her own age, + really innocent, would have been lost. As for her, poor little thing! what + saved her was her knowledge. She had heard so many stories of this kind of + thing at her father’s table! and then art, and the life of the studio—She + was not an <i>ingenue</i>. In a moment she understood the object of this + grasp, struggled, sprang up, then, not being strong enough, cried out. He + was afraid, released his hold, and suddenly she found herself standing up, + free, with the man on his knees weeping and begging forgiveness. He had + yielded to a fit of madness. She was so beautiful; he loved her so much. + For months he had been struggling. But now it was over, never again, oh, + never again! Not even would he so much as touch the hem of her dress. She + made no reply, trembled, put her hair and her clothes straight again with + the fingers of a woman demented. To go home—she wished to go home + instantly, quite alone. He sent a servant with her; and, quite low, as she + was getting into the carriage, whispered: + </p> + <p> + “Above all, not a word. It would kill your father.” + </p> + <p> + He knew her so well, he was so sure of his power over her through that + suggestion, the blackguard! that he returned on the morrow looking bright + as ever and with loyal face as though nothing had happened. In fact, she + never spoke of the matter to her father, nor to any one. But, dating from + that day, a change came over her, a sudden development, as it were, of her + haughty ways. She was subject to caprices, wearinesses, a curl of disgust + in her smile, and sometimes quick fits of anger against her father, a + glance of contempt which reproached him for not having known how to watch + over her. + </p> + <p> + “What is the matter with her?” Ruys, her father, used to say; and Jenkins, + with the authority of a doctor, would put it down to her age and some + physical disturbance. He avoided speaking to the girl herself, counting on + time to efface the sinister impression, and not despairing of attaining + his end, for he desired it still, more than ever, prey to the exasperated + love of a man of forty-seven to one of those incurable passions of + maturity; and that was this hypocrite’s punishment. This unusual condition + of his daughter was a real grief to the sculptor; but this grief was of + short duration. Without warning, Ruys flickered out of life, fell to + pieces in a moment, as was the way with all the Irishman’s patients. His + last words were: + </p> + <p> + “Jenkins, I beg you to look after my daughter.” + </p> + <p> + They were so ironically mournful that Jenkins could not prevent himself + from turning pale. + </p> + <p> + Felicia was even more stupefied than grief-stricken. To the amazement + caused by death, which she had never seen and which now came before her + wearing features so dear, there was joined the sense of a vast solitude + surrounded by darkness and perils. + </p> + <p> + A few of the sculptor’s friends gathered together as a family council to + consider the future of this unfortunate child without relatives or + fortune. Fifty francs had been discovered in the box where Sebastien used + to put his money, on a piece of the studio furniture well known to its + needy frequenters and visited by them without scruple. There was no other + inheritance, at least in cash; only a quantity of artistic and curious + furniture of the most sumptuous description, a few valuable pictures, and + a certain amount of money owing but scarcely sufficing to cover numberless + debts. It was proposed to organize a sale. Felicia, when she was + consulted, replied that she would not care if everything were sold, but, + for God’s sake, let them leave her in peace. + </p> + <p> + The sale did not take place, however, thanks to the godmother, the + excellent Crenmitz, who suddenly made her appearance, calm and gentle as + usual. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t listen to them, my child. Sell nothing. Your old Constance has an + income of fifteen thousand francs, which was destined to come to you later + on. You will take advantage of it at once, that is all. We will live here + together. You will see, I shall not be in the way. You will work at your + sculpture, I shall manage the house. Does that suit you?” + </p> + <p> + It was said so tenderly, with that childishness of accent which foreigners + have when expressing themselves in French, that the girl was deeply moved. + Her heart that had seemed turned to stone opened, a burning flood came + pouring from her eyes, and she rushed, flung herself into the arms of the + dancer. “Ah, godmother, how good you are to me! Yes, yes, don’t leave me + any more. Stay with me always. Life frightens and disgusts me. I see so + much hypocrisy in it, so much falsehood.” And the old woman arranged for + herself a silken and embroidered nest in this house so like a traveller’s + camp laden with treasures from every land, and the suggested dual life + began for these two different natures. + </p> + <p> + It was no small sacrifice that Constance had made for the dear demon in + quitting her Fontainebleau retreat for Paris, which inspired her with + terror. Ever since the day when this dancer, with her extravagant + caprices, who made princely fortunes flow and disappear through her five + open fingers, had descended from her triumphant position, a little of its + dazzling glitter still in her eyes, and had attempted to resume an + ordinary existence, to manage her little income and her modest household, + she had been the object of a thousand impudent exploitations, of frauds + that were easy in view of the ignorance of this poor butterfly that was + frightened by reality and came into collision with all its unknown + difficulties. Living in Felicia’s house, the responsibility became still + more serious by reason of the wastefulness introduced long ago by the + father and continued by the daughter, two artists knowing nothing of + economy. She had, moreover, other difficulties to conquer. She found the + studio insupportable with its permanent atmosphere of tobacco smoke, an + impenetrable cloud for her, in which the discussions on art, the analysis + of ideas, were lost and which infallibly gave her a headache. “Chaff,” + above all, frightened her. As a foreigner, as at one time a divinity of + the green-room, brought up on out-of-date compliments, on gallantries <i>a + la Dorat</i>, she did not understand it, and would feel terrified in the + presence of the wild exaggerations, the paradoxes of these Parisians + refined by the liberty of the studio. + </p> + <p> + That kind of thing was intimidating to her who had never possessed wit + save in the vivacity of her feet, and reduced her simply to the rank of a + lady-companion; and, seeing this amiable old dame sitting, silent and + smiling, her knitting in her lap, like one of Chardin’s <i>bourgeoises</i>, + or hastening by the side of her cook up the long Rue de Chaillot, where + the nearest market happened to be, one would never have guessed that that + simple old body had ruled kings, princes, the whole class of amorous + nobles and financiers, at the caprice of her step and pirouettings. + </p> + <p> + Paris is full of such fallen stars, extinguished by the crowd. + </p> + <p> + Some of these famous ones, these conquerors of a former day, cherish a + rage in their heart; others, on the contrary, enjoy the past blissfully, + digest in an ineffable content all their glorious and ended joys, asking + only repose, silence, shadow, good enough for memory and contemplations, + so that when they die people are quite astonished to learn that they had + been still living. + </p> + <p> + Constance Crenmitz was among these fortunate ones. The household of these + two women was a curious one. Both were childlike, placing side by side in + a common domain, inexperience and ambition, the tranquility of an + accomplished destiny and the fever of a life plunged in struggle, all the + different qualities manifest even in the serene style of dress affected by + this blonde who seemed all white like a faded rose, with something beneath + her bright colours that vaguely suggested the footlights, and that + brunette with the regular features, who almost always clothed her beauty + in dark materials, simple in fold, a semblance, as it were, of virility. + </p> + <p> + Things unforeseen, caprices, ignorance of even the least important + details, led to an extreme disorder in the finances of the household, + disorder which was only rectified by dint of privations, by the dismissal + of servants, by reforms that were laughable in their exaggeration. During + one of these crises, Jenkins had made veiled delicate offers, which, + however, were repulsed with contempt by Felicia. + </p> + <p> + “It is not nice of you,” Constance would remark to her, “to be so hard on + the poor doctor. After all, there was nothing offensive in his suggestion. + An old friend of your father.” + </p> + <p> + “He, any one’s friend! Ah, the hypocrite!” + </p> + <p> + And Felicia, hardly able to contain herself, would give an ironical turn + to her wrath, imitating Jenkins with his oily manner and his hand on his + heart; then, puffing out her cheeks, she would say in a loud, deep voice + full of lying unction: + </p> + <p> + “Let us be humane, let us be kind. To do good without hope of reward! That + is the whole point.” + </p> + <p> + Constance used to laugh till the tears came, in spite of herself. The + resemblance was so perfect. + </p> + <p> + “All the same, you are too hard. You will end by driving him away + altogether.” + </p> + <p> + “Little fear of that,” a shake of the girl’s head would reply. + </p> + <p> + In effect he always came back, pleasant, amiable, dissimulating his + passion, which was visible only when it grew jealous of newcomers, paying + assiduous attention to the old dancer, who, in spite of everything, found + his good-nature pleasing and recognised in him a man of her own time, of + the time when one accosted a woman with a kiss on her hand, with a + compliment on her appearance. + </p> + <p> + One morning, Jenkins having called in the course of his round, found + Constance alone and doing nothing in the antechamber. + </p> + <p> + “You see, doctor, I am on guard,” she remarked tranquilly. + </p> + <p> + “How is that?” + </p> + <p> + “Felicia is at work. She wishes not to be disturbed; and the servants are + so stupid, I am myself seeing that her orders are obeyed.” + </p> + <p> + Then, seeing that the Irishman made a step towards the studio: + </p> + <p> + “No, no, don’t go in. She told me very particularly not to let any one go + in.” + </p> + <p> + “But I?” + </p> + <p> + “I beg you not. You would get me a scolding.” + </p> + <p> + Jenkins was about to take his leave when a burst of laughter from Felicia, + coming through the curtains, made him prick up his ears. + </p> + <p> + “She is not alone, then?” + </p> + <p> + “No, the Nabob is with her. They are having a sitting for the portrait.” + </p> + <p> + “And why this mystery? It is a very singular thing.” He commenced to walk + backward and forward, evidently very angry, but containing his wrath. + </p> + <p> + At last he burst forth. + </p> + <p> + It was an unheard-of impropriety to let a girl thus shut herself in with a + man. + </p> + <p> + He was surprised that one so serious, so devoted as Constance—What + did it look like? + </p> + <p> + The old lady looked at him with stupefaction. As though Felicia were like + other girls! And then what danger was there with the Nabob, so staid a man + and so ugly? Besides, Jenkins ought to know quite well that Felicia never + consulted anybody, that she always had her own way. + </p> + <p> + “No, no, it is impossible! I cannot tolerate this,” exclaimed the + Irishman. + </p> + <p> + And, without paying any further heed to the dancer, who raised her arms to + heaven as a call upon it to witness what was about to happen, he moved + towards the studio; but, instead of entering immediately, he softly + half-opened the door and raised a corner of the hangings, whereby the + portion of the room in which the Nabob was posing became visible to him, + although at a considerable distance. + </p> + <p> + Jansoulet, seated without cravat and with his waist-coat open, was talking + apparently in some agitation and in a low voice. Felicia was replying in a + similar tone, in laughing whispers. The sitting was very animated. Then a + silence, a silken rustle of skirts, and the artist, going up to her model, + turned down his linen collar all round with familiar gesture, allowing her + light hand to run over the sun-tanned skin. + </p> + <p> + That Ethiopian face on which the muscles stood out in the very + intoxication of health, with its long drooping eyelashes as of some deer + being gently stroked in its sleep; the bold profile of the girl as she + leaned over those strange features in order to verify their proportions; + then a violent, irresistible gesture, clutching the delicate hand as it + passed and pressing it to two thick, passionate lips. Jenkins saw all that + in one red flash. + </p> + <p> + The noise that he made in entering caused the two personages instantly to + resume their respective positions, and, in the strong light which dazzled + his prying eyes, he saw the young girl standing before him, indignant, + stupefied. + </p> + <p> + “Who is that? Who has taken the liberty?” and the Nabob, on his platform, + with his collar turned down, petrified, monumental. + </p> + <p> + Jenkins, a little abashed, frightened by his own audacity, murmured some + excuses. He had something very urgent to say to M. Jansoulet, a piece of + news which was most important and would suffer no delay. “He knew upon the + best authority that certain decorations were to be bestowed on the 16th of + March.” + </p> + <p> + Immediately the face of the Nabob, that for a moment had been frowning, + relaxed. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! can it be true?” + </p> + <p> + He abandoned his pose. The thing was worth the trouble, <i>que diable!</i> + M. de la Perriere, a secretary of the department involved had been + commissioned by the Empress to visit the Bethlehem Refuge. Jenkins had + come in search of the Nabob to take him to see the secretary at the + Tuileries and to appoint a day. This visit to Bethlehem, it meant the + cross for him. + </p> + <p> + “Quick, let us start, my dear doctor. I follow you.” + </p> + <p> + He was no longer angry with Jenkins for having disturbed him, and he + knotted his cravat feverishly, forgetting in his new emotions how he had + been upset a moment earlier, for ambition with him came before all else. + </p> + <p> + While the two men were talking in a half-whisper, Felicia, standing + motionless before them, with quivering nostrils and her lip curled in + contempt, watched them with an air of saying, “Well, I am waiting.” + </p> + <p> + Jansoulet apologized for being obliged to interrupt the sitting; but a + visit of the most extreme importance—She smiled in pity. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t mention it, don’t mention it. At the point which we have reached I + can work without you.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes,” said the doctor, “the work is almost completed.” + </p> + <p> + He added with the air of a connoisseur: + </p> + <p> + “It is a fine piece of work.” + </p> + <p> + And, counting upon covering his retreat with this compliment, he made for + the door with shoulders drooped; but Felicia detained him abruptly. + </p> + <p> + “Stay, you. I have something to say to you.” + </p> + <p> + He saw clearly from her look that he would have to yield, on pain of an + explosion. + </p> + <p> + “You will excuse me, <i>cher ami</i>? Mademoiselle has a word for me. My + brougham is at the door. Get in. I will be with you immediately.” + </p> + <p> + As soon as the door of the studio had closed on that heavy, retreating + foot, each of them looked at the other full in the face. + </p> + <p> + “You must be either drunk or mad to have allowed yourself to behave in + this way. What! you dare to enter my house when I am not at home? What + does this violence mean? By what right—” + </p> + <p> + “By the right of a despairing and incurable passion.” + </p> + <p> + “Be silent, Jenkins, you are saying words that I will not hear. I allow + you to come here out of pity, from habit, because my father was fond of + you. But never speak to me again of your—love”—she uttered the + word in a very low voice, as though it were shameful—“or you shall + never see me again, even though I should have to kill myself in order to + escape you once and for all.” + </p> + <p> + A child caught in mischief could not bend its head more humbly than did + Jenkins, as he replied: + </p> + <p> + “It is true. I was in the wrong. A moment of madness, of blindness—But + why do you amuse yourself by torturing my heart as you do?” + </p> + <p> + “I think of you often, however.” + </p> + <p> + “Whether you think of me or not, I am there, I see what goes on, and your + coquetry hurts me terribly.” + </p> + <p> + A touch of red mounted to her cheeks at this reproach. + </p> + <p> + “A coquette, I? And with whom?” + </p> + <p> + “With that,” said the Irishman, indicating the ape-like and powerful bust. + </p> + <p> + She tried to laugh. + </p> + <p> + “The Nabob? What folly!” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t tell an untruth about it now. Do you think I am blind, that I do + not notice all your little manoeuvres? You remain alone with him for very + long at a time. Just now, I was there. I saw you.” He dropped his voice as + though breath had failed him. “What do you want, strange and cruel child? + I have seen you repulse the most handsome, the most noble, the greatest. + That little de Gery devours you with his eyes; you take no notice. The Duc + de Mora himself has not been able to reach your heart. And it is that man + there who is ugly, vulgar, who had no thought of you, whose head is full + of quite other matters than love. You saw how he went off just now. What + can you mean? What do you expect from him?” + </p> + <p> + “I want—I want him to marry me. There!” + </p> + <p> + Coldly, in a softened tone, as though this avowal had brought her nearer + the level of the man whom she so much despised, she explained her motives. + The life which she led was pushing her into a situation from which there + was no way out. She had luxurious and expensive tastes, habits of disorder + which nothing could conquer and which would bring her inevitably to + poverty, both her and that good Crenmitz, who was allowing herself to be + ruined without saying a word. In three years, four years at the outside, + all would be over with them. And then the wretched expedients, the debts, + the tatters and old shoes of poor artists’ households. Or, indeed, the + lover, the man who keeps a mistress—that is to say, slavery and + infamy. + </p> + <p> + “Come, come,” said Jenkins. “And what of me, am I not here?” + </p> + <p> + “Anything rather than you,” she exclaimed, stiffening. “No, what I + require, what I want, is a husband who will protect me from others and + from myself, who will save me from many terrible things of which I am + afraid in my moments of ennui, from the gulfs in which I feel that I may + perish, some one who will love me while I am at work and relieve my poor + old wearied fairy of her sentry duty. This man here suits my purpose, and + I thought of him from the first time I met him. He is ugly, but he has a + kind manner; then, too, he is ridiculously rich, and wealth, upon that + scale, must be amusing. Oh, I know well enough. No doubt there is in his + life some blemish that has brought him luck. All that money cannot be made + honestly. But come, truly now, Jenkins, with your hand on that heart you + so often invoke, do you think me a wife who should be very attractive to + an honest man? See: among all these young men who ask permission as a + favour to be allowed to come here, which one has dreamed of offering me + marriage? Never a single one. De Gery no more than the rest. I am + attractive, but I make men afraid. It is intelligible enough. What can one + imagine of a girl brought up as I have been, without a mother, among my + father’s models and mistresses? What mistresses, <i>mon Dieu</i>! And + Jenkins for sole guardian. Oh, when I think, when I think!” + </p> + <p> + And from that far-off memory things surged up that stirred her to a deeper + wrath. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, yes, <i>parbleu</i>! I am a daughter of adventure, and this + adventurer is, of a truth, the fit husband for me.” + </p> + <p> + “You must wait at least till he is a widower,” replied Jenkins calmly. + “And, in that case, you run the risk of having a long time to wait, for + his Levantine seems to enjoy excellent health.” + </p> + <p> + Felicia Ruys turned pale. + </p> + <p> + “He is married?” + </p> + <p> + “Married? certainly, and father of a bevy of children. The whole camp of + them landed a couple of days ago.” + </p> + <p> + For a minute she remained overwhelmed, looking into space, her cheeks + quivering. Opposite her, the Nabob’s large face, with its flattened nose, + its sensual and weak mouth, spoke insistently of life and reality in the + gloss of its clay. She looked at it for an instant, then made a step + forward and, with a gesture of disgust, overturned, with the high wooden + stool on which it stood, the glistening and greasy block, which fell on + the floor shattered to a heap of mud. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0010" id="link2H_4_0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + JANSOULET AT HOME + </h2> + <p> + Married he was and had been so for twelve years, but he had mentioned the + fact to no one among his Parisian acquaintances, through Eastern habit, + that silence which the people of those countries preserve upon affairs of + the harem. Suddenly it was reported that madame was coming, that + apartments were to be prepared for herself, her children, and her female + attendants. The Nabob took the whole second floor of the house on the + Place Vendome, the tenant of which was turned out at an expense worthy of + a Nabob. The stables also were extended, the staff doubled; then, one day, + coachmen and carriages went to the Gare de Lyon to meet madame, who + arrived by train heated expressly for her during the journey from + Marseilles and filled by a suite of negresses, serving-maids, and little + negro boys. + </p> + <p> + She arrived in a condition of frightful exhaustion, utterly worn out and + bewildered by her long railway journey, the first of her life, for, after + being taken to Tunis while still quite a child, she had never left it. + From her carriage, two negroes carried her into her apartments on an easy + chair which, subsequently, always remained downstairs beneath the entrance + porch, in readiness for these difficult removals. Mme. Jansoulet could not + mount the staircase, which made her dizzy; she would not have lifts, which + creaked under her weight; besides, she never walked. Of enormous size, + bloated to such a degree that it was impossible to assign to her any + particular age between twenty-five and forty, with a rather pretty face + but grown shapeless in its features, dull eyes beneath lids that drooped, + vulgarly dressed in foreign clothes, laden with diamonds and jewels after + the fashion of a Hindu idol, she was as fine a sample as could be found of + those transplanted European women called Levantines—a curious race + of obese creoles whom speech and costume alone attach to our world, but + whom the East wraps round with its stupefying atmosphere, with the subtle + poisons of its drugged air in which everything, from the tissues of the + skin to the waists of garments, even to the soul, is enervated and + relaxed. + </p> + <p> + This particular specimen of it was the daughter of an immensely rich + Belgian who was engaged in the coral trade at Tunis, and in whose business + Jansoulet, after his arrival in the country, had been employed for some + months. Mlle. Afchin, in those days a delicious little doll of twelve + years old, with radiant complexion, hair, and health, used often to come + to fetch her father from the counting-house in the great chariot with its + yoke of mules which carried them to their fine villa at La Marsu, in the + vicinity of Tunis. This mischievous child with splendid bare shoulders, + had dazzled the adventurer as he caught glimpses of her amid her luxurious + surroundings, and, years afterward, when, having become rich and the + favourite of the Bey, he began to think of settling down, it was to her + that his thoughts went. The child had grown into a fat young woman, heavy + and white. Her intelligence, dull in the first instance, had become still + more obscured through the inertia of a dormouse’s existence, the + carelessness of a father given over to business, the use of + opium-saturated tobacco and of preserves made from rose-leaves, the torpor + of her Flemish blood, re-enforced by Oriental indolence. Furthermore, she + was ill-bred, gluttonous, sensual, arrogant, a Levantine jewel in + perfection. + </p> + <p> + But Jansoulet saw nothing of all this. + </p> + <p> + For him she was, and remained, up to the time of her arrival in Paris, a + superior creature, a lady of the most exalted rank, a Demoiselle Afchin. + He addressed her with respect, in her presence maintained an attitude + which was a little constrained and timid, gave her money without counting, + satisfied her most costly fantasies, her wildest caprices, all the strange + desires of a Levantine’s brain disordered through boredom and idleness. + One word alone excused everything. She was a Demoiselle Afchin. Beyond + this, no intercourse between them; he always at the Kasbah or the Bardo, + courting the favour of the Bey, or else in his counting-houses; she + passing her days in bed, wearing in her hair a diadem of pearls worth + three hundred thousand francs which she never took off, befuddling her + brain with smoking, living as in a harem, admiring herself in the glass, + adorning herself, in company with a few other Levantines, whose supreme + distraction consisted in measuring with their necklaces arms and legs + which rivalled each other in plumpness, and bearing children about whom + she never gave herself the least trouble, whom she never used to see, who + had not even cost her a pang, for she gave birth to them under chloroform. + A lump of white flesh perfumed with musk. And, as Jansoulet used to say + with pride: “I married a Demoiselle Afchin!” + </p> + <p> + Under the sky of Paris and its cold light the disillusion began. + Determined to settle down, to receive, to give entertainments, the Nabob + had brought his wife over with the idea of setting her at the head of the + establishment; but when he saw the arrival of that display of gaudy + draperies of Palais-Royal jewelry, and all the strange paraphernalia in + her suite, he had the vague impression of a Queen Pomare in exile. The + fact was that now he had seen real women of the world, and he made + comparisons. After having planned a great ball to celebrate her arrival, + he prudently changed his mind. Besides, Mme. Jansoulet desired to see + nobody. Here her natural indolence was increased by the home-sickness + which she suffered, from the first hour of her coming, by the chilliness + of a yellow fog and the dripping rain. She passed several days without + getting up, weeping aloud like a child, saying that it was in order to + cause her death that she had been brought to Paris, and not permitting her + women to do even the least thing for her. She lay there bellowing among + the laces of her pillow, with her hair bristling in disorder about her + diadem, the windows of the room closed, the curtains drawn close, the + lamps lighted night and day, crying out that she wanted to go away-y, to + go away-y; and it was pitiful to see, in that funeral gloom, the + half-unpacked trunks scattered over the carpets, the frightened maids, the + negresses crouched around their mistress in her nervous attack, they also + groaning, with haggard eyes like those dogs of artic travellers that go + mad without the sun. + </p> + <p> + The Irish doctor, called in to deal with all this trouble, had no success + with his fatherly manners, the pretty phrases that issued from his + compressed lips. The Levantine would have nothing to do at any price with + the arsenic pearls as a tonic. The Nabob was in consternation. What was to + be done? Send her back to Tunis with the children? It was scarcely + possible. He was decidedly in disgrace in that quarter. The Hemerlingues + were triumphant. A last affront had filled up the measure. At Jansoulet’s + departure, the Bey had commissioned him to have gold-pieces struck at the + Paris Mint of a new design to the value of several millions; then the + order, suddenly withdrawn, had been given to Hemerlingue. Publicly + outraged, Jansoulet had replied by a public demonstration, offering for + sale all his possessions, his palace at the Bardo given to him by the + former Bey, his villas of La Marsu all of white marble, surrounded by + splendid gardens, his counting-houses which were the largest and the most + sumptuous in the city, and, charging, finally, the intelligent Bompain to + bring over to him his wife and children in order to make a clear + affirmation of a definitive departure. After such an uproar, it was no + easy thing for him to return there; this was what he endeavoured to make + evident to Mlle. Afchin, who only replied to him by deep groans. He tried + to console her, to amuse her, but what distraction could be found to + appeal to that monstrously apathetic nature? And then, could he change the + sky of Paris, restore to the unhappy Levantine her <i>patio</i> paved with + marble, where she used to pass long hours in a cool, delicious sleepiness, + listening to the water as it dripped on the great alabaster fountain with + its three basins, one over the other, and her gilded barge, with its + awning of crimson, which eight Tripolitan boatmen supple and vigorous + rowed after sunset on the beautiful lake of El-Baheira? However luxurious + the apartment of the Place Vendome might be, it could not compensate for + the loss of these marvels. And then she would be more miserable than ever. + At last, a man who was a frequent visitor to the house succeeded in + lifting her out of her despair. This was Cabassu, the man who described + himself on his cards as “professor of massage,” a big, dark, thick-set + man, smelling of garlic and pomade, square-shouldered, hairy to the eyes, + and who knew stories of Parisian seraglios, tales within the reach of + madame’s intelligence. Having once come to massage her, she wished to see + him again, retained him. He had to give up all his other clients, and + became, at the salary of a senator, the masseur of this stout lady, her + page, her reader, her body-guard. Jansoulet, delighted to see his wife + contented, was unconscious of the ridicule attached to this intimacy. + </p> + <p> + Cabassu was now seen in the Bois, seated beside the favourite maid in the + huge and sumptuous open carriage, also at the back of the theatre boxes + taken by the Levantine, for she began to go out, since she had grown less + torpid under the treatment of her masseur and was determined to amuse + herself. The theatre pleased her, especially farces or melodramas. The + apathy of her large body found a stimulus in the false glare of the + footlights. But it was to Cardailhac’s theatre that she went for + preference. There, the Nabob found himself in his own house. From the + chief superintendent to the humblest <i>ouvreuse</i>, the whole staff was + under his control. He had a key which enabled him to pass from the + corridors on to the stage; and the small drawing-room communicating with + his box was decorated in Oriental manner, with a concave ceiling like a + beehive, its couches covered in camel’s hair, the flame of the gas + inclosed in a little Moorish lantern. Here one could enjoy a siesta during + rather long intervals between the acts; a gallant attention on the part of + the manager to the wife of his partner. Nor did that ape of a Cardailhac + stop at this. Remarking the taste of the Demoiselle Afchin for the drama, + he had ended by persuading her that she also possessed the intuition, the + knowledge of it, and by begging her when she had nothing better to do to + glance over and let him know what she thought of the pieces that were + submitted to him. A good way of cementing the partnership more firmly. + </p> + <p> + Poor manuscripts in your blue or yellow covers, bound by hope with fragile + ribbons, that set out full of ambition and dreams, who knows what hands + may touch you, turn over your pages, what indiscreet fingers deflower your + charm, the charm of the unknown, that glittering dust which lies on new + ideas? Who may judge you and who condemn? Sometimes, before dining out, + Jansoulet, mounting to his wife’s room, would find her on her lounge, + smoking, her head thrown back, bundles of manuscripts by her side, and + Cabassu, armed with a blue pencil, reading in his thick voice and with the + Bourg-Saint-Andeol accent, some dramatic lucubration which he cut and + scored without pity at the least criticism from the lady. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t disturb yourselves,” the good Nabob would signal with his hand, + entering on tiptoe. He would listen, shake his head with an admiring air, + as he watched his wife: “She is astonishing!” for he himself understood + nothing about literature, and there, at least, he could discover once + again the superiority of Mlle. Afchin. + </p> + <p> + “She had the instinct of the stage,” as Cardailhac used to say; but, on + the other hand, the maternal instinct was wanting in her. Never did she + take any interest in her children, abandoning them to the hands of + strangers, and, when they were brought to her once a month, contenting + herself with offering to them the flaccid and inanimate flesh of her + cheeks between two puffs of cigarette-smoke, without making any inquiries + into those details of their bringing up and of their health which + perpetuate the physical bond of maternity and make the hearts of true + mothers bleed at the least suffering of their children. + </p> + <p> + They were three big, dull and apathetic boys of eleven, nine, and seven + years, having, with the sallow complexion and the precocious bloatedness + of the Levantine, the kind, black, velvety eyes of their father. They were + ignorant as young lords of the middle ages. At Tunis, M. Bompain had + directed their studies; but at Paris, the Nabob, anxious to give them the + benefit of a Parisian education, had sent them to that smartest and most + expensive of boarding-schools, the College Bourdaloue, managed by good + priests who sought less to instruct their pupils than to make of them + good-mannered and right-thinking men of the world, and succeeded in + turning them out affectedly grave and ridiculous little prigs, disdainful + of games, absolutely ignorant, without anything spontaneous or boyish + about them, and of a desperate precocity. The little Jansoulets were not + very happy in this forcing-house, notwithstanding the immunities which + they enjoyed by reason of their immense wealth; they were, indeed, utterly + left to themselves. Even the creoles in the charge of the institution had + some friend whom they visited and people who came to see them; but the + Jansoulets were never summoned to the parlour, no one knew any of their + relatives; from time to time they received basketfuls of sweetmeats, piles + of confectionery, and that was all. The Nabob, doing some shopping in + Paris, would strip for them the whole of a pastry-cook’s window and send + the spoils to the college, with that generous impulse of the heart mingled + with negro ostentation which characterized all his actions. It was the + same in the matter of playthings. They were always too pretty, tricked out + too finely, useless—those toys that are for show but which the + Parisian does not buy. But that which above all attracted to the little + Jansoulets the respect both of pupils and masters, were their purses heavy + with gold, ever ready for school subscriptions, for the professors’ + birthdays, and the charity visits, those famous visits organized by the + College Bourdaloue, one of the tempting things in the prospectus, the + marvel of sensitive souls. + </p> + <p> + Twice a month, turn and turn about, the pupils who were members of the + miniature Society of St. Vincent de Paul founded in the college upon the + model of the great one, went in little squads, alone, as though they had + been grown-up, to bear succour and consolation into the deepest recesses + of the more densely populated quarters of the town. This was designed to + teach them a practical charity, the art of knowing the needs, the miseries + of the lower classes, and to heal these heart-rending evils by a nostrum + of kind words and ecclesiastical maxims. To console, to evangelize the + masses by the help of childhood, to disarm religious incredulity by the + youth and <i>naivete</i> of the apostles, such was the aim of this little + society; an aim entirely missed, moreover. The children, healthy, + well-dressed, well-fed, calling only at addresses previously selected, + found poor persons of good appearance, sometimes rather unwell, but very + clean, already on the parish register and in receipt of aid from the + wealthy organization of the Church. Never did they chance to enter one of + those nauseous dwellings wherein hunger, grief, humiliation, all physical + and moral ills are written in leprous mould on the walls, in indelible + lines on the brows. Their visits were prepared for, like that of the + sovereign who enters a guard-room to taste the soldiers’ soup: the + guard-room is warmed and the soup seasoned for the royal palate. Have you + seen those pictures in pious books, where a little communicant, with + candle in hand, and perfectly groomed, comes to minister to a poor old man + lying sick on his straw pallet and turning the whites of his eyes to + heaven? These visits of charity had the same conventionality of setting + and of accent. To the measured gestures of the little preachers were + corresponding words learned by heart and false enough to make one squint. + To the comic encouragement, to the “consolations lavished” in prize-book + phrases by the voices of young urchins with colds, were the affecting + benedictions, the whining and piteous mummeries of a church-porch after + vespers. And the moment the young visitors departed, what an explosion of + laughter and shouting in the garret, what a dance in a circle round the + present brought, what an upsetting of the arm-chair in which one had + pretended to be lying ill, of the medicine spilt in the fire, a fire of + cinders very artistically prepared! + </p> + <p> + When the little Jansoulets went out to visit their parents at home, they + were intrusted to the care of the man with the red fez, the indispensable + Bompain. It was Bompain who conducted them to the Champs-Elysees, clad in + English jackets, bowler hats of the latest fashion—at seven years + old!—and carrying little canes in their dog-skin-gloved hands. It + was Bompain who stuffed the race-wagonette with provisions. Here he + mounted with the children, who, with their entrance-cards stuck in their + hats round which green veils were twisted, looked very like those + personages in Liliputian pantomimes whose entire funniness lies in the + enormous size of their heads compared with their small legs and dwarf-like + gestures. They smoked and drank; it was a painful sight. Sometimes the man + in the fez, hardly able to hold himself upright, would bring them home + frightfully sick. And yet Jansoulet was fond of them, the youngest + especially, who, with his long hair, his doll-like manner, recalled to him + the little Afchin passing in her carriage. But they were still of the age + when children belong to the mother, when neither the fashionable tailor, + nor the most accomplished masters, nor the smart boarding-school, nor the + ponies girthed specially for the little men in the stable, nor anything + else can replace the attentive and caressing hand, the warmth and the + gaiety of the home-nest. The father could not give them that; and then, + too, he was so busy! + </p> + <p> + A thousand irons in the fire: the Territorial Bank, the installation of + the picture gallery, drives to Tattersall’s with Bois l’Hery, some <i>bibelot</i> + to inspect, here or there, at the houses of collectors indicated by + Schwalbach, hours passed with trainers, jockeys, dealers in curiosities, + the encumbered and multiple existence of a <i>bourgeois gentilhomme</i> in + modern Paris. This rubbing of shoulders with all sorts and conditions of + people brought him improvement, in that each day he was becoming a little + more Parisianized; he was received at Monpavon’s club, in the green-room + of the ballet, behind the scenes at the theatres, and presided regularly + at his famous bachelor luncheons, the only receptions possible in his + household. His existence was really a very busy one, and de Gery relieved + him of the heaviest part of it, the complicated department of appeals and + of charities. + </p> + <p> + The young man now became acquainted with all the audacious and burlesque + inventions, all the serio-comic combinations of that mendicancy of great + cities, organized like a department of state, innumerable as an army, + which subscribes to the newspapers and knows its <i>Bottin</i> by heart. + He received the blonde lady, bold, young, and already faded, who only asks + for a hundred napoleons, with the threat that she will throw herself into + the river when she leaves if they are not given to her, and the stout + matron of prepossessing and unceremonious manner, who says, as she enters: + “Sir, you do not know me. Neither have I the honour of knowing you. But we + shall soon make each other’s acquaintance. Be kind enough to sit down and + let us have a chat.” The merchant at bay, on the verge of bankruptcy—sometimes + it is true—who comes to entreat you to save his honour, with a + pistol ready to shoot himself, bulging out the pocket of his overcoat—sometimes + it is only his pipe-case. And often genuine distresses, wearisome and + prolix, of people who are unable even to tell how little competent they + are to earn a livelihood. Side by side with this open begging, there was + that which wears various kinds of disguise: charity, philanthropy, good + works, the encouragement of projects of art, the house-to-house begging + for infant asylums, parish churches, rescued women, charitable societies, + local libraries. Finally, those who wear a society mask, with tickets for + concerts, benefit performances, entrance-cards of all colours, “platform, + front seats, reserved seats.” The Nabob insisted that no refusals should + be given, and it was a concession that he no longer burdened his own + shoulders with such matters. For quite a long time, in generous + indifference, he had gone on covering with gold all that hypocritical + exploitation, paying five hundred francs for a ticket for the concert of + some Wurtemberg cithara-player or Languedocian flutist, which at the + Tuileries or at the Duc de Mora’s might have fetched ten francs. There + were days when the young de Gery issued from these audiences nauseated. + All the honesty of his youth revolted; he approached the Nabob with + schemes of reform. But the Nabob’s face, at the first word, would assume + the bored expression of weak natures when they have to make a decision, or + he would perhaps reply: “But that is Paris, my dear boy. Don’t get + frightened or interfere with my plans. I know what I am doing and what I + want.” + </p> + <p> + At that time he wanted two things: a deputyship and the cross of the + Legion of Honour. These were for him the first two stages of the great + ascent to which his ambition pushed him. Deputy he would certainly be + through the influence of the Territorial Bank, at the head of which he + stood. Paganetti of Porto-Vecchio was often saying it to him: “When the + day arrives, the island will rise and vote for you as one man.” + </p> + <p> + It is not enough, however, to control electors; it is necessary also that + there be a seat vacant in the Chamber, and the representation of Corsica + was complete. One of its members, however, the old Popolusca, infirm and + in no condition to do his work, might perhaps, upon certain conditions, be + willing to resign his seat. It was a difficult matter to negotiate, but + quite feasible, the old fellow having a numerous family, estates which + produced little or nothing, a palace in ruins at Bastia, where his + children lived on <i>polenta</i>, and a furnished apartment at Paris in an + eighteenth-rate lodging-house. If a hundred or two hundred thousand francs + were not a consideration, one ought to be able to obtain a favourable + decision from this honourable pauper who, sounded by Paganetti, would say + neither yes nor no, tempted by the large sum of money, held back by the + vainglory of his position. The matter had reached that point, it might be + decided from one day to another. + </p> + <p> + As for the cross, things were going still better. The Bethlehem Society + had assuredly made the devil of a noise at the Tuileries. They were now + only waiting until after the visit of M. de la Perriere and his report, + which could not be other than favorable, before inscribing on the list for + the 16th March, on the date of an imperial anniversary, the glorious name + of Jansoulet. The 16th March; that was to say, within a month. What would + the fat Hemerlingue find to say of this signal favour, he who for so long + had had to content himself with the Nisham? And the Bey, who had been + misled into believing that Jansoulet was cut by Parisian society, and the + old mother, down yonder at Saint-Romans, ever so happy in the successes of + her son! Was that not worth a few millions cleverly squandered along the + path of glory which the Nabob was treading like a child, all unconscious + of the fate that lay waiting to devour him at its end? And in these + external joys, these honours, this consideration so dearly bought, was + there not a compensation for all the troubles of this Oriental won back to + European life, who desired a home and possessed only a caravansary, looked + for a wife and found only a Levantine? + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0011" id="link2H_4_0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE BETHLEHEM SOCIETY + </h2> + <p> + BETHLEHEM! Why did it give one such a chill to see written in letters of + gold over the iron gate that historic name, sweet and warm like the straw + of the miraculous stable! Perhaps it was partly to be accounted for by the + melancholy of the landscape, that immense gloomy plain which stretches + from Nanterre to Saint Cloud, broken only by a few clumps of trees or the + smoke of factory chimneys. Possibly also by the disproportion that existed + between the humble little straggling village which you expected to find + and the grandiose establishment, this country mansion in the style of + Louis XIII, an agglomeration of mortar looking pink through the branches + of its leafless park, ornamented with wide pieces of water thick with + green weeds. What is certain is that as you passed this place your heart + was conscious of an oppression. When you entered it was still worse. A + heavy inexplicable silence weighed on the house, and the faces you might + see at the windows had a mournful air behind the little, old-fashioned + greenish panes. The goats scattered along the paths nibbled languidly at + the new spring grass, with “baas” at the woman who was tending them, and + looked bored, as she followed the visitors with a lack-lustre eye. A + mournfulness was over the place, like the terror of a contagion. Yet it + had been a cheerful house, and one where even recently there had been high + junketings. Replanted with timber for the famous singer who had sold it to + Jenkins, it revealed clearly the kind of imagination which is + characteristic of the opera-house in a bridge flung over the miniature + lake, with its broken punt half filled with mouldy leaves, and in its + pavilion all of rockery-work, garlanded by ivy. It had witnessed gay + scenes, this pavilion, in the singer’s time; now it looked on sad ones, + for the infirmary was installed in it. + </p> + <p> + To tell the truth, the whole establishment was one vast infirmary. The + children had hardly arrived when they fell ill, languished, and ended by + dying, if their parents did not quickly take them away and put them again + under the protection of home. The cure of Nanterre had to go so often to + Bethlehem with his black vestments and his silver cross, the undertaker + had so many orders from the house, that it became known in the district, + and indignant mothers shook their fists at the model nurse; from a long + way off, it is true, for they might chance to have in their arms + pink-and-white babies to be preserved from all the contagions of the + place. It was these things that gave to the poor place so heart-rending an + aspect. A house in which children die cannot be gay; you cannot see trees + break into flower there, birds building, streams flowing like rippling + laughter. + </p> + <p> + The thing seemed altogether false. Excellent in itself, Jenkins’s scheme + was difficult, almost impracticable in its application. Yet, God knows, + the affair had been started and carried out with the greatest enthusiasm + to the last details, with as much money and as large a staff as were + requisite. At its head, one of the most skilful of practitioners, M. + Pondevez, who had studied in the Paris hospitals; and by his side, to + attend to the more intimate needs of the children, a trusty matron, Mme. + Polge. Then there were nursemaids, seamstresses, infirmary-nurses. And how + many the arrangements and how thorough was the maintenance of the + establishment, from the water distributed by a regular system from fifty + taps to the omnibus trotting off with jingling of its posting bells to + meet every train of the day at Rueil station! Finally, magnificent goats, + Thibetan goats, silky, swollen with milk. In regard to organization, + everything was admirable; but there was a point where it all failed. This + artificial feeding, so greatly extolled by the advertisements, did not + agree with the children. It was a singular piece of obstinacy, a word + which seemed to have been passed between them by a signal, poor little + things! for they couldn’t yet speak, most of them indeed were never to + speak at all: “Please, we will not suck the goats.” And they did not suck + them, they preferred to die one after another rather than suck them. Was + Jesus of Bethlehem in his stable suckled by a goat? On the contrary, did + he not press a woman’s soft breast, on which he could go to sleep when he + was satisfied? Who ever saw a goat between the ox and the ass of the story + on that night when the beasts spoke to each other? Then why lie about it, + why call the place Bethlehem? + </p> + <p> + The director had been moved at first by the spectacle of so many victims. + This Pondevez, a waif of the life of the “Quarter,” mere student still + after twenty years, and well known in all the resorts of the Boulevard St. + Michel under the name of Pompon, was not an unkind man. When he perceived + the small success of the artificial feeding, he simply brought in four or + five vigorous nurses from the district around and the children’s appetites + soon returned. This humane impulse went near costing him his place. + </p> + <p> + “Nurses at Bethlehem!” said Jenkins, furious, when he came to pay his + weekly visit. “Are you out of your mind? Well! why then have we goats at + all, and meadows to pasture them; what becomes of my idea, and the + pamphlets upon my idea? What happens to all that? But you are going + against my system. You are stealing the founder’s money.” + </p> + <p> + “All the same, <i>mon cher maitre</i>,” the student tried to reply, + passing his hands through his long red beard, “all the same, they will not + take this nourishment.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, let them go without, but let the principle of artificial + lactation be respected. That is the whole point. I do not wish to have to + repeat it to you again. Send off these wretched nurses. For the rearing of + our children we have goats’ milk, cows’ milk in case of absolute + necessity. I can make no further concession in the matter.” + </p> + <p> + He added, with an assumption of his apostle’s air: “We are here for the + demonstration of a philanthropic idea. It must be made to triumph, even at + the price of some sacrifices.” + </p> + <p> + Pondevez insisted no further. After all the place was a good one, near + enough to Paris to allow of descents upon Nanterre of a Sunday from the + Quarter, or to allow the director to pay a visit to his old <i>brasseries</i>. + Mme. Polge, to whom Jenkins always referred as “our intelligent + superintendent,” and whom he had placed there to superintend everything, + and chiefly the director himself, was not so austere, as her prerogatives + might have led one to suppose, and submitted willingly to a few + liqueur-glasses of cognac or to a game of bezique. He dismissed the + nurses, therefore, and endeavoured to harden himself in advance to + everything that could happen. What did happen? A veritable Massacre of the + Innocents. Consequently the few parents in fairly easy circumstances, + workpeople or suburban tradesfolk, who, tempted by the advertisements, had + severed themselves from their children, very soon took them home again, + and there only remained in the establishment some little unfortunates + picked up on doorsteps or in out-of-the-way places, sent from the + foundling hospitals, doomed to all evil things from their birth. As the + mortality continued to increase, even these came to be scarce, and the + omnibus which had posted to the railway station would return bouncing and + light as an empty hearse. How long would the thing last? How long would + the twenty-five or thirty little ones who remained take to die? This was + what Monsieur the Director, or rather, to give him the nickname which he + had himself invented, Monsieur the Grantor-of-Certificates-of-death + Pondevez, was asking himself one morning as he sat opposite Mme. Polge’s + venerable ringlets, taking a hand in this lady’s favourite game. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, my good Mme. Polge, what is to become of us? Things cannot go on + much longer as they are. Jenkins will not give way; the children are as + obstinate as mules. There is no denying it, they will all slip through our + fingers. There is the little Wallachian—I mark the king, Mme. Polge—who + may die from one moment to another. Just think, the poor little chap for + the last three days has had nothing in his stomach. It is useless for + Jenkins to talk. You cannot improve children like snails by making them go + hungry. It is disheartening all the same not to be able to save one of + them. The infirmary is full. It is really a wretched outlook. Forty and + bezique.” + </p> + <p> + A double ring at the entrance gate interrupted his monologue. The omnibus + was returning from the railway station and its wheels were grinding on the + sand in an unusual manner. + </p> + <p> + “What an astonishing thing,” remarked Pondevez, “the conveyance is not + empty.” + </p> + <p> + Indeed it did draw up at the foot of the steps with a certain pride, and + the man who got out of it sprang up the staircase at a bound. He was a + courier from Jenkins bearing a great piece of news. The doctor would + arrive in two hours to visit the Home, accompanied by the Nabob and a + gentleman from the Tuileries. He urgently enjoined that everything should + be ready for their reception. The thing had been decided at such short + notice that he had not had the time to write; but he counted on M. + Pondevez to do all that was necessary. + </p> + <p> + “That is good!—necessary!” murmured Pondevez in complete dismay. The + situation was critical. This important visit was occurring at the worst + possible moment, just as the system had utterly broken down. The poor + Pompon, exceedingly perplexed, tugged at his beard, thoughtfully gnawing + wisps of it. + </p> + <p> + “Come,” said he suddenly to Mme. Polge, whose long face had grown still + longer between her ringlets, “we have only one course to take. We must + remove the infirmary and carry all the sick into the dormitory. They will + be neither better nor worse for passing another half-day there. As for + those with the rash, we will put them out of the way in some corner. They + are too ugly, they must not be seen. Come along, you up there! I want + every one on the bridge.” + </p> + <p> + The dinner-bell being violently rung, immediately hurried steps are heard. + Seamstresses, infirmary-nurses, servants, goatherds, issue from all + directions, running, jostling each other across the court-yards. Others + fly about, cries, calls; but that which dominates is the noise of a mighty + cleansing, a streaming of water as though Bethlehem had been suddenly + attacked by fire. And those groanings of sick children snatched from the + warmth of their beds, all those little screaming bundles carried across + the damp park, their coverings fluttering through the branches, powerfully + complete the impression of a fire. At the end of two hours, thanks to a + prodigious activity, the house is ready from top to bottom for the visit + which it is about to receive, all the staff at their posts, the stove + lighted, the goats picturesquely sprinkled over the park. Mme. Polge has + donned her green silk dress, the director a costume somewhat less <i>neglige</i> + than usual, but of which the simplicity excluded all idea of + premeditation. The Departmental Secretary may come. + </p> + <p> + And here he is. + </p> + <p> + He alights with Jenkins and Jansoulet from a splendid coach with the red + and gold livery of the Nabob. Feigning the deepest astonishment, Pondevez + rushes forward to meet his visitors. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, M. Jenkins, what an honour! What a surprise!” + </p> + <p> + Greetings are exchanged on the flight of steps, bows, shakings of hands, + introductions. Jenkins with his flowing overcoat wide open over his loyal + breast, beams his best and most cordial smile; there is a significant + wrinkle on his brow, however. He is uneasy about the surprises which may + be held in store for them by the establishment, of the distressful + condition of which he is better aware than any one. If only Pondevez had + taken proper precautions. Things begin well, at any rate. The rather + theatrical view from the entrance, of those white fleeces frisking about + among the bushes, have enchanted M. de la Perriere, who himself, with his + honest eyes, his little white beard, and the continual nodding of his + head, resembles a goat escaped from its tether. + </p> + <p> + “In the first place, gentlemen, the apartment of principal importance in + the house, the nursery,” said the director, opening a massive door at the + end of the entrance-hall. His guests follow him, go down a few steps and + find themselves in an immense, low room, with a tiled floor, formerly the + kitchen of the mansion. The most striking object on entering is a lofty + and vast fireplace built on the antique model, of red brick, with two + stone benches opposite one another beneath the chimney, and the singer’s + coat of arms—an enormous lyre barred with a roll of music—carved + on the monumental pediment. The effect is startling; but a frightful + draught comes from it, which joined to the coldness of the tile floor and + the dull light admitted by the little windows on a level with the ground, + may well terrify one for the health of the children. But what was do be + done? The nursery had to be installed in this insalubrious spot on account + of the sylvan and capricious nurses, accustomed to the unconstraint of the + stable. You only need to notice the pools of milk, the great reddish + puddles drying up on the tiles, to breathe in the strong odour that meets + you as you enter, a mingling of whey, of wet hair, and of many other + things besides, in order to be convinced of the absolute necessity of this + arrangement. + </p> + <p> + The gloomy-walled apartment is so large that to the visitors at first the + nursery seems to be deserted. However, at the farther end, a group of + creatures, bleating, moaning, moving about, is soon distinguished. Two + peasant women, hard and brutalized in appearance, with dirty faces, two + “dry-nurses,” who well deserve the name, are seated on mats, each with an + infant in her arms and a big nanny-goat in front of her, offering its + udder with legs parted. The director seems pleasantly surprised. + </p> + <p> + “Truly, gentlemen, this is lucky. Two of our children are having their + little luncheon. We shall see how well the nurses and infants understand + each other.” + </p> + <p> + “What can he be doing? He is mad,” said Jenkins to himself in + consternation. + </p> + <p> + But the director on the contrary knows very well what he is doing and has + himself skilfully arranged the scene, selecting two patient and gentle + beasts and two exceptional subjects, two little desperate mortals who want + to live at any price and open their mouths to swallow, no matter what + food, like young birds still in the nest. + </p> + <p> + “Come nearer, gentlemen, and observe.” + </p> + <p> + Yes, they are indeed sucking, these little cherubs! One of them, lying + close to the ground, squeezed up under the belly of the goat, is going at + it so heartily that you can hear the gurglings of the warm milk + descending, it would seem, even into the little limbs that kick with + satisfaction at the meal. The other, calmer, lying down indolently, + requires some little encouragement from his Auvergnoise attendant. + </p> + <p> + “Suck, will you suck then, you little rogue!” And at length, as though he + had suddenly come to a decision, he begins to drink with such avidity that + the woman leans over to him, surprised by this extraordinary appetite, and + exclaims laughing: + </p> + <p> + “Ah, the rascal, is he not cunning?—it is his thumb that he is + sucking instead of the goat.” + </p> + <p> + The angel has hit on that expedient so that he may be left in peace. The + incident does not create a bad impression. M. de la Perriere is much + amused by this notion of the nurse that the child was trying to take them + all in. He leaves the nursery, delighted. “Positively de-e-elighted,” he + repeats, nodding his head as they ascend the great staircase with its + echoing walls decorated with the horns of stags, leading to the dormitory. + </p> + <p> + Very bright, very airy, is this vast room, running the whole length of one + side of the house, with numerous windows and cots, separated one from + another by a little distance, hung with fleecy white curtains like clouds. + Women go and come through the large arch in the centre, with piles of + linen on their arms, or keys in their hands, nurses with the special duty + of washing the babies. + </p> + <p> + Here too much has been attempted and the first impression of the visitors + is a bad one. All this whiteness of muslin, this polished parquet, the + brightness of the window-panes reflecting the sky sad at beholding these + things, seem to throw into bold relief the thinness, the unhealthy pallor + of these dying little ones, already the colour of their shrouds. Alas! the + oldest are only aged some six months, the youngest barely a fortnight, and + already there is in all these faces, these faces in embryo, a disappointed + expression, a scowling, worn look, a suffering precocity visible in the + numerous lines on those little bald foreheads, cramped by linen caps edged + with poor, narrow hospital lace. What are they suffering? What diseases + can they have? They have everything, everything that one can have: + diseases of children and diseases of men. The fruit of vice and poverty, + they bring into the world hideous phenomena of heredity at their very + birth. This one has a perforated palate, and this great copper-coloured + patches on the forehead, all of them rickety. Then they are dying of + hunger. Notwithstanding the spoonfuls of milk, of sweetened water, which + are forced down their throats, notwithstanding the feeding-bottle employed + now and then, though against orders, they perish of inanition. These + little creatures, worn out before birth, require the most tender and the + most strengthening food; the goats might perhaps be able to give it, but + apparently they have sworn not to suck the goats. And this is what makes + the dormitory mournful and silent, not one of those little clinched-fisted + tempers, one of those cries showing the pink and firm gums in which the + child makes trial of his lungs and strength; only a plaintive moaning, as + it were the disquiet of a soul that turns over and over in a little sick + body, without being able to find a comfortable place to rest there. + </p> + <p> + Jenkins and the director, who have seen the bad impression produced on + their guests by this inspection of the dormitory, try to put a little life + into the situation, talk very loudly in a good-natured, complacent, + satisfied way. Jenkins shakes hands warmly with the superintendent. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Mme. Polge, and how are our little nurslings getting on?” + </p> + <p> + “As you see, M. le Docteur,” she replies, pointing to the beds. + </p> + <p> + This tall Mme. Polge is funereal in her green dress, the ideal of + dry-nurses. She completes the picture. + </p> + <p> + But where has Monsieur the Departmental Secretary gone? He has stopped + before a cot which he examines sadly, as he stands nodding his head. + </p> + <p> + “<i>Bigre de bigre!</i>” says Pompon in a low voice to Mme. Polge. “It is + the Wallachian.” + </p> + <p> + The little blue placard hung over the cot, as in the foundling hospitals, + states the child’s nationality: “Moldo, Wallachian.” What a piece of + ill-luck that Monsieur the Secretary’s attention should have been + attracted to that particular child! Oh, that poor little head lying on the + pillow, its linen cap askew, with pinched nostrils, and mouth half opened + by a quick, panting respiration, the breathing of the newly born, of those + also who are about to die. + </p> + <p> + “Is he ill?” asked Monsieur the Secretary softly of the director, who has + come up to him. + </p> + <p> + “Not the least in the world,” the shameless Pompon replies, and, advancing + to the side of the cot, he tries to make the little one laugh by tickling + him with his finger, straightens the pillow, and says in a hearty voice, + somewhat overcharged with tenderness: “Well, old fellow?” Shaken out of + his torpor, escaping for a moment from the shades which already are + closing on him, the child opens his eyes on those faces leaning over him, + glances at them with a gloomy indifference, then, returning to his dream + which he finds more interesting, clinches his little wrinkled hands and + heaves an elusive sigh. Mystery! Who shall say for what end that baby had + been born into life? To suffer for two months and to depart without having + seen anything, understood anything, without any one even knowing the sound + of his voice. + </p> + <p> + “How pale he is!” murmurs M. de la Perriere, very pale himself. The Nabob + is livid also. A cold breath seems to have passed over the place. The + director assumes an air of unconcern. + </p> + <p> + “It is the reflection. We are all of us green here.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes, that is so,” remarks Jenkins, “it is the reflection of the + lake. Come and look, Monsieur the Secretary.” And he draws him to the + window to point out to him the large sheet of water with its dipping + willows, while Mme. Polge makes haste to draw over the eternal dream of + the little Wallachian the parted curtains of his cradle. + </p> + <p> + The inspection of the establishment must be continued very quickly in + order to destroy this unfortunate impression. + </p> + <p> + To begin with, M. de la Perriere is shown a splendid laundry, with stoves, + drying-rooms, thermometers, immense presses of polished walnut, full of + babies’ caps and frocks, labelled and tied up in dozens. When the linen + has been warmed, the linen-room maid passes it out through a little door + in exchange for the number left by the nurse. A perfect order reigns, one + can see, and everything, down to its healthy smell of soap-suds, gives to + this apartment a wholesome and rural aspect. There is clothing here for + five hundred children. That is the number which Bethlehem can accommodate, + and everything has been arranged upon a corresponding scale; the vast + pharmacy, glittering with bottles and Latin inscriptions, pestles and + mortars of marble in every corner, the hydropathic installation, its large + rooms built of stone, with gleaming baths possessing a huge apparatus + including pipes of all dimensions for douches, upward and downward, spray, + jet, or whip-lash, and the kitchens adorned with superb kettles of copper, + and with economical coal and gas ovens. Jenkins wished to institute a + model establishment; and he found the thing easy, for the work was done on + a large scale, as it can be when funds are not lacking. You feel also over + it all the experience and the iron hand of “our intelligent + superintendent,” to whom the director cannot refrain from paying a public + tribute. This is the signal for general congratulations. M. de la + Perriere, delighted with the manner in which the establishment is + equipped, congratulates Dr. Jenkins upon his fine creations, Jenkins + compliments his friend Pondevez, who, in his turn, thanks the Departmental + secretary for having consented to honour Bethlehem with a visit. The good + Nabob makes his voice heard in this chorus of eulogy, finds a kind word + for each one, but is a little surprised all the same that he has not been + congratulated himself, since they were about it. It is true that the best + of congratulations awaits him on the 16th March on the front page of the + <i>Official Journal</i> in a decree which flames in advance before his + eyes and makes him glance every now and then at his buttonhole. + </p> + <p> + These pleasant words are exchanged as the party passes along a big + corridor in which the voices ring out in all their honest accents; but + suddenly a frightful noise interrupts the conversation and the advance of + the visitors. It seems to be made up of the mewing of cats in delirium, of + bellowings, of the howlings of savages performing a war-dance, an + appalling tempest of human cries, reverberated, swelled, and prolonged by + the echoing vaults. It rises and falls, ceases suddenly, then goes on + again with an extraordinary effect of unanimity. + </p> + <p> + Monsieur the Director begins to be uneasy, makes an inquiry. Jenkins rolls + furious eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Let us go on,” says the director, rather anxious this time. “I know what + it is.” + </p> + <p> + He knows what it is; but M. de la Perriere wishes to know also what it is, + and, before Pondevez has had the time to unfasten it, he pushes open the + massive door whence this horrible concert proceeds. + </p> + <p> + In a sordid kennel which the great cleansing has passed over, for, in + fact, it was not intended to be exhibited, on mattresses ranged on the + floor, a dozen little wretches are laid, watched over by an empty chair on + which the beginning of a knitted vest lies with an air of dignity, and by + a little broken saucepan, full of hot wine, boiling on a smoky wood fire. + These are the children with ringworm, with rashes, the disfavoured of + Bethlehem, who had been hidden in this retired corner with recommendation + to their dry-nurse to rock them, to soothe them, to sit on them, if need + were, in order to keep them from crying; but whom this country-woman, + stupid and inquisitive, had left alone there in order to see the fine + carriage standing in the court-yard. Her back turned, the infants had very + quickly grown weary of their horizontal position; and then all these + little scrofulous patients raised their lusty concert, for they, by a + miracle, are strong, their malady saves and nourishes them. Bewildered and + kicking like beetles when they are turned on their backs, helping + themselves with their hips and their elbows, some fallen on one side and + unable to regain their balance, others raising in the air their little + benumbed, swaddled legs, spontaneously they cease their gesticulations and + cries as they see the door open; but M. de la Perrier’s nodding goatee + beard reassures them, encourages them anew, and in the renewed tumult the + explanation given by the director is only heard with difficulty: “Children + kept separate—Contagion—Skin-diseases.” This is quite enough + for Monsieur the Departmental Secretary; less heroic than Bonaparte on his + visit to the plague-stricken of Jaffa, he hastens towards the door, and in + his timid anxiety, wishing to say something and yet not finding words, + murmurs with an ineffable smile: “They are char-ar-ming.” + </p> + <p> + Next, the inspection at an end, see them all gathered in the salon on the + ground floor, where Mme. Polge has prepared a little luncheon. The cellar + of Bethlehem is well stocked. The keen air of the table-land, these climbs + up and downstairs have given the old gentleman from the Tuileries an + appetite such as he has not known for a long time, so that he chats and + laughs as if he were at a picnic, and at the moment of departure, as they + are all standing, raises his glass, nodding his head, to drink, “To + Be-Be-Bethlehem!” Those present are moved, glasses are touched, then, at a + quick trot, the carriage bears the party away down the long avenue of + limes, over which a red and cold sun is just setting. Behind them the park + resumes its dismal silence. Great dark masses gather in the depths of the + copses, surround the house, gain little by little the paths and open + spaces. Soon all is lost in gloom save the ironical letters embossed above + the entrance-gate, and, away over yonder, at a first-floor window, one red + and wavering spot, the light of a candle burning by the pillow of the dead + child. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “By a decree dated the 12th March, 1865, issued upon the proposal + of the Minister of the Interior, Monsieur the Doctor Jenkins, + President and Founder of the Bethlehem Society is named a + Chevalier of the Imperial Order of the Legion of Honour. Great + devotion to the cause of humanity.” + </pre> + <p> + As he read these words on the front page of the <i>Official Journal</i>, + on the morning of the 16th, the poor Nabob felt dazed. + </p> + <p> + Was it possible? + </p> + <p> + Jenkins decorated, and not he! + </p> + <p> + He read the paragraph twice over, distrusting his own eyes. His ears + buzzed. The letters danced double before his eyes with those great red + rings round them which they have in strong sunlight. He had been so + confident of seeing his name in this place; Jenkins, only the evening + before, had repeated to him with so much assurance, “It is already done!” + that he still thought his eyes must have deceived him. But no, it was + indeed Jenkins. The blow was heavy, deep, prophetic, as it were a first + warning from destiny, and one that was felt all the more intensely because + for years this man had been unaccustomed to failure. Everything good in + him learned mistrust at the same time. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said he to de Gery as he came as usual every morning into his + room, and found him visibly affected, holding the newspaper in his hand, + “have you seen? I am not in the <i>Official</i>.” + </p> + <p> + He tried to smile, his features puckered like those of a child restraining + his tears. Then, suddenly, with that frankness which was such a pleasing + quality in him: “It is a great disappointment to me. I was looking forward + to it too confidently.” + </p> + <p> + The door opened upon these words, and Jenkins rushed in, out of breath, + stammering, extraordinarily agitated. + </p> + <p> + “It is an infamy, a frightful infamy! The thing cannot be, it shall not + be!” + </p> + <p> + The words stumbled over each other in disorder on his lips, all trying to + get out at once; then he seemed to despair of finding expression for his + thoughts and in disgust threw on the table a small box and a large + envelope, both bearing the stamp of the chancellor’s office. + </p> + <p> + “There are my cross and my brevet. They are yours, friend. I could not + keep them.” + </p> + <p> + At bottom the words did not signify much. Jansoulet adorning himself with + Jenkins’s ribbon might very well have been guilty of illegality. But a + piece of theatrical business is not necessarily logical; this one brought + about between the two men an effusion of feeling, embraces, a generous + battle, at the end of which Jenkins replaced the objects in his pocket, + speaking of protests, letters to the newspapers. The Nabob was again + obliged to check him. + </p> + <p> + “Be very careful you do no such thing. To begin with, it would be to + injure my chances for another time—who knows, perhaps on the 15th of + August, which will soon be here.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, as to that,” said Jenkins, jumping at this idea, and stretching out + his arm as in the <i>Oath</i> of David, “I solemnly swear it.” + </p> + <p> + The matter was dropped at this point. At luncheon the Nabob was as gay as + usual. This good humour was maintained all day, and de Gery, for whom the + scene had been a revelation of the true Jenkins, the explanation of the + ironies and the restrained wrath of Felicia Ruys whenever she spoke of the + doctor, asked himself in vain how he could enlighten his dear patron about + such hypocrisy. He should have been aware, however, that in southerners, + with all their superficiality and effusion, there is no blindness, no + enthusiasm, so complete as to remain insensible before the wisdom of + reflection. In the evening the Nabob had opened a shabby little + letter-case, worn at the corners, in which for ten years he had been + accustomed to work out the calculations of his millions, writing down in + hieroglyphics understood only by himself his receipts and expenditures. He + buried himself in his accounts for a moment, then turning to de Gery: + </p> + <p> + “Do you know what I am doing, my dear Paul?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “No, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “I am just calculating”—and his mocking glance thoroughly + characteristic of his race, rallied the good nature of his smile—“I + am just calculating that I have spend four hundred and thirty thousand + francs to get a decoration for Jenkins.” + </p> + <p> + Four hundred and thirty thousand francs! And that was not the end. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0012" id="link2H_4_0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + BONNE MAMAN + </h2> + <p> + Paul de Gery went three times a week in the evening to take his lesson in + bookkeeping in the Joyeuses’ dining-room, not far from that little parlour + in which he had seen the family the first day, and while with his eyes + fixed on his teacher he was being initiated into all the mysteries of + “debtor and creditor,” he used to listen, in spite of himself, for the + light sounds coming from the industrious group behind the door, with + thoughts dwelling regretfully on the vision of all those pretty brows bent + in the lamplight. M. Joyeuse never said a word of his daughters; jealous + of their charms as a dragon watching over beautiful princesses in a tower, + and excited by the fantastic imaginings of his excessive affection for + them, he would answer with marked brevity the inquiries of his pupil + regarding the health of “the young ladies,” so that at last the young man + ceased to mention them. + </p> + <p> + He was surprised, however, at not once seeing that Bonne Maman whose name + was constantly recurring in the conversation of M. Joyeuse, entering into + the least details of his existence, hovering over the household like the + emblem of its perfect ordering and of its peace. + </p> + <p> + So great a reserve on the part of a venerable lady who must assuredly have + passed the age at which the interest of young men is to be feared, seemed + to him exaggerated. The lessons, however, were good ones, given with great + clearness, the teacher having an excellent system of demonstration, and + only one fault, that of becoming absorbed in silences, broken by sudden + starts and exclamations let off like rockets. Apart from this, he was the + best of masters, intelligent, patient, and conscientious, and Paul learned + to know his way through the complex labyrinth of commercial books and + resigned himself to ask nothing beyond. + </p> + <p> + One evening, towards nine o’clock, as the young man had risen to go, M. + Joyeuse asked him if he would do him the honour of taking a cup of tea + with his family, a custom dating from the time when Mme. Joyeuse, <i>nee</i> + de Saint-Amand, was alive, she having been used to receive her friends on + Thursdays. Since her death and the change in the financial position, the + friends had become dispersed; but his little weekly function had been kept + up. + </p> + <p> + Paul having accepted, the good old fellow opened the door and called: + </p> + <p> + “Bonne Maman!” + </p> + <p> + An alert footstep in the passage, and immediately the face of a girl of + twenty, in a halo of abundant brown hair, made its appearance. + </p> + <p> + De Gery, stupefied, looked at M. Joyeuse. + </p> + <p> + “Bonne Maman?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it is a name that we gave her when she was a little girl. With her + frilled cap, her authority as the eldest child, she had a quaint little + air. We thought her like her grandmother. The name has clung to her.” + </p> + <p> + From the honest fellow’s tone as he spoke thus, one felt that to him this + grandparent’s title applied to such an embodiment of attractive youth + seemed the most natural thing in the world. Every one else thought as he + did on the point; both her sisters, who had hastened to their father’s + side, grouping themselves round him somewhat as in the portrait exhibited + in the window on the ground floor, and the old servant who placed on the + table in the little drawing-room a magnificent tea-service, a relic of the + former splendours of the household. Every one called the girl “Bonne + Maman” without her ever once having grown tired of it, the influence of + that sacred title touching the affection of each one with a deference + which flattered her and gave to her ideal authority a singular gentleness + of protection. + </p> + <p> + Whether or not it were by reason of this appellation of grandmother which + as a child he had learned to reverence, de Gery felt an inexpressible + attraction towards this young girl. It was not like the sudden shock which + he had received from that other, that emotional agitation in which were + mingled the desire to flee, to escape from a possession and the persistent + melancholy of the morrow of a festivity, extinguished candles, the lost + refrains of songs, perfumes vanished into the night. In the presence of + this young girl as she stood superintending the family table, seeing if + anything were wanting, enveloping her children, her grandchildren, with + the active tenderness of her eyes, there came to him a longing to know + her, to be counted among her old friends, to confide to her things which + he confessed only to himself; and when she offered him his cup of tea + without any of the mincings of society or drawing-room affectations, he + would have liked to say with the rest a “Thank you, Bonne Maman,” in which + he would have put all his heart. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly, a cheerful knock at the door made everybody start. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, here comes M. Andre. Elise, a cup quickly. Jaia, the little cakes.” + At the same time, Mlle. Henriette, the third of M. Joyeuse’s daughters, + who had inherited from her mother, <i>nee</i> de Saint-Amand, a certain + instinct for society, observing the number of visitors who seemed likely + to crowd their rooms that evening, rushed to light the two candles on the + piano. + </p> + <p> + “My fifth act is finished,” cried the newcomer as he entered, then he + stopped short. “Ah, pardon,” and his face assumed a rather discomfited + expression in the presence of the stranger. M. Joyeuse introduced them to + each other: “M. Paul de Gery—M. Andre Maranne,” not without a + certain solemnity. He remembered the receptions held formerly by his wife, + and the vases on the chimneypiece, the two large lamps, the what-not; the + easy chairs grouped in a circle had an air of joining in this illusion, + and seemed more brilliant by reason of this unaccustomed throng. + </p> + <p> + “So your play is finished?” + </p> + <p> + “Finished, M. Joyeuse, and I hope to read it to you one of these + evenings.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, M. Andre. Oh, yes,” said all the girls in chorus. + </p> + <p> + Their neighbour was in the habit of writing for the stage, and no one here + doubted of his success. Photography, in any case, promised fewer profits. + Clients were very rare, passers-by little disposed to business. To keep + his hand in and to save his new apparatus from rusting, M. Andre was + accustomed to practise anew on the family of his friends on each + succeeding Sunday. They lent themselves to his experiments with unequalled + long-suffering; the prosperity of this suburban photographer’s business + was for them all an affair of <i>amour propre</i>, and awakened, even in + the girls, that touching confraternity of feeling which draws together the + destinies of people as insignificant in importance as sparrows on a roof. + Andre Maranne, with the inexhaustible resources of his great brow full of + illusion, used to explain without bitterness the indifference of the + public. Sometimes the season was unfavourable, or, again, people were + complaining of the bad state of business generally, and he would always + end with the same consoling reflection, “When <i>Revolt</i> is produced!” + That was the title of his play. + </p> + <p> + “It is surprising all the same,” said the fourth of M. Joyeuse’s + daughters, twelve years old, with her hair in a pigtail, “it is surprising + that with such a good balcony so little business should result.” + </p> + <p> + “And, if he were established on the Boulevard des Italiens,” remarks M. + Joyeuse thoughtfully, and he is launched forth!—riding his chimera + till it is brought to the ground suddenly with a gesture and these words + uttered sadly: “Closed on account of bankruptcy.” In the space of a moment + the terrible visionary has just installed his friend in splendid quarters + on the Boulevard, where he gains enormous sums of money, at the same time, + however, increasing his expenditure to so disproportionate an extent that + a fearful failure in a few months engulfs both photographer and his + photography. They laugh heartily when he gives this explanation; but all + agree that the Rue Saint-Ferdinand, although less brilliant, is much more + to be depended upon than the Boulevard des Italiens. Besides, it happens + to be quite near the Bois de Boulogne, and if once the fashionable world + got into the way of passing through it—That exalted society which + was so much sought by her mother, is Mlle. Henriette’s fixed idea, and she + is astonished that the thought of receiving “le high-life” in his little + apartment on the fifth floor makes their neighbour laugh. The other week, + however, a carriage with livery had called on him. Only just now, too, he + had a very “swell” visit. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, quite a great lady!” interrupts Bonne Maman. “We were at the window + on the lookout for father. We saw her alight from her carriage and look at + the show-frame; we made sure that her visit was for you.” + </p> + <p> + “It was for me,” said Andre, a little embarrassed. + </p> + <p> + “For a moment we were afraid that she was going to pass on like so many + others, on account of your five flights of stairs. So all four of us tried + to attract her without her knowing it, by the magnetism of our four + staring pairs of eyes. We drew her gently by the feathers of her hat and + the laces of her cape. ‘Come up then, madame, come up,’ and finally she + entered. There is so much magnetism in eyes that are kindly disposed.” + </p> + <p> + Magnetism she certainly had, the dear creature, not only in her glances, + indeterminate of colour, veiled or gay like the sky of her Paris, but in + her voice, in the draping of her dress, in everything about her, even to + the long curl, falling over the neck erect and delicate as a statue’s. + </p> + <p> + Tea having been served, while the gentlemen finished their cups and talked—old + Joyeuse was always very long over everything he did, by reason of his + sudden expeditions to the moon—the girls brought out their work, the + table became covered with wicker baskets, embroideries, pretty wools that + rejuvenated with their bright tints the faded flowers of the old carpet, + and the group of the other evening gathered once more within the bright + circle defined by the lamp-shade, to the great satisfaction of Paul de + Gery. It was the first evening of the kind that he had spent in Paris; it + recalled to him others of a like sort very far away, lulled by the same + innocent laughter, the peaceful sound produced by scissors as they are put + down on the table, by a needle as it pierces through linen, or the rustle + of a page turned over, and dear faces, disappeared for ever, gathered also + around the family lamp, alas! so abruptly extinguished. + </p> + <p> + Having been admitted to this charming intimacy, he remained in it, took + his lessons in the presence of the girls and was encouraged to chat with + them when the good old man closed his big book. Here everything rested him + after the whirl of that life into which he was thrown by the luxurious + social existence of the Nabob; he come to renew his strength in this + atmosphere of honesty, of simplicity, tried, too, to find healing there + for the wounds with which a hand more indifferent than cruel stabbed his + heart mercilessly. + </p> + <p> + “Some women have hated me, other women have loved me. She who has hurt me + most never either loved or hated me.” Paul had met that woman of whom + Henri Heine speaks. Felicia was full of welcome and cordiality for him. + There was no one whom she treated with more favour. She used to reserve + for him a special smile wherein one felt the kindliness of an artist’s eye + arrested by and dwelling on a pleasing type, and the satisfaction of a + jaded mind amused by anything new, however simple in appearance it may be. + She liked that reserve, suggestive in a southerner, the honesty of that + judgment, independent of every artistic or social formula and enlivened by + a touch of provincial accent. These things were a change for her from the + zigzag stroke of the thumb illustrating a eulogy with its gesture of the + studio, from the compliments of comrades on the way in which she would + snub some old fellow, or again from those affected admirations, from the + “char-ar-ming, very nice indeed’s” with which young men about town, + sucking the knobs of their canes, were accustomed to regale her. This + young man at any rate did not say such things as that to her. She had + nicknamed him Minerva, on account of his apparent tranquility and the + regularity of his profile; and the moment she saw him, however far-off, + she would call: + </p> + <p> + “Ah, here comes Minerva. Hail, beautiful Minerva! Put down your helmet and + let us have a chat.” + </p> + <p> + But this familiar, almost fraternal, tone convinced the young man that he + would make no further advance into that feminine comradeship in which + tenderness was wanting, and that he lost each day something of his charm—the + charm of the unforeseen—in the eyes of that woman born weary, who + seemed to have already lived her life and found in all that she heard or + saw the insipidity of a repetition. Felicia was bored. Her art alone could + distract her, carry her away, transport her into a dazzling fairyland, + whence she would fall back worn out, surprised each time by this awakening + like a physical fall. She used to draw a comparison between herself and + those jelly-fish whose transparent brilliancy, so much alive in the cool + movements of the waves, drift to their death on the shore in little + gelatinous pools. During those times devoid of inspiration, when the + artist’s hand was heavy on his instrument, Felicia, deprived of the one + moral support of her intellectual being, became unsociable, + unapproachable, a tormenting mocker—the revenge taken of human + weakness on the tired brains of genius. After having brought tears to the + eyes of every one who cared for her, raking up painful recollections or + enervating anxieties, she reached the lowest depths of her fatigue, and as + there was always some fun in her, even in her <i>ennui</i> in a kind of + caged wild-beast’s howl, which she called “the cry of the jackal in the + desert,” and which used to make the good Crenmitz turn pale. + </p> + <p> + Poor Felicia! That life of hers was indeed a frightful desert when art did + not beguile it with its illusions; a desert mournful and flat, where + everything was lost, reduced to one level, beneath the same monotonous + immensity, the naive love of a child of twenty, a passionate duke’s + caprice, in which all was overwhelmed by an arid sand driven by blasting + fates. Paul was conscious of that void, desired to escape it; but + something held him back, like a weight which unrolls a chain, and in spite + of the calumnies he heard, and notwithstanding the odd whims of the + strange creature, he dallied deliciously after her, at the price of + bearing away with him from this long lover’s contemplation only the + despair of a believer reduced to the adoring of images alone. + </p> + <p> + The refuge lay down there, in that remote quarter of the town where the + wind blew so hard, yet without preventing the flame from mounting white + and straight—it was the family circle presided over by Bonne Maman. + Oh! she at least was not bored, she never uttered the cry of the “jackal + in the desert.” Her life was far too full; the father to encourage, to + sustain, the children to teach, all the material cares of a home where the + mother’s hand is wanting, those preoccupations that awake with the dawn + and are put to sleep by the evening, unless indeed it bring them back in + dream, one of those devotions, tireless but without apparent effort, very + pleasant for poor human egotism, because they dispense from all gratitude + and hardly make themselves felt, so light is their hand. She was not the + courageous daughter who works to support her parents, gives private + lessons from morning to night, forgets in the excitement of a profession + all the troubles of the household. No, she had understood her task in a + different sense, a sedentary bee restricting her cares to the hive, + without once humming out of doors in the open air among the flowers. A + thousand functions: tailoress, milliner, mender of clothes, bookkeeper + also for M. Joyeuse, who, incapable of all responsibility, left to her the + free disposal of their means, to be pianoforte-teacher, governess. + </p> + <p> + As it happens in families that have been in a good position, Aline, as the + eldest daughter, had been educated at one of the best boarding-schools in + Paris. Elise had been with her there for two years; but the last two, born + too late, and sent to small day-schools in the locality, had all their + studies yet to complete, and this was no easy matter, the youngest + laughing upon every occasion from sheer good health, warbling like a lark + intoxicated with the delight of green corn, and flying away far out of + sight of desk and exercises, while Mlle. Henriette, ever haunted by her + ideas of grandeur, her love of luxurious things, took to work hardly less + unwillingly. This young person of fifteen, to whom her father had + transmitted something of his imaginative faculties, was already arranging + her life in advance and declared formally that she should marry one of the + nobility, and would never have more than three children: “A boy to inherit + the name and two little girls—so as to be able to dress them alike.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, that’s right,” Bonne Maman would say, “you shall dress them alike. + In the meantime, let us attend to our participles a little.” + </p> + <p> + But the one who caused the most concern was Elise, with her examination + taken thrice without success, always failing in history and preparing + herself anew, seized by a deep fear and a mistrust of herself which made + her carry about with her everywhere and open every moment that unfortunate + history of France, in the omnibus, in the street, even at the + luncheon-table; she was already a grown girl and very pretty, and she no + longer possessed that little mechanical memory of childhood wherein dates + and events lodge themselves for the whole of one’s life. Beset by other + preoccupations, the lesson was forgotten in an instant, despite the + apparent application of the pupil, with her long lashes fringing her eyes, + her curls sweeping over the pages, and her rosy mouth animated by a little + quiver of attention, repeating ten times in succession: “Louis, surnamed + le Hutin, 1314-1316; Philip V, surnamed the Long, 1316-1322. Ah, Bonne + Maman, it’s no good; I shall never know them.” Whereupon Bonne Maman would + come to her assistance, help her to concentrate her attention, to store up + a few of those dates of the Middle Ages, barbarous and sharp as the + helmets of the warriors of the period. And in the intervals of these + occupations, of this general and constant superintendence, she yet found + time to do some pretty needlework, to extract from her work-basket some + delicate crochet lace or a piece of tapestry on which she was engaged and + to which she clung as closely as the young Elise to her history of France. + Even when she talked, her fingers never remained unoccupied for a moment. + </p> + <p> + “Do you never take any rest?” said de Gery to her, as she counted under + her breath the stitches of her tapestry, “three, four, five,” to secure + the right variation in the shading of the colours. + </p> + <p> + “But this is a rest from work,” she answered. “You men cannot understand + how good needlework is for a woman’s mind. It gives order to the thoughts, + fixes by a stitch the moment that passes what would otherwise pass with + it. And how many griefs are calmed, anxieties forgotten, thanks to this + wholly physical act of attention, to this repetition of an even movement, + in which one finds—of necessity and very quickly—the + equilibrium of one’s whole being. It does not hinder me from following the + conversation around me, from listening to you still better than I should + if I were doing something. Three, four, five.” + </p> + <p> + Oh, yes, she listened. That was apparent in the animation of her face, in + the way in which she would suddenly straighten herself as she sat, needle + in air, the thread taut over her raised little finger. Then she would + quickly resume her work, sometimes after putting in a thoughtful word, + which agreed generally with the opinions of friend Paul. + </p> + <p> + An affinity of nature, responsibilities and duties similar in character, + drew these two young people together, interested each of them in the + other’s occupations. She knew the names of his two brothers Pierre and + Louis, his plans for their future when they should have left school. + Pierre wanted to be a sailor. “Oh, no, not a sailor,” Bonne Maman would + say, “it will be much better for him to come to Paris with you.” And when + he admitted that he was afraid of Paris for them, she laughed at his + fears, called him provincial, full of affection for the city in which she + had been born, in which she had grown to chaste young womanhood, and that + gave her in return those vivacities, those natural refinements, that + jesting good-humour which incline one to believe that Paris, with its + rain, its fogs, its sky which is no sky, is the veritable fatherland of + woman, whose nerves it heals gently and whose qualities of intelligence + and patience it develops. + </p> + <p> + Each day Paul de Gery came to appreciate Mlle. Aline better—he was + the only person in the house who so called her—and, strange + circumstance, it was Felicia who completed the cementing of their + intimacy. What relations could there exist between the artist’s daughter, + moving in the highest spheres, and this little middle-class girl buried in + the depths of a suburb? Relations of childhood and of friendship, common + recollections, the great court-yard of the Institution Belin, where they + had played together for three years. Paris is full of these + juxtapositions. A name uttered by chance in the course of a conversation + brought out suddenly the bewildered question: + </p> + <p> + “You know her then?” + </p> + <p> + “Do I know Felicia? Why, our desks were next each other in the first form. + We had the same garden. Such a nice girl, and so handsome and clever!” + </p> + <p> + And, observing the pleasure with which she was listened to, Aline used to + recall the times which already formed a past for her, seductive and + melancholy like all pasts. She was very much alone in life, the little + Felicia. On Thursdays, when the visitors’ names were called out in the + parlour, there was no one for her; except from time to time a good but + rather absurd lady, formerly a dancer, it was said, whom Felicia called + the Fairy. In the same way she used to have pet names for all the people + she cared for and whom she transformed in her imaginations. In the + holidays they used to see each other. Mme. Joyeuse, while she refused to + allow Aline to visit the studio of M. Ruys, used to invite Felicia over + for whole days, very short days they seemed, minglings of study, music, + dual dreams, young intimate conversations. “Oh, when she used to talk to + me of her art, with that enthusiasm which she put into everything, how + delighted I was to listen to her! How many things I have understood + through her, of which I should never have had any idea. Even now when we + go to the Louvre with papa, or to the exhibition of the 1st of May, that + special feeling I have about a beautiful piece of sculpture, a good + picture, carries me back immediately to Felicia. In my early girlhood she + represented art to me, and it corresponded with her beauty. Her nature was + a little vague, but so kind, I always felt she was something superior to + myself, that bore me to great heights without frightening me. Suddenly she + stopped coming to see me. I wrote to her; no reply. Later on, fame came to + her; to me great sorrows, absorbing duties. And of all that friendship, + which was very deep, however, since I cannot speak of it without—‘three, + four, five’—nothing now remains except old memories like dead + ashes.” + </p> + <p> + Bending over her work, the brave girl made haste to count her stitches, to + imprison her regret in the capricious designs of her tapestry, while de + Gery, moved as he heard the testimony of those pure lips against the + calumnies of rejected young dandies or of jealous comrades, felt himself + raised, restored to the proud dignity of his love. This sensation was so + sweet to him that he returned in search of it very often, not only on the + evenings of the lessons, but on other evenings, too, and almost forgot to + go to see Felicia for the pleasure of hearing Aline talk about her. + </p> + <p> + One evening, as he was leaving the Joyeuses’ home, Paul met the neighbour, + M. Andre, on the landing, who was waiting for him and took his arm + feverishly. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur de Gery,” he said in a trembling voice, with eyes that glittered + behind their spectacles, the one feature of his face that was visible in + the darkness. “I have an explanation to ask from you. Will you come up to + my rooms for a moment?” + </p> + <p> + There had only been between this young man and himself the banal relations + of two persons accustomed to frequent the same house, whom no tie unites, + who seem ever separated by a certain antipathy of nature, of manner of + life. What explanation could there be called for between them? He followed + him with much perplexed curiosity. + </p> + <p> + The aspect of the little studio, chilly under its top-light, the empty + fireplace, the wind blowing as though they were out of doors and making + the candle flicker, the solitary light on the scene of the night’s labour + of a poor and lonely man, reflected on sheets of paper scribbled over and + scattered about, in short, this atmosphere of habitations wherein the soul + of the inhabitants lives on its own aspirations, caused de Gery to + understand the visionary air of Andre Maranne, his long hair thrown back + and streaming loose, that somewhat excessive appearance, very excusable + when it is paid for by a life of sufferings and privations, and his + sympathy immediately went out to this courageous fellow whose intrepidity + of spirit he guessed at a glance. But the other was too deeply moved by + emotion to notice the progress of these reflections. As soon as the door + was closed upon them, he said, with the accent of a stage hero addressing + the perfidious seducer, “M. de Gery, I am not yet a Cassandra.” + </p> + <p> + And seeing the stupefaction of de Gery: + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes,” he went on, “we understand each other. I have known perfectly + well what it is that draws you to M. Joyeuse’s house, and the eager + welcome with which you are received there has not escaped my notice + either. You are rich, you are of noble birth, there can be no hesitation + between you and the poor poet who follows a ridiculous trade in order to + give himself full time to reach a success which perhaps will never come. + But I shall not allow my happiness to be stolen from me. We must fight, + monsieur, we must fight,” he repeated, excited by the peaceful calm of his + rival. “For long I have loved Mlle. Joyeuse. That love is the end, the + joy, and the strength of an existence which is very hard, in many respects + painful. I have only it in the world, and I would rather die than give it + up.” + </p> + <p> + Strangeness of the human soul! Paul did not love the charming Aline. His + whole heart belonged to the other. He thought of her simply as a friend, + the most adorable of friends. But the idea that Maranne was interested in + her, that she no doubt returned this regard, gave him the jealous shiver + of an annoyance, and it was with some considerable sharpness that he + inquired whether Mlle. Joyeuse was aware of this sentiment of Andre’s and + had in any way authorized him thus to proclaim his rights. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, monsieur, Mlle. Elise knows that I love her, and before your + frequent visits—” + </p> + <p> + “Elise? It is of Elise you are speaking?” + </p> + <p> + “And of whom, then, should I be speaking? The two others are too young.” + </p> + <p> + He fully entered into the traditions of the family, this Andre. For him, + Bonne Maman’s age of twenty years, her triumphant grace, were obscured by + a surname full of respect and the attributes of a Providence which seemed + to cling to her. + </p> + <p> + A very brief explanation having calmed Andre Maranne’s mind, he offered + his apologies to de Gery, begged him to sit down in the arm-chair of + carved wood which was used by his sitters, and their conversation quickly + assumed an intimate and sympathetic character, brought about by the so + abrupt avowal at its opening. Paul confessed that he, too, was in love, + and that he came so often to M. Joyeuse’s only in order to speak of her + whom he loved with Bonne Maman, who had known her formerly. + </p> + <p> + “That is my case, too,” said Andre. “Bonne Maman knows all my secrets; but + we have not yet ventured to say anything to the father. My position is too + unsatisfactory. Ah, when I shall have got <i>Revolt</i> produced!” + </p> + <p> + Then they talked of that famous drama, <i>Revolt</i>, upon which he had + been at work for six months, day and night, which had kept him warm all + the winter, a very severe winter, but whose rigours the magic of + composition had tempered in the little studio, which it transformed. It + was there, within that narrow space, that all the heroes of his piece had + appeared to his poet’s vision like familiar gnomes dropped from the roof + or riding moon-beams, and with them the gorgeous tapestries, the + glittering chandeliers, the park scenes with their gleaming flights of + steps, all the luxurious circumstance expected in stage effects, as well + as the glorious tumult of his first night, the applause of which was + represented for him by the rain beating on the glass roof and the boards + rattling in the door, while the wind, driving below over the murky + timber-yard with a noise as of far-off voices, borne near and anew carried + off into the distance, resembled the murmurs from the boxes opened on the + corridor to let the news of his success circulate among the gossip and + wonderment of the crowd. It was not only fame and money that it was + destined to procure him, this thrice-blessed play, but something also more + precious still. With what care accordingly did he not turn over the leaves + of the manuscript in five thick books, all bound in blue, books like those + that the Levantine was accustomed to strew about on the divan where she + took her siestas, and that she marked with her managerial pencil. + </p> + <p> + Paul, having in his turn approached the table in order to examine the + masterpiece had his glance attracted by a richly framed portrait of a + woman, which, placed so near to the artist’s work, seemed to be there to + preside over it. Elise, doubtless? Oh, no, Andre had not yet the right to + bring out from its protecting case the portrait of his little friend. This + was a woman of about forty, gentle of aspect, fair, and extremely elegant. + As he perceived her, de Gery could not suppress an exclamation. + </p> + <p> + “You know her?” asked Andre Maranne. + </p> + <p> + “Why, yes. Mme. Jenkins, the wife of the Irish doctor. I have had supper + at their house this winter.” + </p> + <p> + “She is my mother.” And the young man added in a lower tone: + </p> + <p> + “Mme. Maranne made a second marriage with Dr. Jenkins. You are surprised, + are you not, to see me in these poor surroundings, while my relatives are + living in the midst of luxury? But, you know, the chances of family life + sometimes group together natures that differ very widely. My stepfather + and I have never been able to understand each other. He wished to make me + a doctor, whereas my only taste was for writing. So at last, in order to + avoid the continual discussions which were painful to my mother, I + preferred to leave the house and plough my furrow alone, without the help + of anybody. A rough business. Funds were wanting. The whole fortune has + gone to that—to M. Jenkins. The question was to earn a livelihood, + and you are aware what a difficult thing that is for people like + ourselves, supposed to be well brought-up. To think that among all the + accomplishments gained from what we are accustomed to call a complete + education, this child’s play was the only thing I could find by which I + could hope to earn my bread. A few savings, my own purse, slender like + that of most young men, served to buy my first outfit and I installed + myself here far away, in the remotest region of Paris, in order not to + embarrass my relatives. Between ourselves, I don’t expect to make a + fortune out of photography. The first days especially were very difficult. + Nobody came, or if by chance some unfortunate wight did mount, I made a + failure of him, got on my plate only an image blurred and vague as a + phantom. One day, at the very beginning, a wedding-party came up to me, + the bride all in white, the bridegroom with a waistcoat—like that! + And all the guests in white gloves, which they insisted on keeping on for + the portrait on account of the rarity of such an event with them. No, I + thought I should go mad. Those black faces, the great white patches made + by the dresses, the gloves, the orange-blossoms, the unlucky bride, + looking like a queen of Niam-niam under her wreath merging + indistinguishably into her hair. And all of them so full of good-will, of + encouragements to the artist. I began them over again at least twenty + times, and kept them till five o’clock in the evening. And then they only + left me because it was time for dinner. Can you imagine that wedding-day + passed at a photographer’s?” + </p> + <p> + While Andre was recounting to him with this good humour the troubles of + his life, Paul recalled the tirade of Felicia that day when Bohemians had + been mentioned, and all that she had said to Jenkins of their lofty + courage, avid of privations and trials. He thought also of Aline’s passion + for her beloved Paris, of which he himself was only acquainted, for his + part, with the unwholesome eccentricities, while the great city hid in its + recesses so many unknown heroisms and noble illusions. This last + impression, already experienced within the sheltered circle of the + Joyeuse’s great lamp, he received perhaps still more vividly in this + atmosphere, less warm, less peaceful, wherein art also entered to add its + despairing or glorious uncertainty; and it was with a moved heart that he + listened to Andre Maranne as he spoke to him of Elise, of the examinations + which it was taking her so long to pass, of the difficulties of + photography, of all that unforeseen element in his life which would end + certainly “when he could have secured the production of <i>Revolt</i>,” a + charming smile accompanying on the poet’s lips this so often expressed + hope, which he was wont himself to hasten to make fun of, as though to + deprive others of the right to do so. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0013" id="link2H_4_0013"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + MEMOIRS OF AN OFFICE PORTER SERVANTS + </h2> + <h3> + Truly Fortune in Paris has bewildering turns of the wheel! + </h3> + <p> + To have seen the Territorial Bank as I have seen it, the rooms without + fires, never swept, the desert with its dust, protested bills piled high + as <i>that</i> on the desks, every week a notice of sale posted at the + door, my stew spreading throughout the whole place the odour of a poor + man’s kitchen; and then to witness now the reconstitution of our company + in its newly furnished halls, in which I have orders to light fires big + enough for a Government department, amid a busy crowd, blowings of + whistles, electric bells, gold pieces piled up till they fall over; it + savours of miracle. I need to look at myself in the glass before I can + believe it, to see in the mirror my iron-gray coat, trimmed with silver, + my white tie, my usher’s chain like the one I used to wear at the Faculty + on the days when there were sittings. And to think that to work this + transformation, to bring back to our brows gaiety, the mother of concord, + to restore to our scrip its value ten times over, to our dear governor the + esteem and confidence of which he had been so unjustly deprived, one man + has sufficed, the being of supernatural wealth whom the hundred voices of + renown designate by the name of the Nabob. + </p> + <p> + Oh, the first time that he came to the office, with his fine presence, his + face a little worn perhaps, but so distinguished, his manners of one + accustomed to frequent courts, upon terms of the utmost familiarity with + all the princes of the Orient—in a word, that indescribable quality + of assurance and greatness which is bestowed by immense wealth—I + felt my heart bursting beneath the double row of buttons on my waistcoat. + People may mouth in vain their great words of equality and fraternity; + there are men who stand so surely above the rest that one would like to + bow one’s self down flat in their presence, to find new phrases of + admiration in order to compel them to take a practical interest in one. + Let us hasten to add that I had need of nothing of the kind to attract the + attention of the Nabob. As I rose at his passage—moved to some + emotion, but with dignity, you may trust Passajon for that—he looked + at me with a smile and said in an undertone to the young man who + accompanied him: “What a fine head, like a—” Then there came a word + which I did not catch very well, a word ending in <i>art</i>, something + like <i>leopard</i>. No, however, it cannot have been that. <i>Jean-Bart</i>, + perhaps, although even then I hardly see the connection. However that be, + in any case he did say, “What a fine head,” and this condescension made me + proud. Moreover, all the directors show me a marked degree of kindness and + politeness. It seems that there was a discussion with regard to me at the + meeting of the board, to determine whether I should be kept or dismissed + like our cashier, that ill-tempered fellow who was always talking of + getting everybody sent to the galleys, and whom they have now invited to + go elsewhere to manufacture his cheap shirt-fronts. Well done! That will + teach him to be rude to people. So far as I am concerned, Monsieur the + Governor kindly consented to overlook my somewhat hasty words, in + consideration of my record of service at the Territorial and elsewhere; + and at the conclusion of the board meeting, he said to me with his musical + accent: “Passajon, you remain with us.” It may be imagined how happy I was + and how profuse in the expression of my gratitude. But just think! I + should have left with my few pence without hope of ever saving any more; + obliged to go and cultivate my vineyard in that little country district of + Montbars, a very narrow field for a man who has lived in the midst of all + the financial aristocracy of Paris, and among those great banking + operations by which fortunes are made at a stroke. Instead of that, here I + am established afresh in a magnificent situation, my wardrobe renewed, and + my savings, which I spent a whole day in fingering over, intrusted to the + kind care of the governor, who has undertaken to invest them for me + advantageously. I think that is a manoeuvre which he is the very man to + execute successfully. And no need for the least anxiety. Every fear + vanishes before the word which is in vogue just now at all the councils of + administration, in all shareholders’ meetings, on the Bourse, the + boulevards, and everywhere: “The Nabob is in the affair.” That is to say, + gold is being poured out abundantly, the worst <i>combinazioni</i> are + excellent. + </p> + <p> + He is so rich, that man! + </p> + <p> + Rich to a degree one cannot imagine. Has he not just lent fifteen million + francs as a simple loan passing from hand to hand, to the Bey of Tunis? I + repeat, fifteen millions. It was a trick he played on the Hemerlingues, + who wished to embroil him with that monarch and cut the grass under his + feet in those fine regions of the Orient where it grows golden, high, and + thick. It was an old Turk whom I know, Colonel Brahim, one of our + directors at the Territorial, who arranged the affair. Naturally, the Bey, + who happened to be, it appears, short of pocket-money, was very much + touched by the alacrity of the Nabob to oblige him, and he has just sent + him through Brahim a letter of thanks in which he announces that upon the + occasion of his next visit to Vichy, he will stay a couple of days with + him at that fine Chateau de Saint-Romans, which the former Bey, the + brother of this one, honoured with a visit once before. You may fancy, + what an honour! To receive a reigning prince as a guest! The Hemerlingues + are in a rage. They who had manoeuvred so carefully—the son at + Tunis, the father in Paris—to get the Nabob into disfavour. And then + it is true that fifteen millions is a big sum. And do not say, “Passajon + is telling us some fine tales.” The person who acquainted me with the + story has held in his hands the paper sent by the Bey in an envelope of + green silk stamped with the royal seal. If he did not read it, it was + because this paper was written in Arabic, otherwise he would have made + himself familiar with its contents as in the case of all the rest of the + Nabob’s correspondence. This person is his <i>valet de chambre</i>, M. + Noel, to whom I had the honour of being introduced last Friday at a small + evening-party of persons in service which he gave to all his friends. I + record an account of this function in my memoirs as one of the most + curious things which I have seen in the course of my four years of sojourn + in Paris. + </p> + <p> + I had thought at first when M. Francis, Monpavon’s <i>valet de chambre</i>, + spoke to me of the thing, that it was a question of one of those little + clandestine junketings such as are held sometimes in the garrets of our + boulevards with the fragments of food brought up by Mlle. Seraphine and + the other cooks in the building, at which you drink stolen wine, and gorge + yourself, sitting on trunks, trembling with fear, by the light of a couple + of candles which are extinguished at the least noise in the corridors. + These secret practices are repugnant to my character. But when I received, + as for the regular servants’ ball, an invitation written in a very + beautiful hand upon pink paper: + </p> + <p> + “M. Noel rekwests M—— to be present at his evenin-party on the + 25th instent. Super will be provided” + </p> + <p> + I saw clearly, not withstanding the defective spelling, that it was a + question of something serious and authorized. I dressed myself therefore + in my newest frock-coat, my finest linen, and arrived at the Place Vendome + at the address indicated by the invitation. + </p> + <p> + For the giving of his party, M. Noel had taken advantage of a first-night + at the opera, to which all fashionable society was thronging, thus giving + the servants a free rein, and putting the entire place at our disposal + until midnight. Notwithstanding this, the host had preferred to receive us + upstairs in his own bed-chamber, and this I approved highly, being in that + matter of the opinion of the old fellow in the rhyme: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Fie on the pleasure + That fear may corrupt! +</pre> + <p> + But my word, the luxury on the Place Vendome! A felt carpet on the floor, + the bed hidden away in an alcove, Algerian curtains with red stripes, an + ornamental clock in green marble on the chimneypiece, the whole lighted by + lamps of which the flames can be regulated at will. Our oldest member, M. + Chalmette, is not better lodged at Dijon. I arrived about nine o’clock + with Monpavon’s old Francis, and I must confess that my entry made a + sensation, preceded as I was by my academical past, my reputation for + politeness, and great knowledge of the world. My fine presence did the + rest, for it must be said that I know how to go into a room. M. Noel, in a + dress-coat, very dark skinned and with mutton-chop whiskers, came forward + to meet us. + </p> + <p> + “You are welcome, M. Passajon,” said he, and taking my cap with silver + galloons which, according to the fashion, I had kept in my right hand + while making my entry, he gave it to a gigantic negro in red and gold + livery. + </p> + <p> + “Here, Lakdar, hang that up—and that,” he added by way of a joke, + giving him a kick in a certain region of the back. + </p> + <p> + There was much laughter at this sally, and we began to chat together in + very friendly fashion. An excellent fellow, this M. Noel, with his accent + of the Midi, his pronounced style of dress, the smoothness and the + simplicity of his manners. He reminded me of the Nabob, without his + distinction, however. I noticed, moreover, that evening, that these + resemblances are frequently to be observed in <i>valets de chambre</i> + who, living in the intimacy of their masters, by whom they are always a + little dazzled, end by acquiring their manners and habits. Thus, M. + Francis has a certain way of straightening his body when displaying his + linen-front, a mania for raising his arms in order to pull his cuffs down—it + is Monpavon to a T. Now one, for instance, who bears no resemblance to his + master is Joey, the coachman of Dr. Jenkins. I call him Joey, but at the + party every one called him Jenkins; for, in that world, the stable folk + among themselves give to each other the names of their masters, call each + other Bois l’Hery, Monpavon, and Jenkins, without ceremony. Is it in order + to degrade their superiors, to raise the status of menials? Every country + has its customs; it is only a fool who will be surprised by them. To + return to Joey Jenkins, how can the doctor, affable as he is, so polished + in every particular, keep in his service that brute, bloated with <i>porter</i> + and <i>gin</i>, who will remain silent for hours at a time, then, at the + first mounting of liquor to his head, begins to howl and to wish to fight + everybody, as witness the scandalous scene which had just occurred when we + entered? + </p> + <p> + The marquis’s little groom, Tom Bois l’Hery, as they call him here, had + desired to have a jest with this uncouth creature of an Irishman, who had + replied to a bit of Parisian urchin’s banter with a terrible Belfast blow + of his fist right in the lad’s face. + </p> + <p> + “A sausage with paws, I! A sausage with paws, I!” repeated the coachman, + choking with rage, while his innocent victim was being carried into the + adjoining room, where the ladies and girls found occupation in bathing his + nose. The disturbance was quickly appeased, thanks to our arrival, thanks + also to the wise words of M. Barreau, a middle-aged man, sedate and + majestic, with a manner resembling my own. He is the Nabob’s cook, a + former <i>chef</i> of the Cafe Anglais, whom Cardailhac, the manager of + the Nouveautes, has procured for his friend. To see him in a dress-coat, + with white tie, his handsome face full and clean-shaven, you would have + taken him for one of the great functionaries of the Empire. It is true + that a cook in an establishment where the table is set every morning for + thirty persons, in addition to madame’s special meal, and all eating only + the very finest and most delicate of food, is not the same as the ordinary + preparer of a <i>ragout</i>. He is paid the salary of a colonel, lodged, + boarded, and then the perquisites! One has hardly a notion of the extent + of the perquisites in a berth like this. Every one consequently addressed + him respectfully, with the deference due to a man of his importance. “M. + Barreau” here, “My dear M. Barreau” there. For it is a great mistake to + imagine that servants among themselves are all cronies and comrades. + Nowhere do you find a hierarchy more prevalent than among them. Thus at M. + Noel’s party I distinctly noticed that the coachmen did not fraternize + with their grooms, nor the valets with the footmen and the lackeys, any + more than the steward or the butler would mix with the lower servants; and + when M. Barreau emitted any little pleasantry it was amusing to see how + exceedingly those under his orders seemed to enjoy it. I am not opposed to + this kind of thing. Quite on the contrary. As our oldest member used to + say, “A society without a hierarchy is like a house without a staircase.” + The observation, however, seems to me one worth setting down in these + memoirs. + </p> + <p> + The party, I need scarcely say, did not shine with its full splendour + until after the return of its most beauteous ornaments, the ladies and + girls who had gone to nurse the little Tom, ladies’-maids with shining and + pomaded hair, chiefs of domestic departments in bonnets adorned with + ribbons, negresses, housekeepers, a brilliant assembly in which I was + immediately given great prestige, thanks to my dignified bearing and to + the surname of “Uncle” which the younger among these delightful persons + saw fit to bestow upon me. + </p> + <p> + I fancy there was in the room a good deal of second-hand frippery in the + way of silk and lace, rather faded velvet, even, eight-button gloves that + had been cleaned several times, and perfumes abstracted from madame’s + dressing-table, but the faces were happy, thoughts given wholly to gaiety, + and I was able to make a little corner for myself, which was very lively, + always within the bounds of propriety—that goes without saying—and + of a character suitable for an individual in my position. This was, + moreover, the general tone of the party. Until towards the end of the + entertainment I heard none of those unseemly jests, none of those + scandalous stories which give so much amusement to the gentlemen of our + Board; and I take pleasure in remarking that Bois l’Hery the coachman—to + cite only one example—is much more observant of the proprieties than + Bois l’Hery the master. + </p> + <p> + M. Noel alone was conspicuous by his familiar tone and by the liveliness + of his repartees. In him you have a man who does not hesitate to call + things by their names. Thus he remarked aloud to M. Francis, from one end + of the room to the other: “I say, Francis, that old swindler of yours has + made a nice thing out of us again this week.” And as the other drew + himself up with a dignified air, M. Noel began to laugh. + </p> + <p> + “No offence, old chap. The coffer is solid. You will never get to the + bottom of it.” + </p> + <p> + And it was on this that he told us of the loan of fifteen millions, to + which I alluded above. + </p> + <p> + I was surprised, however, to see no sign of preparation for the supper + which was mentioned on the cards of invitation, and I expressed my anxiety + on the point to one of my charming nieces, who replied: + </p> + <p> + “They are waiting for M. Louis.” + </p> + <p> + “M. Louis?” + </p> + <p> + “What! you do not know M. Louis, the <i>valet de chambre</i> of the Duc de + Mora?” + </p> + <p> + I then learned who this influential personage was, whose protection is + sought by prefects, senators, even ministers, and who must make them pay + stiffly for it, since with his salary of twelve hundred francs from the + duke he has saved enough to produce him an income of twenty-five thousand, + sends his daughters to the convent school of the Sacre Coeur, his son to + the College Bourdaloue, and owns a chalet in Switzerland where all his + family goes to stay during the holidays. + </p> + <p> + At this juncture the personage in question arrived; but nothing in his + appearance would have suggested the unique position in Paris which is his. + Nothing of majesty in his deportment, a waistcoat buttoned up to the + collar, a mean-looking and insolent manner, and a way of speaking without + moving the lips which is very impolite to those who are listening to you. + </p> + <p> + He greeted the assembly with a slight nod of the head, extended a finger + to M. Noel, and we were sitting there looking at each other, frozen by his + grand manners, when a door opened at the farther end of the room and we + beheld the supper laid out with all kinds of cold meats, pyramids of + fruit, and bottles of all shapes beneath the light falling from two + candelabra. + </p> + <p> + “Come, gentlemen, give the ladies your hands.” In a minute we were at + table, the ladies seated next the eldest or the most important among us + all, the rest on their feet, serving, chattering, drinking from + everybody’s glass, picking a morsel from any plate. I had M. Francis for + my neighbour and I had to listen to his grudges against M. Louis, of whose + place he was envious, so brilliant was it in comparison with that which he + occupied under the noble but worn-out old gambler who was his master. + </p> + <p> + “He is a <i>parvenu</i>,” he muttered to me in a low voice. “He owes his + fortune to his wife, to Mme. Paul.” + </p> + <p> + It appears that this Mme. Paul is a housekeeper, who has been in the + duke’s establishment for twenty years, and who excels beyond all others in + the preparation for him of a certain ointment for an affection to which he + is subject. She is indispensable to Mora. Recognising this, M. Louis made + love to the old lady, married her though much younger than she, and in + order not to lose his sick-nurse and her ointments, his excellency engaged + the husband as <i>valet de chambre</i>. At bottom, in spite of what I said + to M. Francis, for my own part I thought the proceeding quite praiseworthy + and conformable to the loftiest morality, since the mayor and the priest + had a finger in it. Moreover, that excellent meal, composed of delicate + and very expensive foods with which I was unacquainted even by name, had + strongly disposed my mind to indulgence and good-humour. But every one was + not similarly inclined, for from the other side of the table I could hear + the bass voice of M. Barreau, complaining: + </p> + <p> + “Why can he not mind his own business? Do I go pushing my nose into his + department? To begin with, the thing concerns Bompain, not him. And then, + after all, what is it that I am charged with? The butcher sends me five + baskets of meat every morning. I use only two of them and sell the three + others back to him. Where is the <i>chef</i> who does not do the same? As + if, instead of coming to play the spy in my basement, he would not do + better to look after the great leakage up there. When I think that in + three months that gang on the first floor has smoked twenty-eight thousand + francs’ worth of cigars. Twenty-eight thousand francs! Ask Noel if I am + not speaking the truth. And on the second floor, in the apartments of + madame, that is where you should look to see a fine confusion of linen, of + dresses thrown aside after being worn once, jewels by the handful, pearls + that you crush on the floor as you walk. Oh, but wait a little. I shall + get my own back from that same little gentleman.” + </p> + <p> + I understood that the allusion was to M. de Gery, that young secretary of + the Nabob who often comes to the Territorial, where he is always occupied + rummaging into the books. Very polite, certainly, but a very haughty young + man, who does not know how to push himself forward. From all round the + table there came nothing but a concert of maledictions on him. M. Louis + himself addressed some remarks to the company upon the subject with his + grand air: + </p> + <p> + “In our establishment, my dear M. Barreau, the cook quite recently had an + affair, similar to yours, with the chief of his excellency’s Cabinet, who + had permitted himself to make some comments upon the expenditure. The cook + went up to the duke’s apartments upon the instant in his professional + costume, and with his hand on the strings of his apron, said, ‘Let your + excellency choose between monsieur and myself.’ The duke did not hesitate. + One can find as many Cabinet leaders as one desires, while the good cooks, + you can count them. There are in Paris four altogether. I include you, my + dear Barreau. We dismissed the chief of our Cabinet, giving him a + prefecture of the first class by way of consolation; but we kept the <i>chef</i> + of our kitchen.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, you see,” said M. Barreau, who rejoiced to hear this story, “you see + what it is to serve in the house of a <i>grand seigneur</i>. But <i>parvenus</i> + are <i>parvenus</i>—what will you have?” + </p> + <p> + “And that is all Jansoulet is,” added M. Francis, tugging at his cuffs. “A + man who used to be a street porter at Marseilles.” + </p> + <p> + M. Noel took offence at this. + </p> + <p> + “Hey, down there, old Francis, you are very glad all the same to have him + to pay your card-debts, the street porter of La Cannebriere. You may well + be embarrassed by <i>parvenus</i> like us who lend millions to kings, and + whom <i>grand seigneurs</i> like Mora do not blush to admit to their + tables.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, in the country,” chuckled M. Francis, with a sneer that showed his + old tooth. + </p> + <p> + The other rose, quite red in the face. He was about to give way to his + anger when M. Louis made a gesture with his hand to signify that he had + something to say, and M. Noel sat down immediately, putting his hand to + his ear like all the rest of us in order to lose nothing that fell from + those august lips. + </p> + <p> + “It is true,” remarked the personage, speaking with the slightest possible + movement of his mouth and continuing to take his wine in little sips, “it + is true that we received the Nabob at Grandbois the other week. There even + happened something very funny on the occasion. We have a quantity of + mushrooms in the second park, and his excellency amuses himself sometimes + by gathering them. Now at dinner was served a large dish of fungi. There + were present, what’s his name—I forget, what is it?—Marigny, + the Minister of the Interior, Monpavon, and your master, my dear Noel. The + mushrooms went the round of the table, they looked nice, the gentlemen + helped themselves freely, except M. le Duc, who cannot digest them and out + of politeness feels it his duty to remark to his guests: ‘Oh, you know, it + is not that I am suspicious of them. They are perfectly safe. It was I + myself who gathered them.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘<i>Sapristi!</i>’ said Monpavon, laughing, ‘then, my dear Auguste, allow + me to be excused from tasting them.’ Marigny, less familiar, glanced at + his plate out of the corner of his eye. + </p> + <p> + “‘But, yes, Monpavon, I assure you. They look extremely good, these + mushrooms. I am truly sorry that I have no appetite left.’ + </p> + <p> + “The duke remained very serious. + </p> + <p> + “‘Come, M. Jansoulet, I sincerely hope that you are not going to offer me + this affront, you also. Mushrooms selected by myself.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Oh, Excellency, the very idea of such a thing! Why, I would eat them + with my eyes closed.’ + </p> + <p> + “So you see what sort of luck he had, the poor Nabob, the first time that + he dined with us. Duperron, who was serving opposite him, told us all + about it in the pantry. It seems there could have been nothing more comic + than to see the Jansoulet stuffing himself with mushrooms, and rolling + terrified eyes, while the others sat watching him curiously without + touching their plates. He sweated under the effort, poor wretch. And the + best of it was that he took a second portion, he actually found the + courage to take a second portion. He kept drinking off glasses of wine, + however, like a mason, between each mouthful. Ah, well, do you wish to + hear my opinion? What he did there was very clever, and I am no longer + surprised that this fat cow-herd should have become the favourite of + sovereigns. He knows where to flatter them in those little pretensions + which no man avows. In brief, the duke has been crazy over him since that + day.” + </p> + <p> + This little story caused much laughter and scattered the clouds which had + been raised by a few imprudent words. So then, since the wine had untied + people’s tongues, and they knew each other better, elbows were leaned on + the table and the conversation fell on masters, on the places in which + each of them had served, on the amusing things he had seen in them. Ah! of + how many such adventures did I not hear, how much of the interior life of + those establishments did I not see pass before me. Naturally I also made + my own little effect with the story of my larder at the Territorial, the + times when I used to keep my stew in the empty safe, which circumstance, + however, did not prevent our old cashier, a great stickler for forms, from + changing the key-word of the lock every two days, as though all the + treasures of the Bank of France had been inside. M. Louis appeared to find + my anecdote entertaining. But the most astonishing was what the little + Bois l’Hery, with his Parisian street-boy’s accent, related to us + concerning the household of his employers. + </p> + <p> + Marquis and Marquise de Bois l’Hery, second floor, Boulevard Haussmann. + Furniture rich as at the Tuileries, blue satin on all the walls, Chinese + ornaments, pictures, curiosities, a veritable museum, indeed, overflowing + even on to the stairway. The service very smart: six men-servants, + chestnut livery in winter, nankeen livery in summer. These people are seen + everywhere at the small Mondays, at the races, at first-nights, at embassy + balls, and their name always in the newspapers with a remark upon the + handsome toilettes of Madame, and Monsieur’s remarkable chic. Well! all + that is nothing at all but pretence, plated goods, show, and when the + marquis wants five francs nobody would lend them to him upon his + possessions. The furniture is hired by the fortnight from Fitily, the + upholsterer of the demi-monde. The curiosities, the pictures, belong to + old Schwalbach, who sends his clients round there and makes them pay + doubly dear, since people don’t bargain when they think they are dealing + with a marquis, an amateur. As for the toilettes of the marquise, the + milliner and the dressmaker provide her with them each season gratis, get + her to wear the new fashions, a little ridiculous sometimes but which + society subsequently adopts because Madame is still a very handsome woman + and reputed for her elegance; she is what is called a <i>launcher</i>. + Finally, the servants! Makeshifts like the rest, changed each week at the + pleasure of the registry office which sends them there to do a period of + probation by way of preliminary to a serious engagement. If you have + neither sureties nor certificates, if you have just come out of prison or + anything of that kind, Glanand, the famous agent of the Rue de la Paix, + sends you off to the Boulevard Haussmann. You remain in service there for + a week or two, just the time necessary to buy a good reference from the + marquis, who, of course, it is understood, pays you nothing and barely + boards you; for in that house the kitchen-ranges are cold most of the + time, Monsieur and Madame dining out nearly every evening or going to + balls, where a supper is included in the entertainment. It is positive + fact that there are people in Paris who take the sideboard seriously and + make the first meal of their day after midnight. The Bois l’Herys, in + consequence, are well-informed with regard to the houses that provide + refreshments. They will tell you that you get a very good supper at the + Austrian Embassy, that the Spanish Embassy rather neglects the wines, and + that it is at the Foreign Office again that you find the best <i>chaud-froid + de volailles</i>. And that is the life of this curious household. Nothing + that they possess is really theirs; everything is tacked on, loosely + fastened with pins. A gust of wind and the whole thing blows away. But at + least they are certain of losing nothing. It is this assurance which gives + to the marquis that air of raillery worthy of a Father Tranquille which he + has when he looks at you with both hands in his pockets, as much as to + say: “Ah, well, and what then? What can they do to me?” + </p> + <p> + And the little groom, in the attitude which I have just mentioned, with + his head like that of a prematurely old and vicious child, imitated his + master so well that I could fancy I saw himself as he looks at our board + meetings, standing in front of the governor and overwhelming him with his + cynical pleasantries. All the same, one must admit that Paris is a + tremendously great city, for a man to be able to live thus, through + fifteen, twenty years of tricks, artifice, dust thrown in people’s eyes, + without everybody finding him out, and for him still to be able to make a + triumphal entry into a drawing-room in the rear of his name announced + loudly and repeatedly, “Monsieur le Marquis de Bois l’Hery.” + </p> + <p> + No, look you, the things that are to be learned at a servants’ party, what + a curious spectacle is presented by the fashionable world of Paris, seen + thus from below, from the basements, you need to go to one before you can + realize. Here, for instance, is a little fragment of conversation which, + happening to find myself between M. Francis and M. Louis, I overheard + about the worthy sire de Monpavon. + </p> + <p> + “You are making a mistake, Francis. You are in funds just now. You ought + to take advantage of the occasion to restore that money to the Treasury.” + </p> + <p> + “What will you have?” replied M. Francis with a despondent air. “Play is + devouring us.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I know it well. But take care. We shall not always be there. We may + die, fall from power. Then you will be asked for accounts by the people + down yonder. And it will be a terrible business.” + </p> + <p> + I had often heard whispered the story of a forced loan of two hundred + thousand francs which the marquis was reputed to have secured from the + State at the time when he was Receiver-General; but the testimony of his + <i>valet de chambre</i> was worse than all. Ah! if masters had any + suspicion of how much servants know, of all the stories that are told in + the servants’ hall, if they could see their names dragged among the + sweepings of the house and the refuse of the kitchen, they would never + again dare to say even “shut the door” or “harness the horses.” Why, for + instance, take Dr. Jenkins, with the most valuable practice in Paris, ten + years of life in common with a magnificent woman, who is sought after + everywhere; it is in vain that he has done everything to dissimulate his + position, announced his marriage in the newspapers after the English + fashion, admitted to his house only foreign servants knowing hardly three + words of French. In those three words, seasoned with vulgar oaths and + blows of his fist on the table, his coachman Joey, who hates him, told us + his whole history during supper. + </p> + <p> + “She is going to kick the bucket, his Irish wife, the real one. Remains to + be seen now whether he will marry the other. Forty-five, she is, Mrs. + Maranne, and not a shilling. You should see how afraid she is of being + left in the lurch. Whether he marries her or whether he does not marry her—kss, + kss—we shall have a good laugh.” + </p> + <p> + And the more drink he was given, the more he told us about her, speaking + of his unfortunate mistress as though she were the lowest of the low. For + my own part, I confess that she interested me, this false Mme. Jenkins, + who goes about weeping in every corner, implores her lover as though he + were the executioner, and runs the chance of being thrown overboard + altogether, when all society believes her to be married, respectable, and + established in life. The others only laughed over the story, the women + especially. Dame! it is amusing when one is in service to see that the + ladies of the upper ten have their troubles also and torments that keep + them awake at night. + </p> + <p> + Our festal board at this stage presented the most lively aspect, a circle + of gay faces stretched towards this Irishman whose story was adjudged to + have won the prize. The fact excited envy; the rest sought and hunted + through their memories for whatever they might hold in the way of old + scandals, adventures of deceived husbands, of those intimate privacies + which are emptied on the kitchen-table along with the scraps from the + plates and the dregs from the bottles. The champagne was beginning to + claim its own among the guests. Joey wanted to dance a jig on the + table-cloth. The ladies, at the least word that was a little gay, threw + themselves back with the piercing laughter of people who are being + tickled, allowing their embroidered skirts to trail beneath the table, + loaded with the remains of the food and covered with spilt grease. M. + Louis had discreetly retired. Glasses were filled up before they had been + emptied; one of the housekeepers dipped a handkerchief in hers, filled + with water, and bathed her forehead with it, because her head was + swimming, she said. It was time that the festivity should end; and, in + fact, an electric bell ringing in the corridor warned us that the footman, + on duty at the theatre, had come to summon the coachmen. Thereupon + Monpavon proposed the health of the master of the house, thanking him for + his little party. M. Noel announced that he proposed to give another at + Saint-Romans, in honour of the visit of the Bey, to which most of those + present would probably be invited. And I was about to rise in my turn, + being sufficiently accustomed to social banquets to know that on such an + occasion the oldest man present is expected to propose the health of the + ladies, when the door opened abruptly, and a tall footman, bespattered + with mud, a dripping umbrella in his hand, perspiring, out of breath, + cried to us, without respect for the company: + </p> + <p> + “But come on then, you set of idiots! What are you sticking here for? + Don’t you know it is over?” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0014" id="link2H_4_0014"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE FESTIVITIES IN HONOUR OF THE BEY + </h2> + <p> + In the regions of the Midi, of bygone civilization, historical castles + still standing are rare. Only at long intervals on the hillsides some old + abbey lifts its tottering and dismembered front, perforated by holes that + once were windows, whose empty spaces look now only to the sky. A monument + of dust, burnt up by the sun, dating from the time of the Crusades or of + the Courts of Love, without a trace of man among its stones, where even + the ivy no longer clings nor the acanthus, but which the dried lavenders + and the ferns embalm. In the midst of all those ruins the castle of + Saint-Romans is an illustrious exception. If you have travelled in the + Midi you have seen it, and you are to see it again now. It is between + Valence and Montelimart, on a site just where the railway runs alongside + the Rhone, at the foot of the rich slopes of Baume, Raucoule, and + Mercurol, where the far-famed vineyards of l’Ermitage, spreading out for + five miles in close-planted rows of vines, which seem to grow as one + looks, roll down almost into the river, which is there as green and full + of islands as the Rhine at Basle, but under a sun the Rhine has never + known. Saint-Romans is opposite on the other side of the river; and, in + spite of the brevity of the vision, the headlong rush of the train, which + seems trying to throw itself madly into the Rhone at each turning, the + castle is so large, so well situated on the neighbouring hill, that it + seems to follow the crazy race of the train, and stamps on your mind + forever the memory of its terraces, its balustrades, its Italian + architecture; two low stories surmounted by a colonnaded gallery and + flanked by two slate-roofed pavilions dominating the great slopes where + the water of the cascades rebounds, the network of gravel walks, the + perspective of long hedges, terminated by some white statue which stands + out against the blue sky as on the luminous ground of a stained-glass + window. Quite at the top, in the middle of the vast lawns whose green turf + shines ironically under the scorching sun, a gigantic cedar uplifts its + crested foliage, enveloped in black and floating shadows—an exotic + silhouette, upright before this former dwelling of some Louis XIV farmer + of revenue, which makes one think of a great negro carrying the sunshade + of a gentleman of the court. + </p> + <p> + From Valence to Marseilles, throughout all the Valley of the Rhone, + Saint-Romans of Bellaignes is famous as an enchanted palace; and, indeed, + in that country burnt up by the fiery wind, this oasis of greenness and + beautiful rushing water is a true fairy-land. + </p> + <p> + “When I am rich, mamma,” Jansoulet used to say, as quite a small boy, to + his mother whom he adored, “I shall give you Saint-Romans of Bellaignes.” + And as the life of the man seemed the fulfilment of a story from the + Arabian Nights, as all his wishes came true, even the most + disproportionate, as his maddest chimeras came to lie down before him, to + lick his hands like familiar and obedient spaniels, he had bought + Saint-Romans to offer it, newly furnished and grandiosely restored, to his + mother. Although it was ten years since then, the dear old woman was not + yet used to her splendid establishment. “It is the palace of Queen Jeanne + that you have given me, my dear Bernard,” she wrote to her son. “I shall + never live there.” She never did live there, as a matter of fact, having + stayed at the steward’s house, an isolated building of modern + construction, situated quite at the other end of the grounds, so as to + overlook the outbuildings and the farm, the sheepfolds and the oil-mills, + with their rural horizon of stacks, olive-trees and vines, extending over + the plain as far as one could see. In the great castle she would have + imagined herself a prisoner in one of those enchanted dwellings where + sleep seizes you in the midst of your happiness and does not let you go + for a hundred years. Here, at least, the peasant-woman—who had never + been able to accustom herself to this colossal fortune, come too late, + from too far, and like a thunder-clap—felt herself linked to reality + by the coming and going of the work-people, the letting-out and taking-in + of the cattle, their slow movement to the drinking pond, all that pastoral + life which woke her by the familiar call of the cocks and the sharp cries + of the peacocks, and brought her down the corkscrew staircase of the + pavilion before dawn. She looked upon herself only as the trustee of this + magnificent estate, which she was taking care of for her son, and wished + to give back to him in perfect condition on the day when, rich enough and + tired of living with the Turks, he would come, according to his promise, + to live with her beneath the shade of Saint-Romans. + </p> + <p> + Then, too, what universal and indefatigable supervision! Through the mists + of early morning the farm-servants heard her rough and husky voice: + “Olivier, Peyrol, Audibert. Come on! It is four o’clock.” Then she would + hasten to the immense kitchen, where the maids, heavy with sleep, were + heating the porridge over the crackling, new-lit fire. They gave her a + little dish of red Marseilles-ware full of boiled chestnuts—frugal + breakfast of bygone times, which nothing would have induced her to change. + At once she was off, hurrying with great strides, her large silver keyring + at her belt, whence jingled all her keys, her plate in her hand, balanced + by the distaff which she held, in working order, under her arm, for she + spun all day long, and did not stop even to eat her chestnuts. On the way, + a glance at the stables, still dark, where the animals were moving duly, + at the stifling pens with their rows of impatient and outstretched + muzzles; and the first glimmers of light creeping over the layers of + stones that supported the embankment of the park, lit up the figure of the + old woman, running in the dew, with the lightness of a girl, despite her + seventy years—verifying exactly each morning all the wealth of the + domain, anxious to make sure that the night had not taken away the statues + and the vases, uprooted the hundred-year-old quincunx, dried up the + springs which filtered into their resounding basins. Then the full + sunlight of midday, humming and vibrating, showed still, on the sand of an + alley, against the white wall of a terrace, the long figure of the old + woman, elegant and straight as her spindle, picking up bits of dead wood, + breaking off some uneven branch of a shrub, careless of the shock it + caused her and the sweat which broke out over her skin. Towards this hour + another figure was to be seen in the park also—less active, less + noisy, dragging rather than walking, leaning against the walls and + railings—a poor round-shouldered being, shaky and stiff, a figure + from which life seemed to have gone out, never speaking, when he was tired + giving a little plaintive cry towards the servant, who was always near, + who helped him to sit down, to crouch upon some step, where he would stay + for hours, motionless, mute, his mouth hanging, his eyes blinking, hushed + by the strident monotony of the grasshopper’s cry—a blotch of + humanity in the splendid horizon. + </p> + <p> + This, this was the first-born, Bernard’s brother, the darling child of his + father and mother, the glorious hope of the nail-maker’s family. Slaves, + like so many others in the Midi, to the superstition of the rights of + primogeniture, they had made every possible sacrifice to send to Paris + their fine, ambitious lad, who set out assured of success, the admiration + of all the young women of the town; and Paris, after having for six years, + beaten, twisted, and squeezed in its great vat the brilliant southern + stripling, after having burnt him with all its vitriol, rolled him in all + its mud, finished by sending him back in this state of wreckage, stupefied + and paralyzed—killing his father with sorrow, and forcing his mother + to sell her all, and live as a sort of char-woman in the better-class + houses of her own country-side. Lucky it was that just then, when this + broken piece of humanity, discharged from all the hospitals of Paris, was + sent back by public charity to Bourg-Saint-Andeol, Bernard—he whom + they called Cadet, as in these southern families, half Arab as they are, + the eldest always takes the family name, and the last-comer that of Cadet—Bernard + was at Tunis making his fortune, and sending home money regularly. But + what pain it was for the poor mother to owe everything, even the life, the + comfort of the sad invalid, to the robust and courageous boy whom his + father and she had loved without any tenderness; who, since he was five + years old, they had treated as a “hand,” because he was very strong, + woolly-headed, and ugly, and even then knew better than any one in the + house how to deal in old nails. Ah! how she longed to have him near her, + her Cadet, to make some return to him for all the good he did, to pay at + last the debt of love and motherly tenderness that she owed him! + </p> + <p> + But, you see, these princely fortunes have the burdens, the wearinesses of + royal lives. This poor mother, in her dazzling surroundings, was very like + a real queen: familiar with long exiles, cruel separations, and the trials + which detract from greatness; one of her sons forever stupefied, the other + far away, seldom writing, absorbed in his business, saying, “I will come,” + and never coming. She had only seen him once in twelve years, and then in + the whirl of a visit of the Bey to Saint-Romans—a rush of horses and + carriages, of fireworks, and of banquets. He had gone in the suite of his + monarch, having scarcely time to say good-bye to his old mother, to whom + there remained of this great joy only a few pictures in the illustrated + papers, showing Bernard Jansoulet arriving at the castle with Ahmed, and + presenting his mother. Is it not thus that kings and queens have their + family feelings exploited in the journals? There was also a cedar of + Lebanon, brought from the other end of the world, a regular mountain of a + tree, whose transport had been as difficult and as costly as that of + Cleopatra’s needle, and whose erection as a souvenir of the royal visit by + dint of men, money, and teams had shaken the very foundations. But this + time, at least, knowing him to be in France for several months—perhaps + for good—she hoped to have her Bernard to herself. And now he + returned to her, one fine evening, enveloped in the same triumphant glory, + in the same official display, surrounded by a crowd of counts, of + marquises, of fine gentlemen from Paris, filling, they and their servants, + the two large wagonettes she had sent to meet them at the little station + of Giffas on the other side of the Rhone. + </p> + <p> + “Come, give me a kiss, my dear mother. There is nothing to be ashamed of + in giving a good hug to the boy you haven’t seen all these years. Besides, + all these gentlemen are our friends. This is the Marquis de Monpavon, the + Marquis de Bois d’Hery. Ah! the time is past when I brought you to eat + vegetable soup with us, little Cabassu and Jean-Batiste Bompain. You know + M. de Gery? With my old friend Cardailhac, whom I now present, that makes + the first batch. There are others to come. Prepare yourself for a fine + upsetting. We entertain the Bey in four days.” + </p> + <p> + “The Bey again!” said the old woman, astounded. “I thought he was dead.” + </p> + <p> + Jansoulet and his guests could not help laughing at this comical terror, + accentuated by her southern intonation. + </p> + <p> + “It is another, mamma. There is always a Bey—thank goodness. But + don’t be afraid. You won’t have so much bother this time. Our friend + Cardailhac has undertaken everything. We are going to have magnificent + celebrations. In the meantime, quick—dinner and our rooms. Our + Parisians are worn out.” + </p> + <p> + “Everything is ready, my son,” said the old lady quietly, stiff and + straight under her Cambrai cap, the head-dress with its yellowing flaps, + which she never left off even for great occasions. Good fortune had not + changed her. She was a true peasant of the Rhone valley, independent and + proud, without any of the sly humilities of Balzac’s country folk, too + artless to be purse-proud. One pride alone she had—that of showing + her son with what scrupulous care she had discharged her duties as + guardian. Not an atom of dust, not a trace of damp on the walls. All the + splendid ground-floor, the reception-rooms with their hangings of + iridescent silk new out of the dust sheets, the long summer galleries cool + and sonorous, paved with mosaics and furnished with a flowery lightness in + the old-fashioned style, with Louis XIV sofas in cane and silk, the + immense dining-room decorated with palms and flowers, the billiard-room + with its rows of brilliant ivory balls, its crystal chandeliers and its + suits of armour—all the length of the castle, through its tall + windows, wide open to the stately terrace, lay displayed for the + admiration of the visitors. The marvellous beauty of the horizon and the + setting sun, its own serene and peaceful richness, were reflected in the + panes of glass and in the waxed and polished wood with the same clearness + as in the mirror-like ornamental lakes, the pictures of the poplars and + the swans. The setting was so lovely, the whole effect so grand, that the + clamorous and tasteless luxury melted away, disappeared, even to the most + hypercritical eyes. + </p> + <p> + “There is something to work on,” said Cardailhac, the manager, his glass + in his eye, his hat on one side, combining already his stage-effect. And + the haughty air of Monpavon, whom the head-dress of the old woman + receiving them on the terrace had shocked, gave way to a condescending + smile. Here was something to work on, certainly, and, guided by persons of + taste, their friend Jansoulet could really give his Moorish Highness an + exceedingly suitable reception. All the evening they talked of nothing + else. In the sumptuous dining-room, their elbows on the table, full of + meat and drink, they planned and discussed. Cardailhac, who had great + ideas, had already his plan complete. + </p> + <p> + “First of all, you give me <i>carte-blanche</i>, don’t you, Nabob? <i>Carte-blanche</i>, + old fellow, and make that fat Hemerlingue burst with envy.” + </p> + <p> + Then the manager explained his scheme. The festivities were to be divided + into days, as at Vaux, when Fouquet entertained Louis XIV. One day a play; + another day Provencal games, dances, bull-fights, local bands; the third + day—And already the manager’s hand sketched programmes, + announcements; while Bois l’Hery slept, his hands in his pockets, his + chair tilted back, his cigar sunk in the corner of his sneering mouth; and + the Marquis de Monpavon, always on his best behaviour, straightened his + shirt-front to keep himself awake. + </p> + <p> + De Gery had left them early. He had sought refuge beside the old mother—who + had known him as a boy, him and his brothers—in the humble parlour + of the brightly decorated, white-curtained house, where the Nabob’s mother + tried to perpetuate her humble past with the help of a few relics saved + from its wreck. + </p> + <p> + Paul chatted quietly with the fine old woman, admiring her severe and + regular features, her white hair massed together like the hemp of her + distaff, as she sat holding herself straight in her seat—never in + her life having leaned back or sat in an arm-chair—a little green + shawl folded tightly across her flat breast. He called her Francoise, and + she called him M. Paul. They were old friends. And guess what they talked + about? Of her grandchildren, of Bernard’s three sons, whom she did not + know and so much longed to know. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, M. Paul, if you knew how I long to see them! I should have been so + happy if he had brought them, my three little ones, instead of these fine + gentlemen. Think, I have never seen them, only their portraits which are + over there. I am a little afraid of their mother, she is quite a great + lady, a Miss Afchin. But them, the children, I am sure they are not proud, + and they would love their old granny. It would be like having their father + a little boy again, and I would give to them what I did not give to him. + You see, M. Paul, parents are not always just. They have their favourites. + But God is just, he is. The ones that are most petted and spoiled at the + expense of the others, you should see what he does to them for you! And + the favour of the old often brings misfortune to the young!” + </p> + <p> + She sighed, looking towards the large recess from behind the curtains of + which there came, at intervals, a long sobbing breath like the sleeping + wail of a beaten child who has cried bitterly. + </p> + <p> + A heavy step on the staircase, a loud, sweet voice saying, very softly, + “It is I; don’t move,” and Jansoulet appeared. He knew his mother’s + habits, how her lamp was the last to go out, so when every one in the + castle was in bed, he came to see her, to chat with her for a little, to + rejoice her heart with an affection he could not show before the others. + “Oh, stay, my dear Paul; we don’t mind you,” and once more a child in his + mother’s presence, with loving gestures and words that were really + touching, the huge man threw himself on the ground at her feet. She was + very happy to have him there, so dearly near, but she was just a little + shy. She looked upon him as an all-powerful being, extraordinary, raising + him, in her simplicity, to the greatness of an Olympian commanding the + thunder and lightning. She spoke to him, asking about his friends, his + business, but not daring to put the question she had asked de Gery: “Why + haven’t my grandchildren come?” But he spoke of them himself. “They are at + school, mother. Whenever the holidays begin they shall be sent with + Bompain. You remember Jean-Baptiste Bompain? And you shall keep them for + two long months. They will come to you and make you tell them stories, and + they will go to sleep with their heads on your lap—there, like + that.” + </p> + <p> + And he himself, putting his heavy, woolly head on her knee, remembered the + happy evenings of his childhood when he would go to sleep so, if she would + let him, and his brother had not taken up all the room. He tasted for the + first time since his return to France a few minutes of delicious peace + away from his restless and artificial life, as he lay pressed to his old + mother’s heart, in the deep silence of night and of the country which one + feels hovering over him in limitless space; the only sounds the beating of + that old faithful heart and the swing of the pendulum of the ancient clock + in the corner. Suddenly came the same long sigh, as of a child fallen + asleep sobbing. Jansoulet lifted his head and looked at his mother, and + softly asked: “Is it—?” “Yes,” she said, “I make him sleep there. He + might need me in the night.” + </p> + <p> + “I would like to see him, to embrace him.” + </p> + <p> + “Come, then.” She rose very gravely, took the lamp and went to the alcove, + of which she softly drew the large curtain, making a sign to her son to + draw near quietly. + </p> + <p> + He was sleeping. And no doubt something lived in him while he slept that + was not there when he waked, for instead of the flaccid immobility in + which he was congealed all day, he was now shaken by sudden starts, and on + the inexpressive and death-like face there were lines of pain and the + contractions of suffering life. Jansoulet, much affected, looked long at + those wasted features, faded and sickly, where the beard grew with a + surprising vigour. Then he bent down, put his lips to the damp brow, and + feeling him move, said very gravely and respectfully, as one speaks to the + head of the family, “Good-night, my brother.” Perhaps the captive soul had + heard it from the depths of its dark and abject limbo. For the lips moved + and a long moan answered him, a far-away wail, a despairing cry, which + filled with helpless tears the glance exchanged between Francoise and her + son, and tore from them both the same cry in which their sorrow met, + “Pecaire,” the local word which expressed all pity and all tenderness. + </p> + <p> + The next day, from early morning, the commotion began with the arrival of + the actors, an avalanche of hats and wigs and big boots, of short skirts + and affected cries, of floating veils and fresh make-ups. The women were + in a great majority, as Cardailhac thought that for a Bey the play was of + little consequence, and that all that was needful was to have catchy tunes + in pretty mouths, to show fine arms and shapely legs in the easy costume + of light opera. All the well-made celebrities of his theatre were there, + Amy Ferat at the head of them, a bold young woman who had already had her + teeth in the gold of several crowns. There were two or three well-known + men whose pale faces made the same kind of chalky and spectral spots amid + the green of the trees as the plaster of the statues. All these people, + enlivened by the journey, the surprise of the country, the overflowing + hospitality, as well as the hope of making something out of this sojourn + of Beys and Nabobs and other gilded fools, wanted only to play, to jest + and sing with the vulgar boisterousness of a crew of freshly discharged + Seine boatmen. But Cardailhac meant otherwise. No sooner were they + unpacked, freshened up, and luncheon over than, quick, the parts, the + rehearsals! There was no time to lose. They worked in the small + drawing-room next the summer gallery, where the theatre was already being + fitted up; and the noise of hammers, the songs from the burlesque, the + shrill voices, the conductor’s fiddle, mingled with the loud trumpet-like + calls of the peacocks, and rose upon the hot southern wind, which, not + recognising it as only the mad rattle of its own grasshoppers, shook it + all disdainfully on the trailing tip of its wings. + </p> + <p> + Seated in the centre of the terrace, as in the stage-box of his theatre, + Cardailhac watched the rehearsals, gave orders to a crowd of workmen and + gardeners, had trees cut down as spoiling the view, designed the triumphal + arches, sent off telegrams, express messengers to mayors, to sub-prefects, + to Arles—to arrange for a deputation of girls in national costume; + to Barbantane, where the best dancers are; to Faraman, famous for its wild + bulls and Camargue horses. And as the name of Jansoulet, joined to that of + the Bey of Tunis, flared at the end of all these messages, on all sides + they hastened to obey; the telegraph wires were never still, messengers + wore out horses on the roads. And this little Sardanapalus of the stage + called Cardailhac repeated ever, “There’s something to work on here,” + happy to scatter gold at random like handfuls of seed, to have a stage of + forty leagues to stir about—the whole of Provence, of which this + rabid Parisian was a native and whose picturesque resources he knew to the + core. + </p> + <p> + Dispossessed of her office, the old mother never appeared. She occupied + herself with the farm, and her invalid. She was terrified by this crowd of + visitors, these insolent servants whom it was difficult to know from the + masters, these women with their impudent and elegant airs, these + clean-shaven men who looked like bad priests—all these mad-caps who + chased each other at night in the corridors with pillows, with wet + sponges, with curtain tassels they had torn down, for weapons. Even after + dinner she no longer had her son; he was obliged to stay with his guests, + whose number grew each day as the <i>fetes</i> approached; not even the + resource of talking to M. Paul about her grandchildren was left, for + Jansoulet, a little embarrassed by the seriousness of his friend, had sent + him to spend a few days with his brothers. And the careful housekeeper, to + whom they came every minute asking the keys for linen, for a room, for + extra silver, thought of her piles of beautiful dishes, of the sacking of + her cupboards and larders, remembered the state in which the old Bey’s + visit had left the castle, devastated as by a cyclone, and said in her <i>patois</i> + as she feverishly wet the linen on her distaff: “May lightning strike + them, this Bey and all the Beys!” + </p> + <p> + At last the day came, the great day which is still spoken of in all the + country-side. Towards three o’clock in the afternoon, after a sumptuous + luncheon at which the old mother presided, this time in a new cap, over a + company composed of Parisian celebrities, prefects, deputies, all in full + uniform, mayors with their sashes, priests newshaven, Jansoulet in full + dress stepped out on to the terrace surrounded by his guests. He saw + before him in that splendid frame of magnificent natural scenery, in the + midst of flags and arches and coats of arms, a vast swarm of people, a + flare of brilliant costumes in rows on the slopes, at corners of the + walks; here, grouped in beds, like flowers on a lawn, the prettiest girls + of Arles, whose little dark heads showed delicately from beneath their + lace fichus; farther down were the dancers from Barbantane—eight + tambourine players in a line, ready to begin, their hands joined, ribbons + flying, hats cocked, and the red scarves round their hips; beyond them, on + the succeeding terraces were the choral societies in rows, dressed in + black with red caps, their standard-bearer in front, grave, important, his + teeth clinched, holding high his carved staff; farther down still, on a + vast circular space now arranged as an amphitheatre, were the black bulls, + and the herdsmen from Camargue seated on their long-haired white horses, + their high boots over their knees, at their wrists an uplifted spear; then + more flags, helmets, bayonets, and decorations right down to the triumphal + arch at the gates; as far as the eye could see, on the other side of the + Rhone (across which the two railways had made a pontoon bridge that they + might come straight from the station to Saint-Romans), whole villages were + assembling from every side, crowding to the Giffas road in a cloud of dust + and a confusion of cries, sitting at the hedge-sides, clinging to the + elms, squeezed in carts—a living wall for the procession. Above all + a great white sun which scintillated in every direction—on the + copper of a tambourine, on the point of a trident, on the fringe of a + banner; and in the midst the great proud Rhone carrying to the sea the + moving picture of this royal feast. Before these marvels, where shone all + the gold of his coffers, the Nabob had a sudden feeling of admiration and + of pride. + </p> + <p> + “This is beautiful,” he said, paling; and behind him his mother murmured, + “It is too beautiful for man. It is as if God were coming.” She was pale, + too, but with an unutterable fear. + </p> + <p> + The sentiment of the old Catholic peasant was indeed that which was + vaguely felt by all those people massed upon the roads as though for the + passing of a gigantic Corpus Christi procession, and whom this visit of an + Eastern prince to a child of their own country reminded of the legends of + the Magi, or the advent of Gaspard the Moor, bringing to the carpenter’s + son myrrh and the triple crown. + </p> + <p> + As Jansoulet was being warmly congratulated by every one, Cardailhac, who + had not been seen since morning, suddenly appeared, triumphant and + perspiring. “Didn’t I tell you there was something to work on! Eh? Isn’t + it fine? What a scene! I bet our Parisians would pay dear to be at such a + first performance as this!” And lowering his voice, on account of the + mother who was quite near, “Have you seen our country girls? No? Examine + them more closely—the first, the one in front, who is to present the + bouquet.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, it is Amy Ferat!” + </p> + <p> + “Just so. You see, old fellow, if the Bey should throw his handkerchief + amid that group of loveliness there must be some one to pick it up. They + wouldn’t understand, these innocents. Oh, I have thought of everything, + you will see. Everything is prepared and regulated just as on the stage. + Garden side—farm side.” + </p> + <p> + Here, to give an idea of the perfect organization, the manager raised his + stick. Immediately his gesture was repeated from the top to the bottom of + the park, and from the choral societies, from the brass bands, from the + tambourines, there burst forth the majestic strains of the popular + southern song, <i>Grand Soleil de la Provence</i>. Voices and instruments + rose in the sunlight, the banners filled, the dancers swayed to their + first movement, while on the other side of the river a report flew like a + breeze that the Bey had arrived unexpectedly by another route. The manager + made another gesture, and the immense orchestra was hushed. The response + was slower this time, there were little delays, a hail of words lost in + the leaves; but one could not expect more from a concourse of three + thousand people. Just then the carriages appeared, the state coaches which + had been used on the occasion of the last Bey’s visit—two large + chariots, pink and gold as at Tunis. Mme. Jansoulet had tended them almost + as holy relics, and they had come out of their coverings, with their + panels, their hangings and their gold fringes, as shining and new as the + day they were made. Here again Cardailhac’s ingenuity had been freely + exercised. He had thought horses looked too heavy for those unreal + fragilities, so he had harnessed instead eight mules, with white reins, + decorated with bows and pompons and bells, and caparisoned from head to + foot in that marvellous Esparto work—an art Provence has borrowed + from the Moors and perfected. How could the Bey not be pleased! + </p> + <p> + The Nabob, Monpavon, the prefect, and one of the generals got into the + first coach; the others filled the succeeding carriages. The priests and + the mayors, swelling with importance, rushed to the head of the choral + societies of their villages which were to go in front, and all moved off + along the road to Giffas. + </p> + <p> + The weather was magnificent, but hot and heavy, three months in advance of + the season, as often happens in this impetuous country, where everything + is in a hurry and comes too soon. Although there was not a cloud to be + seen, the stillness of the atmosphere—the wind had fallen suddenly + like a loose sail—dazzling and heated white, a silent solemnity + hanging over all, foretold a storm brewing in some corner of the horizon. + The immense torpor of things gradually influenced the living beings. One + heard too distinctly the tinkling mule-bells, the heavy steps in the dust + of the band of singers whom Cardailhac was placing at regular distances in + the seething human hedge which bordered the road and was lost in the + distance; a sudden call, children’s voices, and the cry of the + water-seller, that necessary accompaniment of all open-air festivals in + the Midi. + </p> + <p> + “Open your window, general, it is stifling,” said Monpavon, crimson, + fearing for his paint, and the lowered windows exposed to the populace + these high functionaries mopping their august faces, strained, agonized, + by the same expression of waiting—waiting for the Bey, for the + storm, waiting for something, in short. + </p> + <p> + Still another trimphal arch. It was at Giffas, its long, stony street + strewn with green palms, and its sordid houses gay with flowers and bright + hangings. The station was outside the village, white and square, stuck + like a thimble on the roadside—true type of a little country + station, lost in the midst of vineyards, never having any one in it except + perhaps sometimes an old woman and her parcels waiting in a corner, come + three hours before the time. + </p> + <p> + In honour of the Bey this slight building had been rigged out with flags, + adorned with rugs and divans; a splendid buffet had been fitted up with + sherbets, all ready for his Highness. Once there and out of the carriage + the Nabob tried to dispel the feeling of uneasiness which he, too, had + begun to suffer from. Prefects, generals, deputies, people in dress-coats + and uniforms, were standing about on the platform in imposing groups, + their faces solemn, their mouths pursed, their bodies swaying and jerking + in the knowing way of public functionaries who feel people are looking at + them. And you can imagine how noses were flattened against the windows to + see all this hierarchical swelldom. There was Monpavon, his shirt-front + bulging like a whipped egg. Cardailhac breathlessly giving his last + orders, and the honest face of Jansoulet, whose sparkling eyes, set over + his fat, sunburnt cheeks, looked like two gold nails in a goffering of + Spanish leather. Suddenly an electric bell rang. The station-master, in a + new uniform, ran down the line: “Gentlemen, the train is signalled. It + will be here in eight minutes.” Every one started, and with the same + instinctive movement pulled out their watches. Only six minutes more. Then + in the great silence some one said: “Look over there!” To the right, on + the side from which the train was to come, two great slopes, covered with + vines, made a sort of funnel into which the track disappeared as though + swallowed up. Just then all this hollow was as black as ink, darkened by + an enormous cloud, a bar of gloom, cutting the blue of the sky + perpendicularly, throwing out banks that resembled cliffs of basalt on + which the light broke all white like moonshine. In the solemnity of the + deserted track, over the lines of silent rails where one felt that + everything was ready for the coming of the prince, it was terrifying to + see this aerial crag approaching, throwing its shadow before it, to watch + the play of the perspective which gave the cloud a slow, majestic + movement, and the shadow the rapidity of a galloping horse. “What a storm + we shall have directly!” was the thought which came to every one, but none + had voice to express it, for a strident whistle sounded and the train + appeared at the end of the dark funnel. A real royal train, rapid and + short, and decorated with flags. The smoking, roaring engine carried a + large bouquet of roses on its breastplate, like a bridesmaid at some + leviathan wedding. + </p> + <p> + It came out of the funnel at full speed, but slowed down as it approached. + The functionaries grouped themselves, straightened their backs, hitched + their swords and eased their collars, while Jansoulet went down the track + to meet the train, an obsequious smile on his lips, his back curved ready + for the “Salam Alek.” The train proceeded very slowly. Jansoulet thought + it had stopped, and put his hand on the door of the royal carriage, + glittering with gold under the black sky. But, doubtless, the impetus had + been too strong, and the train continued to advance, the Nabob walking + beside it, trying to open the accursed door which was stuck fast, and + making signs to the engine-driver. The engine was not answering. “Stop, + stop, there!” It did not stop. Losing patience, he jumped on to the + velvet-covered step, and in that fiery, impulsive manner of his which had + so delighted the old Bey, he cried, his woolly head at the door, + “Saint-Romans station, your Highness.” + </p> + <p> + You know the sort of vague light there is in dreams, the colourless empty + atmosphere where everything has the look of a phantom. Jansoulet was + suddenly enveloped in this, stricken, paralyzed. He wanted to speak, words + would not come, his nerveless hand held the door so feebly that he almost + fell backward. What had he seen? On a divan at the back of the saloon, + reposing on his elbow, his beautiful dark head with its long silky beard + leaning on his hand, was the Bey, close wrapped in his Oriental coat, + without other ornaments than the large ribbon of the Legion of Honour + across his breast and the diamond in the aigrette of his fez. He was + fanning himself impassively with a little fan of gold-embroidered + strawwork. Two aides-de-camp and an engineer of the railway company were + standing beside him. Opposite, on another divan, in a respectful attitude, + but favoured evidently, as they were the only ones seated in the Bey’s + presence, were two owl-like men, their long whiskers falling on their + white ties, one fat and the other thin. They were the Hemerlingues, father + and son, who had won over his Highness and were bearing him off in triumph + to Paris. What a horrible dream! All three men, who knew Jansoulet well, + looked at him coldly as though his face recalled nothing. Piteously white, + his forehead covered with sweat, he stammered, “But, your Highness, are + you not going to—” A vivid flash of lightning, followed by a + terrible peal of thunder, stopped the words. But the lightning in the eyes + of his sovereign seemed to him as terrible. Sitting up, his arm + outstretched, in guttural voice as of one accustomed to roll the hard Arab + syllables, but in pure French, the Bey struck him down with the slow, + carefully prepared words: “Go home, swindler. The feet go where the heart + guides. Mine will never enter the house of the man who has cheated my + country.” + </p> + <p> + Jansoulet tried to say something. The Bey made a sign: “Go on.” The + engineer pressed a button, a whistle replied, the train, which had never + really stopped, seemed to stretch itself, making all its iron muscles + crack, to take a bound and start off at full speed, the flags fluttering + in the storm-wind, and the black smoke meeting the lightning flashes. + </p> + <p> + Jansoulet, left standing on the track, staggering, stunned, ruined, + watched his fortune fly away and disappear, oblivious of the large drops + of rain which were falling on his bare head. Then, when the others rushed + upon him, surrounded him, rained questions upon him, he stuttered some + disconnected words: “Court intrigues—infamous plot.” And suddenly, + shaking his fist after the train, with eyes that were bloodshot, and a + foam of rage upon his lips, he roared like a wild beast, “Blackguards!” + </p> + <p> + “You forget yourself, Jansoulet, you forget yourself.” You guess who it + was that uttered those words, and, taking the Nabob’s arm, tried to pull + him together, to make him hold his head as high as his own, conducted him + to the carriage through the rows of stupefied people in uniform, and made + him get in, exhausted and broken, like a near relation of the deceased + that one hoists into a mourning-coach after the funeral. The rain began to + fall, peals of thunder followed one another. Every one now hurried into + the carriages, which quickly took the homeward road. Then there occurred a + heart-rending yet comical thing, one of the cruel farces played by that + cowardly destiny which kicks its victims after they are down. In the + falling day and the growing darkness of the cyclone, the crowd, squeezed + round the approaches of the station, thought they saw his Highness + somewhere amid the gorgeous trappings, and as soon as the wheels started + an immense clamour, a frightful bawling, which had been hatching for an + hour in all those breasts, burst out, rose, rolled, rebounded from side to + side and prolonged itself in the valley. “Hurrah, hurrah for the Bey!” + This was the signal for the first bands to begin, the choral societies + started in their turn, and the noise growing step by step, the road from + Giffas to Saint-Romans was nothing but an uninterrupted bellow. Cardailhac + and all the gentlemen, Jansoulet himself, leant in vain out of the windows + making desperate signs, “That will do! That’s enough!” Their gestures were + lost in the tumult and the darkness; what the crowd did see seemed to act + only as an excitant. And I promise you there was no need of that. All + these meridionals, whose enthusiasm had been carefully led since early + morning, excited the more by the long wait and the storm, shouted with all + the force of their voices and the strength of their lungs, mingling with + the song of Provence the cry of “Hurrah for the Bey!” till it seemed a + perpetual chorus. Most of them had no idea what a Bey was, did not even + think about it. They accentuated the appellation in an extraordinary + manner as though it had three b’s and ten y’s. But it made no difference, + they excited themselves with the cry, holding up their hands, waving their + hats, becoming agitated as a result of their own activity. Women wept and + rubbed their eyes. Suddenly, from the top of an elm, the shrill voice of a + child made itself heard: “Mamma, mamma—I see him!” He saw him! They + all saw him, for that matter! Now even, they will all swear to you they + saw him! + </p> + <p> + Confronted by such a delirium, in the impossibility of imposing silence + and calm on such a crowd, there was only one thing for the people in the + carriages to do: to leave them alone, pull up the windows and dash along + at full speed. It would at least shorten a bitter martyrdom. But this was + even worse. Seeing the procession hurrying, all the road began to gallop + with it. To the dull booming of their tambourines the dancers from + Barbantane, hand in hand, sprang—a living garland—round the + carriage doors. The choral societies, breathless with singing as they ran, + but singing all the same, dragged on their standard-bearers, the banners + now hanging over their shoulders; and the good, fat priests, red and + panting, shoving their vast overworked bellies before them, still found + strength to shout into the very ear of the mules, in an unctuous, effusive + voice, “Long live our noble Bey!” The rain on all this, the rain falling + in buckets, discolouring the pink coaches, precipitating the disorder, + giving the appearance of a rout to this triumphal return, but a comic + rout, mingled with songs and laughs, mad embraces, and infernal oaths. It + was something like the return of a religious procession flying before a + storm, cassocks turned up, surplices over heads, and the Blessed Sacrament + put back in all haste, under a porch. + </p> + <p> + The dull roll of the wheels over the wooden bridge told the poor Nabob, + motionless and silent in a corner of his carriage, that they were almost + there. “At last!” he said, looking through the clouded windows at the + foaming waters of the Rhone, whose tempestuous rush seemed calm after what + he had just suffered. But at the end of the bridge, when the first + carriage reached the great triumphal arch, rockets went off, drums beat, + saluting the monarch as he entered the estates of his faithful subject. To + crown the irony, in the gathering darkness a gigantic flare of gas + suddenly illuminated the roof of the castle, and in spite of the wind and + the rain, these fiery letters could still be seen very plainly, “Long liv’ + th’ B’Y ‘HMED!” + </p> + <p> + “That—that is the wind-up,” said the poor Nabob, who could not help + laughing, though it was a very piteous and bitter laugh. But no, he was + mistaken. The end was the bouquet waiting at the castle door. Amy Ferat + came to present it, leaving the group of country maidens under the + veranda, where they were trying to shelter the shining silks of their + skirts and the embroidered velvets of their caps as they waited for the + first carriage. Her bunch of flowers in her hand, modest, her eyes + downcast, but showing a roguish leg, the pretty actress sprang forward to + the door in a low courtesy, almost on her knees, a pose she had worked at + for a week. Instead of the Bey, Jansoulet got out, stiff and troubled, and + passed without even seeing her. And as she stayed there, bouquet in hand, + with the silly look of a stage fairy who has missed her cue, Cardailhac + said to her with the ready chaff of the Parisian who is never at a loss: + “Take away your flowers, my dear. The Bey is not coming. He had forgotten + his handkerchief, and as it is only with that he speaks to ladies, you + understand—” + </p> + <p> + Now it is night. Everything is asleep at Saint-Romans after the tremendous + uproar of the day. Torrents of rain continue to fall; and in the park, + where the triumphal arches and the Venetian masts still lift vaguely their + soaking carcasses, one can hear streams rushing down the slopes + transformed into waterfalls. Everything streams or drips. A noise of + water, an immense noise of water. Alone in his sumptuous room, with its + lordly bed all hung with purple silks, the Nabob is still awake, turning + over his own black thoughts as he strides to and fro. It is not the + affront, that public outrage before all these people, that occupies him, + it is not even the gross insult the Bey had flung at him in the presence + of his mortal enemies. No, this southerner, whose sensations were all + physical and as rapid as the firing of new guns, had already thrown off + the venom of his rancour. And then, court favourites, by famous examples, + are always prepared for these sudden falls. What terrifies him is that + which he guesses to lie behind this affront. He reflects that all his + possessions are over there, firms, counting-houses, ships, all at the + mercy of the Bey, in that lawless East, that country of the ruler’s + good-pleasure. Pressing his burning brow to the streaming windows, his + body in a cold sweat, his hands icy, he remains looking vaguely out into + the night, as dark, as obscure as his own future. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly a noise of footsteps, of precipitate knocks at the door. + </p> + <p> + “Who is there?” + </p> + <p> + “Sir,” said Noel, coming in half dressed, “it is a very urgent telegram + that has been sent from the post-office by special messenger.” + </p> + <p> + “A telegram! What can there be now?” + </p> + <p> + He takes the envelope and opens it with shaking fingers. The god, struck + twice already, begins to feel himself vulnerable, to know the fears, the + nervous weakness of other men. Quick—to the signature. MORA! Is it + possible? The duke—the duke to him! Yes, it is indeed—M-O-R-A. + And above it: “Popolasca is dead. Election coming in Corsica. You are + official candidate.” + </p> + <p> + Deputy! It was salvation. With that, nothing to fear. No one dares treat a + representative of the great French nation as a mere swindler. The + Hemerlingues were finely defeated. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my duke, my noble duke!” + </p> + <p> + He was so full of emotion that he could not sign his name. Suddenly: + “Where is the man who brought this telegram?” + </p> + <p> + “Here, M. Jansoulet,” replied a jolly south-country voice from the + corridor. + </p> + <p> + He was lucky, that postman. + </p> + <p> + “Come in,” said the Nabob. And giving him the receipt, he took in a heap + from his pockets—ever full—as many gold pieces as his hands + could hold, and threw them into the cap of the poor fellow, who stuttered, + distracted and dazzled by the fortune showered upon him, in the night of + this fairy palace. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0015" id="link2H_4_0015"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + A CORSICAN ELECTION + </h2> + <h3> + Pozzonegro—near Sartene. + </h3> + <p> + At last I can give you my news, dear M. Joyeuse. During the five days we + have been in Corsica we have rushed about so much, made so many speeches, + so often changed carriages and mounts—now on mules, now on asses, or + even on the backs of men for crossing the torrents—written so many + letters, noted so many requests, visited so many schools, presented + chasubles, altar-cloths, renewed cracked bells, and founded kindergartens; + we have inaugurated so many things, proposed so many toasts, listened to + so many harangues, consumed so much Talano wine and white cheese, that I + have not found time to send even a greeting to the little family circle + round the big table, from which I have been missing these two months. + Happily my absence will not be for much longer, as we expect to leave the + day after to-morrow, and are coming straight back to Paris. From the + electioneering point of view, I think our journey has been a success. + Corsica is an admirable country, indolent and poor, a mixture of poverty + and pride, which makes both the nobles and the middle classes strive to + keep up an appearance of easy circumstances at the price of the most + painful privations. They speak quite seriously of Popolasca’s fortune—that + needy deputy whom death robbed of the four thousand pounds his resignation + in favour of the Nabob would have brought him. All these people have, as + well, an administrative mania, a thirst for places which give them any + sort of uniform, and a cap to wear with the words “Government official” + written on it. If you gave a Corsican peasant the choice between the + richest farm in France and the shabbiest sword-belt of a village + policeman, he would not hesitate and would take the belt. In that + conditions of things, you may imagine what chances of election a candidate + has who can dispose of a personal fortune and the Government favours. + Thus, M. Jansoulet will be elected; and especially if he succeeds in his + present undertaking, which has brought us here to the only inn of a little + place called Pozzonegro (black well). It is a regular well, black with + foliage, consisting of fifty small red-stone houses clustered round a long + Italian church, at the bottom of a ravine between rigid hills and coloured + sandstone rocks, over which stretch immense forests of larch and juniper + trees. From my open window, at which I am writing, I see up above there a + bit of blue sky, the orifice of the well; down below on the little square—which + a huge nut-tree shades as though the shadows were not already thick enough—two + shepherds clothed in sheep-skins are playing at cards, with their elbows + on the stone of a fountain. Gambling is the bane of this land of idleness, + where they get men from Lucca to do their harvesting. The two poor + wretches I see probably haven’t a farthing between them, but one bets his + knife against a cheese wrapped up in vine leaves, and the stakes lie + between them on the bench. A little priest smokes his cigar as he watches + them, and seems to take the liveliest interest in their game. + </p> + <p> + And that is not all. Not a sound anywhere except the drops of water on the + stone, the oaths of one of the players who swears by the <i>sango del + seminaro</i>, and from underneath my room in the inn parlour the eager + voice of our friend mingling with the sputterings of the illustrious + Paganetti, who is interpreter, in his conversation with the not less + illustrious Piedigriggio. + </p> + <p> + M. Piedigriggio (gray feet) is a local celebrity. He is a tall, old man of + seventy-five, with a flowing beard and a straight back. He wears a little + pilot coat, a brown wool Catalonian cap on his white locks. At his belt he + carries a pair of scissors to cut the long leaves of the green tobacco he + smokes into the hollow of his hand. A venerable-looking person in fact, + and when he crossed the square, shaking hands with the priest, smiling + protectingly at the gamblers, I would never have believed that I was + looking at the famous brigand Piedigriggio, who held the woods in + Monte-Rotondo from 1840 to 1860, outwitted the police and the military, + and who to-day, thanks to the proscription by which he benefits, after + seven or eight cold-blooded murders, moves peaceably about the country + which witnessed his crimes, and enjoys a considerable importance. This is + why: Piedigriggio has two sons who, nobly following in his footsteps, have + taken to the carbine and the woods, in their turn not to be found, not to + be caught, as their father was, for twenty years; warned by the shepherds + of the movements of the police, when the latter leave a village, they make + their appearance in it. The eldest, Scipio, came to mass last Sunday at + Pozzonegro. To say they love them, and that the bloody hand-shake of those + wretches is a pleasure to all who harbour them, would be to calumniate the + peaceful inhabitants of this parish. But they fear them, and their will is + law. + </p> + <p> + Now, these Piedigriggios have taken it into their heads to favour our + opponent in the election. And their influence is a formidable power, for + they can make two whole cantons vote against us. They have long legs, the + rascals, as long in proportion as the reach of their guns. Naturally, we + have the police on our side, but the brigands are far more powerful. As + our innkeeper said this morning: “The police, they go away; <i>ma</i> the + <i>banditti</i> they stay.” In the face of this logical reasoning we + understood that the only thing to be done was to treat with the Gray-feet, + to try a “job,” in fact. The mayor said something of this to the old man, + who consulted his sons, and it is the conditions of this treaty they are + discussing downstairs. I hear the voice of our general director, “Come, my + dear fellow, you know I am an old Corsican myself,” and then the other’s + quiet replies, broken, like his tobacco, by the irritating noise of his + scissors. The “dear fellow” does not seem to have much confidence, and + until the coin is ringing upon the table I fancy there will not be any + advance. + </p> + <p> + You see, Paganetti is known in his native country. The worth of his word + is written on the square in Corte, still waiting for the monument to + Paoli, on the vast fields of carrots which he has managed to plant on the + Island of Ithaca, in the gaping empty purses of all those unfortunate + small tradesmen, village priests, and petty nobility, whose poor savings + he has swallowed up dazzling their eyes with chimerical <i>combinazioni</i>. + Truly, for him to dare to come back here, it needed all his phenomenal + audacity, as well as the resources now at his disposal to satisfy all + claims. + </p> + <p> + And, indeed, what truth is there in the fabulous works undertaken by the + Territorial Bank? + </p> + <p> + None. + </p> + <p> + Mines, which produce nothing and never will produce anything, for they + exist only on paper; quarries, which are still innocent of pick or + dynamite, tracts of uncultivated sandy land that they survey with a + gesture, telling you, “We begin here, and we go right over there, as far + as you like.” It is the same with the forests. The whole of a wooded hill + in Monte-Rotondo belongs to us, it seems, but the felling of the trees is + impossible unless aeronauts undertake the woodman’s work. It is the same + with the watering-places, among which this miserable hamlet of Pozzonegro + is one of the most important, with its fountain whose astonishing + ferruginous properties Paganetti advertises. Of the streamers, not a + shadow. Stay—an old, half-ruined Genoese tower on the shore of the + Gulf of Ajaccio bears on a tarnished escutcheon, above its hermetically + sealed doors, this inscription: “Paganetti’s Agency. Maritime Company. + Inquiry Office.” Fat, gray lizards tend the office in company with an owl. + As for the railways, all these honest Corsicans to whom I spoke of it + smiled knowingly, replied with winks and mysterious hints, and it was only + this morning that I had the exceedingly buffoonish explanation of all this + reticence. + </p> + <p> + I had read among the documents which the director-general flaunts in our + eyes from time to time, like a fan to puff up his impostures, the bill of + sale of a marble quarry at a place said to be “Taverna,” two hours’ + distance from Pozzonegro. Profiting by our stay here, I got on a mule this + morning, without telling any one, and guided by a tall scamp of a fellow + with legs like a deer—true type of a Corsican poacher or smuggler, + his thick, red pipe in his mouth, his gun in a bandoleer—I went to + Taverna. After a fearful progress across cracked rocks and bogs, past + abysses of unsoundable depths—on the very edges of which my mule + maliciously walked as though to mark them out with her shoes—we + arrived, by an almost perpendicular descent, at the end of our journey. It + was a vast desert of rocks, absolutely bare, all white with the droppings + of gulls and sea-fowl, for the sea is at the bottom, quite near, and the + silence of the place was broken only by the flow of the waves and the + shrill cries of the wheeling circles of birds. My guide, who has a holy + horror of excisemen and the police, stayed above on the cliff, because of + a little coastguard station posted like a watchman on the shore. I made + for a large red building which still maintained, in this burning solitude + its three stories, in spite of broken windows and ruinous tiles. Over the + worm-eaten door was an immense sign-board: “Territorial Bank. Carr——bre——54.” + The wind, the sun, the rain, have wiped out the rest. + </p> + <p> + There has been there, certainly, a commencement of operations, for a large + square, gaping hole, cut out with a punch, is still open in the ground, + showing along its crumbling sides, like a leopard’s spots, red slabs with + brown veins, and at the bottom, in the brambles, enormous blocks of the + marble, called in the trade “black-heart” (marble spotted with red and + brown), condemned blocks that no one could make anything of for want of a + road leading to the quarry or a harbour to make the coast accessible for + freight ships, and for want, above all, of subsidies considerable enough + to carry out one or the other of these two projects. So the quarry remains + abandoned, at a few cable-lengths from the shore, as cumbrous and useless + as Robinson Crusoe’s canoe in the same unfortunate circumstances. These + details of the heart-rending story of our sole territorial wealth were + furnished by a miserable caretaker, shaking with fever, whom I found in + the low-ceilinged room of the yellow house trying to roast a piece of kid + over the acrid smoke of a pistachio bush. + </p> + <p> + This man, who in himself is the whole staff of the Territorial Bank in + Corsica, is Paganetti’s foster-father, an old lighthouse-keeper upon whom + the solitude does not weigh. Our director-general leaves him there partly + for charity and partly because letters dated from the Taverna quarry, now + and again, make a good show at the shareholders’ meetings. I had the + greatest difficulty extracting a little information from this poor + creature, three parts savage, who looked upon me with cautious mistrust, + half hidden behind the long hair of his goat-skin <i>pelone</i>. He told + me, however, without intending it, what the Corsicans understand by the + word “railway,” and why they put on mysterious airs when they speak of it. + As I was trying to find out if he knew anything about the scheme for a + railway in the country, this old man, instead of smiling knowingly like + his compatriots, said, quite naturally, in passable French, his voice + rusty and benumbed like an ancient, little-used lock: + </p> + <p> + “Oh, sir, no need of a railway here.” + </p> + <p> + “But it would be most valuable, most useful; it would facilitate + communications.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t say no; but with the police we have enough here.” + </p> + <p> + “The policemen?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly.” + </p> + <p> + This <i>quid pro quo</i> went on for some five minutes before I discovered + that here the secret police service is called “the railway.” As there are + many Corsican policemen on the Continent they use this euphemism to + designate the ignoble calling they follow. You inquire of the relations, + “Where is your brother Ambrosini? What is your uncle Barbicaglia doing?” + They will answer with a little wink, “He has a place on the railway,” and + every one knows what that means. Among the people, the peasants, who have + never seen a railway and don’t know what it is, it is quite seriously + believed that the great occult administration of the Imperial police has + no other name than that. Our principal agent in the country shares this + touching simplicity of belief. It shows you the real state of the “Line + from Ajaccio to Bastia, passing by Bonifacio, Porto Vecchio, etc.,” as it + is written on the big, green-backed books of the house of Paganetti. In + fact all the goods of the Territorial Bank consist of a few sign-boards + and two ruins, the whole not worthy of lying in the “old materials” yard + in the Rue Saint-Ferdinand; every night as I go to sleep I hear the old + vanes grating and the old doors banging on emptiness. + </p> + <p> + But in this case, where have gone, where are going now, the enormous sums + M. Jansoulet has spent during the last five months—not to count what + came from the outside, attracted by the magic of his name? I thought, as + you did, that all these soundings, borings, purchasings of land that the + books set forth in fine round-hand were exaggerated beyond measure. But + who could suspect such effrontery? This is why the director was so opposed + to the idea of bringing me on the electioneering trip. I don’t want to + have an explanation now. My poor Nabob has quite enough trouble in this + election. Only, whenever we get back, I shall lay before him all the + details of my long inquiry, and, whether he wants it or not, I will get + him out of this den of thieves. They have finished below. Old Piedigriggio + is crossing the square, pulling up the slip-knot of his long peasant’s + purse, which looks to me well filled. The bargain is made, I conclude. + Good-bye, hurriedly, my dear M. Joyeuse; remember me to your daughters and + ask them to keep a tiny little place for me round the work-table. + </p> + <p> + PAUL DE GERY. + </p> + <p> + The electioneering whirlwind which had enveloped them in Corsica, crossed + the sea behind them like a blast of the sirocco and filled the flat in the + Place Vendome with a mad wind of folly. It was overrun from morning to + night by the habitual element, augmented now by a constant arrival of + little dark men, brown as the locust-bean, with regular features and thick + beards, some turbulent and talkative, like Paganetti, others silent, + self-contained and dogmatic: the two types of the race upon which the same + climate produces different effects. All these famished islanders, in the + depths of their savage country, promised each other to meet at the Nabob’s + table. His house had become an inn, a restaurant, a market-place. In the + dining-room, where the table was kept constantly laid, there was always to + be found some newly arrived Corsican, with the bewildered and greedy + appearance of a country cousin, having something to eat. + </p> + <p> + The boasting, clamorous race of election agents is the same everywhere; + but these were unusually fiery, had a zeal even more impassioned and the + vanity of turkey-cocks, all worked up to white heat. The most + insignificant recorder, inspector, mayor’s secretary, village + schoolmaster, spoke as if he had the whole country behind him, and the + pockets of his threadbare black coat full of votes. And it is a fact, in + Corsican parishes (Jansoulet had seen it for himself) families are so old, + have sprung from so little, have so many ramifications, that any poor + fellow breaking stones on the road is able to claim relationship with the + greatest personages of the island, and is thereby able to exert a serious + influence. These complications are aggravated still more by the national + temperament, which is proud, secretive, scheming, and vindictive; so it + follows that one has to be careful how one walks amid the network of + threads stretching from one extremity of the people to the other. + </p> + <p> + The worst was that all these people were jealous of each other, detested + each other, and quarrelled across the table about the election, exchanging + black looks and grasping the handles of their knives at the least + contradiction. They spoke very loud and all at once, some in the hard, + sonorous Genoese dialect, and others in the most comical French, all + choking with suppressed oaths. They threw in each other’s teeth names of + unknown villages, dates of local scandals, which suddenly revived between + two fellow guests two centuries of family hatreds. The Nabob was afraid of + seeing his luncheons end tragically, and strove to calm all this violence + and conciliate them with his large good-natured smile. But Paganetti + reassured him. According to him, the vendetta, though still existing in + Corsica, no longer employs the stiletto or the rifle except very rarely, + and among the lowest classes. The anonymous letter had taken their place. + Indeed, every day unsigned letters were received at the Place Vendome + written in this style: + </p> + <p> + “M. Jansoulet, you are so generous that I cannot do less than point out to + you that the Sieur Bornalinco (Ange-Marie) is a traitor, bought by your + enemies. I could say very differently about his cousin Bornalinco + (Louis-Thomas), who is devoted to the good cause, etc.” + </p> + <p> + Or again: + </p> + <p> + “M. Jansoulet, I fear your chances of election will come to nothing, and + are on a poor foundation for success if you continue to employ one named + Castirla (Josue), of the parish of Omessa. His relative, Luciani, is the + man you need.” + </p> + <p> + Although he no longer read any of these missives, the poor candidate + suffered from the disturbing effect of all these doubts and of all these + unchained passions. Caught in the gearing of those small intrigues, full + of fears, mistrustful, curious, feverish, he felt in every aching nerve + the truth of the Corsican proverb, “The greatest ill you can wish your + enemy is an election in his house.” + </p> + <p> + It may be imagined that the check-book and the three deep drawers in the + mahogany cabinet were not spared by this hoard of devouring locusts which + had fallen upon “Moussiou Jansoulet’s” dwelling. Nothing could be more + comic than the haughty manner in which these good islanders effected their + loans, briskly, and with an air of defiance. At the same time it was not + they who were the worst—except for the boxes of cigars which sank in + their pockets as though they all meant to open a “Civette” on their return + to their own country. For just as the very hot weather inflames and + envenoms old sores, so the election had given an astonishing new growth to + the pillaging already established in the house. Money was demanded for + advertising expenses, for Moessard’s articles, which were sent to Corsica + in bales of thousands of copies, with portraits, biographies, pamphlets—all + the printed clamour that it was possible to raise round a name. And always + the usual work of the suction-pumps went on, those pumps now fixed to this + great reservoir of millions. Here, the Bethlehem Society, a powerful + machine working with regular, slow-recurring strokes, full of impetus; the + Territorial Bank, a marvellous exhauster, indefatigable, with triple and + quadruple rows of pumps, several thousand horse-power, the Schwalbach + pump, the Bois l’Hery pump, and how many others as well? Some enormous and + noisy with screaming pistons, some quite dumb and discreet with + clack-valves knowingly oiled, pumps with tiny valves, dear little pumps as + fine as the sting of insects, and like them, leaving a poison in the place + whence they have drawn life; all working together and bound to bring about + if not a complete drought, at least a serious lowering of level. + </p> + <p> + Already evil rumours, vague as yet, were going the round of the Bourse. + Was this a move of the enemy? For Jansoulet was waging a furious money war + against Hemerlingue, trying to thwart all his financial operations, and + was losing considerable sums at the game. He had against him his own fury, + his adversary’s coolness, and the blunderings of Paganetti, who was his + man of straw. In any case his golden star was no longer in the ascendant. + Paul de Gery knew this through Joyeuse, who was now a stock-broker’s + accountant and well up in the doings on the Bourse. What troubled him + most, however, was the Nabob’s singular agitation, his need of constant + distraction which had succeeded his former splendid calm of strength and + security, the loss, too, of his southern sobriety. He kept himself in a + continual state of excitement, drinking great glasses of <i>raki</i> + before his meals, laughing long, talking loud, like a rough sailor ashore. + You felt that here was a man overdoing himself to escape from some heavy + care. It showed, however, in the sudden contraction of all the muscles of + his face, as some unhappy thought crossed his mind, or when he feverishly + turned the pages of his little gilt-edged note-book. The serious interview + that Paul wanted so much Jansoulet would not give him at any price. He + spent his nights at the club, his mornings in bed, and from the moment he + awoke his room was full of people who talked to him as he dressed, and to + whom he replied, sponge in hand. If, by a miracle, de Gery caught him + alone for a second, he fled, stopping his words with a “Not now, not now, + I beg of you.” In the end the young man had recourse to drastic measures. + </p> + <p> + One morning, towards five o’clock, when Jansoulet came home from his club, + he found a letter on the table near his bed. At first he took it to be one + of the many anonymous denunciations he received daily. It was indeed a + denunciation, but it was signed and undisguised; and it breathed in every + word the loyalty and the earnest youthfulness of him who wrote it. De Gery + pointed out very clearly all the infamies and all the double dealing which + surrounded him. With no beating about the bush he called the rogues by + their names. There was not one of the usual guests whom he did not + suspect, not one who came with any other object than to steal and to lie. + From the top to the bottom of the house all was pillage and waste. Bois + l’Hery’s horses were unsound, Schwalbach’s gallery was a swindle, + Moessard’s articles a recognised blackmail. De Gery had made a long + detailed memorandum of these scandalous abuses, with proofs in support of + it. But he specially recommended to Jansoulet’s attention the accounts of + the Territorial Bank as the real danger of the situation. Attracted by the + Nabob’s name, as chairman of the company, hundreds of shareholders had + fallen into the infamous trap—poor seekers of gold, following the + lucky miner. In the other matters it was only money he lost; here his + honour was at stake. He would discover what a terrible responsibility lay + upon him if he examined the papers of the business, which was only + deception and cheatery from one end to the other. + </p> + <p> + “You will find the memorandum of which I speak,” said Paul de Gery, at the + end of his letter, “in the top drawer of my desk along with sundry + receipts. I have not put them in your room, because I mistrust Noel like + the rest. When I go away to-night I will give you the key. For I am going + away, my dear benefactor and friend, I am going away full of gratitude for + the good you have done me, and heartbroken that your blind confidence has + prevented me from repaying you even in part. As things are now, my + conscience as an honest man will not let me stay any longer useless at my + post. I am looking on at a disaster, at the sack of a palace, which I can + do nothing to prevent. My heart burns at all I see. I give handshakes + which shame me. I am your friend, and I seem their accomplice. And who + knows that if I went on living in such an atmosphere I might not become + one?” + </p> + <p> + This letter, which he read slowly and carefully, even between the lines + and through the words, made so great an impression on the Nabob that, + instead of going to bed, he went at once to find his young secretary. De + Gery had a study at the end of the row of public rooms where he slept on a + sofa. It had been a provisional arrangement, but he had preferred not to + change it. + </p> + <p> + The house was still asleep. As he was crossing the lofty rooms, filled + with the vague light of a Parisian dawn (those blinds were never lowered, + as no evening receptions were held there), the Nabob stopped, struck by + the look of sad defilement his luxury wore. In the heavy odour of tobacco + and various liqueurs which hung over everything, the furniture, the + ceilings, the woodwork could be seen, already faded and still new. Spots + on the crumpled satins, ashes staining the beautiful marbles, dirty + footmarks on the carpets. It reminded one of a huge first-class railway + carriage incrusted with all the laziness, the impatience, the boredom of a + long journey, and all the wasteful, spoiling disdain of the public for a + luxury for which it has paid. In the middle of this set scene, still warm + from the atrocious comedy played there every day, his own image, reflected + in twenty cold and staring looking-glasses, stood out before him, + forbidding yet comical, in absolute contrast to his elegant clothes, his + eyes swollen, his face bloated and inflamed. + </p> + <p> + What an obvious and disenchanting to-morrow to the mad life he was + leading! + </p> + <p> + He lost himself for a moment in dreary thought; then he gave his shoulders + a vigorous shake, a movement frequent with him—it was like a peddler + shifting his pack—as though to rid himself of too cruel cares, and + again took up the burden every man carried with him, which bows his back, + more or less, according to his courage or his strength, and went into de + Gery’s room, who was already up, standing at his desk sorting papers. + </p> + <p> + “First of all, my friend,” said Jansoulet, softly shutting the door for + their interview, “answer me frankly. Is it really for the motives given in + your letter that you have resolved to leave me? Is there not, beneath it + all, one of those scandals that I know are being circulated in Paris + against me? I am sure you would be loyal enough to warn me and to give me + the opportunity of—of clearing myself to you.” + </p> + <p> + Paul assured him that he had no other reasons for going, but that those + were surely sufficient, since it was a matter of conscience. + </p> + <p> + “Then, my boy, listen to me, and I am sure of keeping you. Your letter, so + eloquent of honesty and sincerity, has told me nothing that I have not + been convinced of for three months. Yes, my dear Paul, you were right. + Paris is more complicated than I thought. What I needed, when I arrived, + was an honest and disinterested cicerone to put me on my guard against + people and things. I met only swindlers. Every worthless rascal in the + town has left the mud of his boots on my carpets. I was looking at them + just now—my poor drawing-rooms. They need a fine sweeping out. And I + swear to you they shall have it, by God, and with no light hand! But I + must wait for that until I am a deputy. All these scoundrels are of use to + me for the election, and this election is far too necessary now for me to + risk losing the smallest chance. In a word, this is the situation: Not + only does the Bey mean to keep the money I lent him three months ago, but + he has replied to my summons by a counter action for eighty millions, the + sum out of which he says I cheated his brother. It is a frightful theft, + an audacious libel. My fortune is mine, my own. I made it by my trade as a + merchant. I had Ahmed’s favour; he gave me the opportunity of becoming + rich. It is possible I may have put on the screw a little tightly + sometimes. But one must not judge these things from a European standpoint. + Over there, the enormous profits the Levantines make is an accepted fact—a + known thing. It is the ransom those savages pay for the western comfort we + bring them. That wretch Hemerlingue, who is suggesting all this + persecution against me, has done just as much. But what is the use of + talking? I am in the lion’s jaws. While waiting for me to go to defend + myself at his tribunals—and how I know it, justice of the Orient!—the + Bey has begun by putting an embargo on all my goods, ships, and palaces, + and what they contain. The affair was conducted quite regularly by a + decree of the Supreme Court. Young Hemerlingue had a hand in that, you can + see. If I am made a deputy, it is only a joke. The court takes back its + decree and they give me back my treasure with every sort of excuse. If I + am not elected I lose everything, sixty, eighty millions, even the + possibility of making another fortune. It is ruin, disgrace, dishonour. + Are you going to abandon me in such a crisis? Think—I have only you + in the whole world. My wife—you have seen her, you know what help, + what support she is to her husband. My children—I might as well not + have any. I never see them; they would scarcely know me in the street. My + horrible wealth has killed all affection around me and has enveloped me + with shameless self-seeking. I have only my mother to love me, and she is + far away, and you who came to me from my mother. No, you will not leave me + alone amid all the scandals that are creeping around me. It is awful—if + you only knew! At the club, at the play, wherever I go I seem to see the + little viper’s head of the Baroness Hemerlingue, I hear the echo of her + hiss, I feel the venom of her bite. Everywhere mocking looks, conversation + stopped when I appear, lying smiles, or kindness mixed with a little pity. + And then the deserters, and the people who keep out of the way as at the + approach of a misfortune. Look at Felicia Ruys: just as she had finished + my bust she pretends that some accident, I know not what, has happened to + it, in order to avoid having to send it to the <i>Salon</i>. I said + nothing, I affected to believe her. But I understood that there again was + some new evil report. And it is such a disappointment to me. In a crisis + as grave as this everything has its importance. My bust in the exhibition, + signed by that famous name, would have helped me greatly in Paris. But no, + everything falls away, every one fails me. You see now that I cannot do + without you. You must not desert me.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0016" id="link2H_4_0016"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + A DAY OF SPLEEN + </h2> + <p> + Five o’clock in the afternoon. Rain since morning and a gray sky low + enough to be reached with an umbrella; the close weather which sticks. + Mess, mud, nothing but mud, in heavy puddles, in shining trails in the + gutters, vainly chased by the street-scrapers and the scavengers, heaved + into enormous carts which carry it slowly towards Montreuil—promenading + it in triumph through the streets, always moving, and always springing up + again, growing through the pavements, splashing the panels of the + carriages, the breasts of the horses, the clothes of the passers-by, + spattering the windows, the door-steps, the shop-fronts, till one feared + that the whole of Paris would sink and disappear under this sorrowful, + miry soil where everything dissolves and is lost in mud. And it moves one + to pity to see the invasion of this dirt on the whiteness of the new + houses, on the parapets of the quays, and on the colonnades of the stone + balconies. There is some one, however, who rejoices at the sight, a poor, + sick, weary being, lying all her length on a silk-embroidered divan, her + chin on her clinched fists. She is looking out gladly through the dripping + windows and delighting in all the ugliness. + </p> + <p> + “Look, my fairy! this is indeed the weather I wanted to-day. See them + draggling along! Aren’t they hideous? Aren’t they dirty? What mire! It is + everywhere—in the streets, on the quays, right down to the Seine, + right up to the heavens. I tell you, mud is good when one is sad. I would + like to play in it, to make sculpture with it—a statue a hundred + feet high, that should be called ‘My weariness.’” + </p> + <p> + “But why are you so miserable, dearest?” said the old dancer gently, + amiable and pink, and sitting straight in her seat for fear of + disarranging her hair, which was even more carefully dressed than usual. + “Haven’t you everything to make you happy?” And for the hundredth time she + enumerated in her tranquil voice the reasons for her happiness: her glory, + her genius, her beauty, all the men at her feet, the handsomest, the + greatest—oh! yes, the very greatest, as this very day—But a + terrible howl, like the heart-rending cry of the jackal exasperated by the + monotony of his desert, suddenly made all the studio windows shake, and + frightened the old and startled little chrysalis back into her cocoon. + </p> + <p> + A week ago, Felicia’s group was finished and sent to the exhibition, + leaving her in a state of nervous prostration, moral sickness, and + distressful exasperation. It needs all the tireless patience of the fairy, + all the magic of her memories constantly evoked, to make life supportable + beside this restlessness, this wicked anger, which growls beneath the + girl’s long silences and suddenly bursts out in a bitter word or in an + “Ugh!” of disgust at everything. All the critics are asses. The public? An + immense goitre with three rows of chains. And yet, the other Sunday, when + the Duc de Mora came with the superintendent of the art section to see her + exhibits in the studio, she was so happy, so proud of the praise they gave + her, so fully delighted with her own work, which she admired from the + outside, as though the work of some one else, now that her tools no longer + created between her and her work that bond which makes impartial judgment + so hard for the artist. + </p> + <p> + But it is like this every year. The studio stripped of her recent work, + her glorious name once again thrown to the unexpected caprice of the + public, Felicia’s thoughts, now without a visible object, stray in the + emptiness of her heart and in the hollowness of her life—that of the + woman who leaves the quiet groove—until she be engrossed in some new + work. She shuts herself up and will see no one, as though she mistrusted + herself. Jenkins is the only person who can help her during these attacks. + He seems even to court them, as though he expected something therefrom. + She is not pleasant with him, all the same, goodness knows. Yesterday, + even, he stayed for hours beside this wearied beauty without her speaking + to him once. If that be the welcome she is keeping for the great personage + who is doing them the honour of dining with them—Here the good + Crenmitz, who is quietly turning over all these thoughts as she gazes at + the bows on the pointed toes of her slippers, remembers that she has + promised to make a dish of Viennese cakes for the dinner of the personage + in question, and goes out of the studio, silently, on the tips of her + little feet. + </p> + <p> + The rain falls, the mud deepens; the beautiful sphinx lies still, her eyes + lost in the dull horizon. What is she thinking of? What does she see + coming there, over those filthy roads, in the falling night, that her lip + should take that curve of disgust and her brow that frown? Is she waiting + for her fate? A sad fate, that sets forth in such weather, fearless of the + darkness and the dirt. + </p> + <p> + Some one comes into the studio with a heavier tread than the mouse-like + step of Constance—the little servant, doubtless; and, without + looking round, Felicia says roughly, “Go away! I don’t want any one in.” + </p> + <p> + “I should have liked to speak to you very much, all the same,” says a + friendly voice. + </p> + <p> + She starts, sits up. Mollified and almost smiling at this unexpected + visitor, she says: + </p> + <p> + “What—you, young Minerva! How did you get in?” + </p> + <p> + “Very easily. All the doors are open.” + </p> + <p> + “I am not surprised. Constance is crazy, since this morning, over her + dinner.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I saw. The anteroom is full of flowers. Who is coming?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! a stupid dinner—an official dinner. I don’t know how I could—Sit + down here, near me. I am so glad to see you.” + </p> + <p> + Paul sat down, a little disturbed. She had never seemed to him so + beautiful. In the dusk of the studio, amid the shadowy brilliance of the + works of art, bronzes, and tapestries, her pallor was like a soft light, + her eyes shone like precious stones, and her long, close-fitting gown + revealed the unrestraint of her goddess-like body. Then, she spoke so + affectionately, she seemed so happy because he had come. Why had he stayed + away so long? It was almost a month since they had seen him. Were they no + longer friends? He excused himself as best he could—business, a + journey. Besides, if he hadn’t been there, he had often spoken of her—oh, + very often, almost every day. + </p> + <p> + “Really? And with whom?” + </p> + <p> + “With——” + </p> + <p> + He was going to say “With Aline Joyeuse,” but a feeling of restraint + stopped him, an undefinable sentiment, a sense of shame at pronouncing her + name in the studio which had heard so many others. There are things that + do not go together, one scarcely knows why. Paul preferred to reply with a + falsehood, which brought him at once to the object of his visit. + </p> + <p> + “With an excellent fellow to whom you have given very unnecessary pain. + Come, why have you not finished the poor Nabob’s bust? It was a great joy + to him, such a very proud thing for him, to have that bust in the + exhibition. He counted upon it.” + </p> + <p> + At the Nabob’s name she was slightly troubled. + </p> + <p> + “It is true,” she said, “I broke my word. But what do you expect? I am + made of caprice. See, the cover is over it; all wet, so that the clay does + not harden.” + </p> + <p> + “And the accident? You know, we didn’t believe in it.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you were wrong. I never lie. It had a fall, a most awful upset; only + the clay was fresh, and I easily repaired it. Look!” + </p> + <p> + With a sweeping gesture she lifted the cover. The Nabob suddenly appeared + before them, his jolly face beaming with the pleasure of being portrayed; + so like, so tremendously himself, that Paul gave a cry of admiration. + </p> + <p> + “Isn’t it good?” she said artlessly. “Still a few touches here and there—” + She had taken the chisel and the little sponge and pushed the stand into + what remained of the daylight. “It could be done in a few hours. But it + couldn’t go to the exhibition. To-day is the 22nd; all the exhibits have + been in a long time.” + </p> + <p> + “Bah! With influence——” + </p> + <p> + She frowned, and her bad expression came back, her mouth turning down. + </p> + <p> + “That’s true. The <i>protege</i> of the Duc de Mora. Oh! you have no need + to apologize. I know what people say, and I don’t care <i>that</i>—” + and she threw a little ball of clay at the wall, where it stuck, flat. + “Perhaps men, by dint of supposing the thing which is not—But let us + leave these infamies alone,” she said, holding up her aristocratic head. + “I really want to please you, Minerva. Your friend shall go to the <i>Salon</i> + this year.” + </p> + <p> + Just then a smell of caramel and warm pastry filled the studio, where the + shadows were falling like a fine gray dust, and the fairy appeared, a dish + of sweetmeats in her hand. She looked more fairy-like than ever, bedecked + and rejuvenated; dressed in a white gown which showed her beautiful arms + through sleeves of old lace; they were beautiful still, for the arm is the + beauty that fades last. + </p> + <p> + “Look at my <i>kuchen</i>, dearie; they are such a success this time. Oh! + I beg your pardon. I did not see you had friends. And it is M. Paul! How + are you M. Paul? Taste one of my cakes.” + </p> + <p> + And the charming old lady, whose dress seemed to lend her an extraordinary + vivacity, came towards him, balancing the plate on the tips of her tiny + fingers. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t bother him. You can give him some at dinner,” said Felicia quietly. + </p> + <p> + “At dinner?” + </p> + <p> + The dancer was so astonished that she almost upset her pretty pastries, + which looked as light and airy and delicious as herself. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, he is staying to dine with us. Oh! I beg it of you,” she added, with + a particular insistence as she saw he was going to refuse, “I beg you to + stay. Don’t say no. You will be rendering me a real service by staying + to-night. Come—I didn’t hesitate a few minutes ago.” + </p> + <p> + She had taken his hand; and in truth might have been struck by a strange + disproportion between her request and the supplicating, anxious tone in + which it was made. Paul still attempted to excuse himself. He was not + dressed. How could she propose it!—a dinner at which she would have + other guests. + </p> + <p> + “My dinner? But I will countermand it! That is the kind of person I am. We + shall be alone, just the three of us, with Constance.” + </p> + <p> + “But, Felicia, my child, you can’t really think of such a thing. Ah, well! + And the—the other who will be coming directly. + </p> + <p> + “I am going to write to him to stay at home, <i>parbleu</i>!” + </p> + <p> + “You unlucky being, it is too late.” + </p> + <p> + “Not at all. It is striking six o’clock. The dinner was for half past + seven. You must have this sent to him quickly.” + </p> + <p> + She was writing hastily at a corner of the table. + </p> + <p> + “What a strange girl, <i>mon Dieu! mon Dieu!</i>” murmured the dancer in + bewilderment, while Felicia, delighted, transfigured, was joyously sealing + her letter. + </p> + <p> + “There! my excuse is made. Headaches have not been invented for Kadour.” + </p> + <p> + Then, the letter having been despatched: + </p> + <p> + “Oh, how pleased I am! What a jolly evening we shall have! Do kiss me, + Constance! It will not prevent us from doing honour to your <i>kuchen</i>, + and we shall have the pleasure of seeing you in a pretty toilette which + makes you look younger than I do.” + </p> + <p> + This was more than was required to cause the dancer to forgive this new + caprice of her dear demon, and the crime of <i>lese-majeste</i> in which + she had just been involved against her will. To treat so great a personage + so cavalierly! There was no one like her in the world—there was no + one like her. As for Paul de Gery, he no longer tried to resist, under the + spell once more of that attraction from which he had been able to fancy + himself released by absence, but which, from the moment he crossed the + threshold of the studio, had put chains on his will, delivered him over, + bound and vanquished, to the sentiment which he was quite resolved to + combat. + </p> + <p> + Evidently the dinner—a repast for a veritable <i>gourmet</i>, + superintended by the Austrian lady in its least details—had been + prepared for a guest of great mark. From the lofty Kabyle chandelier with + its seven branches of carved wood, which cast its light over the + table-cloth covered with embroidery, to the long-necked decanters holding + the wines within their strange and exquisite form, the sumptuous + magnificence of the service, the delicacy of the meats, to which edge was + given by a certain unusualness in their selection, revealed the importance + of the expected visitor, the anxiety which there had been to please him. + The table was certainly that of an artist. Little silver, but superb + china, much unity of effect, without the least attempt at matching. The + old Rouen, the pink Sevres, the Dutch glass mounted in old filigree pewter + met on this table as on a sideboard devoted to the display of rare curios + collected by a connoisseur exclusively for the satisfaction of his taste. + A little disorder naturally, in this household equipped at hazard, as + choice things could be picked up. The wonderful cruet-stand had lost its + stoppers. The chipped salt-cellar allowed its contents to escape on the + table-cloth, and at every moment you would hear, “Why! what is become of + the mustard-pot?” “What has happened to this fork?” This embarrassed de + Gery a little on account of the young mistress of the house, who for her + part took no notice of it. + </p> + <p> + But something made Paul feel still more ill at ease—his anxiety, + namely, to know who the privileged guest might be whom he was replacing at + this table, who could be treated at once with so much magnificence and so + complete an informality. In spite of everything, he felt him present, an + offence to his personal dignity, that visitor whose invitation had been + cancelled. It was in vain that he tried to forget him; everything brought + him back to his mind, even the fine dress of the good fairy sitting + opposite him, who still maintained some of the grand airs with which she + had equipped herself in advance for the solemn occasion. This thought + troubled him, spoiled for him the pleasure of being there. + </p> + <p> + On the other hand, by contrast, as it happens in all friendships between + two people who meet very rarely, never had he seen Felicia so + affectionate, in such happy temper. It was an overflowing gaiety that was + almost childish, one of those warm expansions of feeling that are + experienced when a danger has been passed, the reaction of a bright + roaring fire after the emotion of a shipwreck. She laughed heartily, + teased Paul about his accent and what she called his <i>bourgeois</i> + ideas. “For you are a terrible <i>bourgeois</i>, you know. But it is that + that I like in you. It is an effect of contraries, doubtless; it is + because I myself was born under a bridge, in a gust of wind, that I have + always liked sedate, reasonable natures.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my child, what are you going to have M. Paul think, that you were + born under a bridge?” said the good Crenmitz, who could not accustom + herself to the exaggeration of certain metaphors, and always took + everything literally. + </p> + <p> + “Let him think what he likes, my fairy. We are not trying to catch him for + a husband. I am sure he would not want one of those monsters who are known + as female artists. He would think he was marrying the devil. You are quite + right, Minerva. Art is a despot. One has to give one’s self entirely up to + him. To toil in his service, one devotes all the ideal, all the energy, + honesty, conscience, that one possesses, so that you have none of these + things left for real life, and the completed labour throws you down, + strengthless and without a compass, like a dismantled hulk at the mercy of + every wave. A sorry acquisition, such a wife!” + </p> + <p> + “And yet,” the young man hazarded timidly, “it seems to me that art, + however exigent it be, cannot for all that entirely absorb a woman. What + would she do with her affections, of that need to love, to devote herself, + which in her, much more than in us, is the spring of all her actions?” + </p> + <p> + She mused a moment before replying. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps you are right, wise Minerva. It is true that there are days when + my life rings terribly hollow. I am conscious of abysses, profound chasms + in it. Everything that I throw in to fill it up disappears. My finest + enthusiasms of the artist are engulfed there and die each time in a sigh. + And then I think of marriage. A husband; children—a swarm of + children, who would roll about the studio; a nest to look after for them + all; the satisfaction of that physical activity which is lacking in our + existences of artists; regular occupations; high spirits, songs, innocent + gaieties, which would oblige you to play instead of thinking in the air, + in the dark—to laugh at a wound to one’s self-love, to be only a + contented mother on the day when the public should see you as a worn-out, + exhausted artist.” + </p> + <p> + And before this tender vision the girl’s beauty took on an expression + which Paul had never seen in it before, an expression which gripped his + whole being, and gave him a mad longing to carry off in his arms that + beautiful wild bird, dreaming of the home-cote, to protect and shelter it + in the sure love of an honest man. + </p> + <p> + She, without looking at him, continued: + </p> + <p> + “I am not so erratic as I appear; don’t think it. Ask my good godmother + if, when she sent me to boarding-school, I did not observe the rules. But + what a muddle in my life afterward. If you knew what sort of an early + youth I had; how precocious an experience tarnished my mind, in the head + of the little girl I was, what a confusion of the permitted and the + forbidden, of reason and folly! Art alone, extolled and discussed, stood + out boldly from among it all, and I took refuge in it. That is perhaps why + I shall never be anything but an artist, a woman apart from others, a poor + Amazon with heart imprisoned in her iron cuirass, launched into the + conflict like a man, and as a man condemned to live and die.” + </p> + <p> + Why did he not say to her, at this: + </p> + <p> + “Beauteous lady-warrior, lay down your arms, resume the flowing robe and + the graces of the woman’s sphere. I love you! Marry me, I implore you, and + win happiness both for yourself and for me.” + </p> + <p> + Ah, there it is! He was afraid lest the other—you know him, the man + who was to have come to dinner that evening and who remained between them + despite his absence—should hear him speak thus and be in a position + to jest at or to pity him for that fine outburst. + </p> + <p> + “In any case, I firmly swear one thing,” she resumed, “and it is that if + ever I have a daughter, I will try to make a true woman of her, and not a + poor lonely creature like myself. Oh! you know, my fairy, it is not for + you that I say that. You have always been kind to your demon, full of + attentions and tenderness. But just see how pretty she is, how young she + looks this evening.” + </p> + <p> + Animated by the meal, the bright lights, one of those white dresses the + reflection from which effaces wrinkles, the Crenmitz, leaning back in her + chair, held up on a level with her half-closed eyes a glass of + Chateau-Yquem, come from the cellar of the neighbouring Moulin-Rouge; and + her dainty little rosy face, her flowing garments, like those you might + see in some pastel, reflected in the golden wine, which lent to them its + own piquant fervour, recalled to mind the quondam heroine of gay little + suppers after the theatre, the Crenmitz of the brave old days—not an + audacious creature after the manner of the stars of our modern opera, but + unconscious, and wrapped in her luxury like a fine pearl in the delicate + whiteness of its shell. Felicia, who decidedly that evening was anxious to + please everybody, turned her mind gently to the chapter of recollections; + got her to recount once more her great triumphs in <i>Gisella</i>, in the + <i>Peri</i>, and the ovations of the public; the visit of the princes to + her dressing-room; the present of Queen Amelia, accompanied by such a + charming little speech. The recalling of these glories intoxicated the + poor fairy; her eyes shone; they heard her little feet moving impatiently + under the table as though seized by a dancing frenzy. And in effect, + dinner over, when they had returned to the studio, Constance began to walk + backward and forward, now and then half executing a step, a pirouette, + while continuing to talk, interrupting herself to hum some ballad air of + which she would keep the rhythm with a movement of the head; then suddenly + she bent herself double, and with a bound was at the other end of the + studio. + </p> + <p> + “Now she is off!” said Felicia in a low voice to de Gery. “Watch! It is + worth your while; you are going to see the Crenmitz dance.” + </p> + <p> + It was charming and fairy-like. Against the background of the immense room + lost in shadow and receiving almost no light save through the arched glass + roof over which the moon was climbing in a pale sky of night blue, a + veritable sky of the opera, the silhouette of the famous dancer stood out + all white, like a droll little shadow, light and imponderable, which + seemed rather to be flying in the air than springing over the floor; then, + erect upon the tips of her toes, supported in the air only by her extended + arms, her face lifted in an elusive pose, which left nothing visible but + the smile, she advanced quickly towards the light or fled away with little + rushes so rapid that you were constantly expecting to hear a slight + shivering of glass and to see her thus mount backward the slope of the + great moonbeam that lay aslant the studio. That which added a charm, a + singular poetry, to this fantastic ballet was the absence of music, the + sound alone of the rhythmical beat the force of which was accentuated by + the semi-darkness, of that quick and light tapping not heavier on the + parquet floor than the fall, petal by petal, of a dahlia going out of + bloom. + </p> + <p> + Thus it went on for some minutes, at the end of which they knew, by + hearing her shorter breathing, that she was becoming fatigued. + </p> + <p> + “Enough! enough! Sit down now,” said Felicia. Thereupon the little white + shadow halted beside an easy chair, and there remained posed, ready to + start off again, smiling and breathless, until sleep overcame her, rocking + and balancing her gently without disturbing her pretty pose, as of a + dragon-fly on the branch of a willow dipping in the water and swayed by + the current. + </p> + <p> + While they watched her, dozing on her easy chair: + </p> + <p> + “Poor little fairy!” said Felicia, “hers is what I have had best and most + serious in my life in the way of friendship, protection, and guardianship. + Can you wonder now at the zig-zags, the erratic nature of my mind? + Fortunate at that, to have gone no further.” + </p> + <p> + And suddenly, with a joyous effusion of feeling: + </p> + <p> + “Ah, Minerva, Minerva, I am very glad that you came this evening! But you + must not leave me to myself for so long again, mind. I need to have near + me an honest mind like yours, to see a true face among the masks that + surround me. A fearful <i>bourgeois</i>, all the same,” she added, + laughing, “and a provincial into the bargain. But no matter! It is you, + for all that, whom it gives me the most pleasure to see. And I believe + that my liking for you is due especially to one thing: you remind me of + some one who was the great affection of my youth, a sedate and sensible + little being she also, chained to the matter-of-fact side of existence, + but tempering it with that ideal element which we artists set aside + exclusively for the profit of our work. Certain things which you say seem + to me as though they had come from her. You have the same mouth, like an + antique model’s. Is it that that gives this resemblance to your words? I + have no idea, but most certainly you are like each other. You shall see.” + </p> + <p> + On the table laden with sketches and albums, at which she was sitting + facing him, she drew, as she talked, with brow inclined and her rather + wild curly hair shading her graceful little head. She was no longer the + beautiful couchant monster, with the anxious and gloomy countenance, + condemning her own destiny, but a woman, a true woman, in love, and eager + to beguile. This time Paul forgot all his mistrusts in presence of so much + sincerity and such passing grace. He was about to speak, to persuade. The + minute was decisive. But the door opened and the little page appeared. M. + le Duc had sent to inquire whether mademoiselle was still suffering from + her headache of earlier in the evening. + </p> + <p> + “Still just as much,” she said with irritation. + </p> + <p> + When the servant had gone out, a moment of silence fell between them, a + glacial coldness. Paul had risen. She continued her sketch, with her head + still bowed. + </p> + <p> + He took a few paces in the studio; then, having come back to the table, he + asked quietly, astonished to feel himself so calm: + </p> + <p> + “It was the Duc de Mora who was to have dined here?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. I was bored—a day of spleen. Days of that kind are bad for + me.” + </p> + <p> + “Was the duchess to have come?” + </p> + <p> + “The duchess? No. I don’t know her.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, in your place I would never receive in my house, at my table, a + married man whose wife I did not meet. You complain of being deserted; why + desert yourself? When one is without reproach, one should avoid the very + suspicion of it. Do I vex you?” + </p> + <p> + “No, no, scold me, Minerva. I have no objection to your ethics. They are + honest and frank, yours; they do not blink uncertain, like those of + Jenkins. I told you, I need some one to guide me.” + </p> + <p> + And tossing over to him the sketch which she had just finished: + </p> + <p> + “See, that is the friend of whom I was speaking to you. A profound and + sure affection, which I was foolish enough to allow to be lost to me, like + the bungler I am. She it was to whom I appealed in moments of difficulty, + when a decision required to be taken, some sacrifice made. I used to say + to myself, ‘What will she think of this?’ just as we artists may stop in + the midst of a piece of work to refer it mentally to some great man, one + of our masters. I must have you take her place for me. Will you?” + </p> + <p> + Paul did not answer. He was looking at the portrait of Aline. It was she, + herself to the letter; her pure profile, her mocking and kindly mouth, and + the long curl like a caress on the delicate neck. Felicia had ceased to + exist for him. + </p> + <p> + Poor Felicia, endowed with superior talents, she was indeed like those + magicians who knot and unknot the destinies of men, without possessing any + power over their own happiness. + </p> + <p> + “Will you give me this sketch?” he said in a low, quivering voice. + </p> + <p> + “Most willingly. She is nice—isn’t she? Ah! her indeed, if you + should meet, love her, marry her. She is worth more than all the rest of + womankind together. And yet, failing her—failing her——” + </p> + <p> + And the beautiful sphinx, tamed, raised to him, moist and laughing, her + great eyes, in which an enigma had ceased to be indecipherable. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0017" id="link2H_4_0017"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE EXHIBITION + </h2> + <p> + “SUPERB!” + </p> + <p> + “A tremendous success! Barye has never done anything so good before.” + </p> + <p> + “And the bust of the Nabob! What a marvel. How happy Constance Crenmitz + is! Look at her trotting about!” + </p> + <p> + “What! That little old lady in the ermine cape is the Crenmitz? I thought + she had been dead twenty years ago.” + </p> + <p> + Oh, no! Very much alive, on the contrary. Delighted, made young again by + the triumph of her goddaughter, who had made what is decidedly the success + of the exhibition, she passes about among the crowd of artists and + fashionable people, who, wedged together and stifling themselves in order + to get a look at the two points where the works sent by Felicia are + exhibited, form as it were two solid masses of black backs and jumbled + dresses. Constance, ordinarily so timid, edges her way into the front + rank, listens to the discussions, catches, as they fly, disjointed + phrases, formulas which she takes care to remember, approves with a nod, + smiles, raises her shoulders when she hears a stupid remark made, inclined + to murder the first person who should not admire. + </p> + <p> + Whether it be the good Crenmitz or another, you will always see it at + every opening of the <i>Salon</i>, that furtive silhouette, prowling near + wherever a conversation is going on, with an anxious manner and alert ear; + sometimes a simple old fellow, some father, whose glance thanks you for + any kind word said in passing, or assumes a grieved expression by reason + of some epigram, flung at the work of art, that may wound some heart + behind you. A figure not to be forgotten, certainly, if ever it should + occur to any painter with a passion for modernity to fix on canvas that + very typical manifestation of Parisian life, the opening of an exhibition + in that vast conservatory of sculpture, with its paths of yellow sand, and + its immense glass roof beneath which, half-way up, stand out the galleries + of the first floor, lined by heads bent over to look down, and decorated + with improvised flowing draperies. + </p> + <p> + In a rather cold light, made pallid by those green curtains that hang all + around, in which one would fancy that the light-rays become rarefied, in + order to give to the vision of the people walking about the room a certain + contemplative justice, the slow crowd goes and comes, pauses, disperses + itself over the seats in serried groups, and yet mixing up different + sections of society more thoroughly than any other assembly, just as the + weather, uncertain and changeable at this time of the year, produces a + confusion in the world of clothes, causes to brush each other as they + pass, the black laces, the imperious train of the great lady come to see + how her portrait looks, and the Siberian furs of the actress just back + from Russia and anxious that everybody should know it. + </p> + <p> + Here, no boxes, no stalls, no reserved seats, and it is this that gives to + this <i>premiere</i> in full daylight so great a charm of curiosity. + Genuine ladies of fashion are able to form an opinion of those painted + beauties who receive so much commendation in an artificial light; the + little hat, following a new mode of the Marquise de Bois l’Hery, confronts + the more than modest toilette of some artist’s wife or daughter; while the + model who posed for that beautiful Andromeda at the entrance, goes by + victoriously, clad in too short a skirt, in wretched garments that hide + her beauty beneath all the false lines of fashion. People observe, admire, + criticise each other, exchange glances contemptuous, disdainful, or + curious, interrupted suddenly at the passage of a celebrity, of that + illustrious critic whom we seem still to see, tranquil and majestic, his + powerful head framed in its long hair, making the round of the exhibits in + sculpture followed by a dozen young disciples eager to hear the verdict of + his kindly authority. If the sound of voices is lost beneath that immense + dome, sonorous only under the two vaults of the entrance and the exit, + faces take on there an astonishing intensity, a relief of movement and + animation concentrated especially in the huge, dark bay where refreshments + are served, crowded to overflowing and full of gesticulation, the brightly + coloured hats of the women and the white aprons of the waiters gleaming + against the background of dark clothes, and in the great space in the + middle where the oval swarming with visitors makes a singular contrast + with the immobility of the exhibited statues, producing the insensible + palpitation with which their marble whiteness and their movements as of + apotheosis are surrounded. + </p> + <p> + There are wings poised in giant flight, a sphere supported by four + allegorical figures whose attitude of turning suggests some vague + waltz-measure—a total effect of equilibrium well conveying the + illusion of the sweeping onward of the earth; and there are arms raised to + give the signal, bodies heroically risen, containing an allegory, a symbol + which stamps them with death and immortality, secures to them a place in + history, in legend, in that ideal world of museums which is visited by the + curiosity or the admiration of the nations. + </p> + <p> + Although Felicia’s group in bronze had not the proportions of these large + pieces, its exceptional merit had caused it to be selected to adorn one of + the open spaces in the middle, from which at this moment the public was + holding itself at a respectful distance, watching, over the hedge of + custodians and policemen, the Bey of Tunis and his suite, an array of long + bernouses falling in sculptural folds, which had the effect of placing + living statues opposite the other ones. + </p> + <p> + The Bey, who had been in Paris since a few days before, and was the lion + of all the <i>premieres</i>, had desired to see the opening of the + exhibition. He was “an enlightened prince, a friend of art,” who possessed + at the Bardo a gallery of remarkable Turkish paintings and + chromo-lithographic reproductions of all the battles of the First Empire. + The moment he entered, the sight of the big Arab greyhound had struck him + as he passed. It was the <i>sleughi</i> all over, the true <i>sleughi</i>, + delicate and nervous, of his own country, the companion of all his hunting + expeditions. He laughed in his black beard, felt the loins of the animal, + stroked its muscles, seemed to want to urge it on still faster, while with + nostrils open, teeth showing, all its limbs stretched out and unwearying + in their vigorous elasticity, the aristocratic beast, the beast of prey, + ardent in love and the chase, intoxicated with their double intoxication, + its eyes fixed, was already enjoying a foretaste of its capture with a + little end of its tongue which hung and seemed to sharpen the teeth with a + ferocious laugh. When you only looked at the hound you said to yourself, + “He has got him!” But the sight of the fox reassured you immediately. + Beneath the velvet of his lustrous coat, cat-like almost lying along the + ground, covering it rapidly without effort, you felt him to be a veritable + fairy; and his delicate head with its pointed ears, which as he ran he + turned towards the hound, had an expression of ironical security which + clearly marked the gift received from the gods. + </p> + <p> + While an Inspector of Fine Arts, who had rushed up in all haste, with his + official dress in disorder, and a head bald right down to his back, + explained to Mohammed the apologue of “The Dog and the Fox,” related in + the descriptive catalogue with these words inscribed beneath, “Now it + happened that they met,” and the indication, “The property of the Duc de + Mora,” the fat Hemerlingue, perspiring and puffing by his Highness’s side, + had great difficulty to convince him that this masterly piece of sculpture + was the work of the beautiful young lady whom they had encountered the + previous evening riding in the Bois. How could a woman, with her feeble + hands, thus mould the hard bronze, and give to it the very appearance of + the living body? Of all the marvels of Paris, this was the one which + caused the Bey the most astonishment. He inquired consequently from the + functionary if there was nothing else to see by the same artist. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, indeed, monseigneur, another masterpiece. If your Highness will + deign to step this way I will conduct you to it.” + </p> + <p> + The Bey commenced to move on again with his suite. They were all admirable + types, with chiselled features and pure lines, warm pallors of complexion + of which even the reflections were absorbed by the whiteness of their <i>haiks</i>. + Magnificently draped, they contrasted with the busts ranged on either side + of the aisle they were following, which, perched on their high columns, + looking slender in the open air, exiled from their own home, from the + surroundings in which doubtless they would have recalled severe labours, a + tender affection, a busy and courageous existence, had the sad aspect of + people gone astray in their path, and very regretful to find themselves in + their present situation. Excepting two or three female heads, with opulent + shoulders framed in petrified lace, and hair rendered in marble with that + softness of touch which gives it the lightness of a powdered wig, + excepting, too, a few profiles of children with their simple lines, in + which the polish of the stone seems to resemble the moistness of the + living flesh, all the rest were only wrinkles, crow’s-feet, shrivelled + features and grimaces, our excesses in work and in movement, our + nervousness and our feverishness, opposing themselves to that art of + repose and of beautiful serenity. + </p> + <p> + The ugliness of the Nabob had at least energy in its favour, the vulgar + side of him as an adventurer, and that expression of benevolence, so well + rendered by the artist, who had taken care to underlay her plaster with a + layer of ochre, which gave it almost the weather-beaten and sunburned tone + of the model. The Arabs, when they saw it, uttered a stifled exclamation, + “Bou-Said!” (the father of good fortune). This was the surname of the + Nabob in Tunis, the label, as it were, of his luck. The Bey, for his part, + thinking that some one had wished to play a trick on him in thus leading + him to inspect the bust of the hated trader, regarded his guide with + mistrust. + </p> + <p> + “Jansoulet?” said he in his guttural voice. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Highness: Bernard Jansoulet, the new deputy for Corsica.” + </p> + <p> + This time the Bey turned to Hemerlingue, with a frown on his brow. + </p> + <p> + “Deputy?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, monseigneur, since this morning; but nothing is yet settled.” + </p> + <p> + And the banker, raising his voice, added with a stutter: + </p> + <p> + “No French Chamber will ever admit that adventurer.” + </p> + <p> + No matter. The stroke had fallen on the blind faith of the Bey in his + baron financier. The latter had so confidently affirmed to him that the + other would never be elected and that their action with regard to him need + not be fettered or in any way hampered by the least fear. And now, instead + of a man ruined and overthrown, there rose before him a representative of + the nation, a deputy whose portrait in stone the Parisians were coming to + admire; for in the eyes of the Oriental, an idea of distinction being + mingled in spite of everything with this public exhibition, that bust had + the prestige of a statue dominating a square. Still more yellow than + usual, Hemerlingue internally accused himself of clumsiness and + imprudence. But how could he ever have dreamed of such a thing? He had + been assured that the bust was not finished. And in fact it had been there + only since morning, and seemed quite at home, quivering with satisfied + pride, defying its enemies with the good-tempered smile of its curling + lip. A veritable silent revenge for the disaster of Saint-Romans. + </p> + <p> + For some minutes the Bey, cold and impassible as the sculptured image, + gazed at it without saying anything, his forehead divided by a straight + crease wherein his courtiers alone could read his anger; then, after two + quick words in Arabic, to order the carriages and to reassemble his + scattered suite, he directed his steps gravely towards the door of exit, + without consenting to give even a glance to anything else. Who shall say + what passes in these august brains surfeited with power? Even our + sovereigns of the West have incomprehensible fantasies; but they are + nothing compared with Oriental caprices. Monsieur the Inspector of Fine + Arts, who had made sure of taking his Highness all round the exhibition + and of thus winning the pretty red-and-green ribbon of the + Nicham-Iftikahr, never knew the secret of this sudden flight. + </p> + <p> + At the moment when the white <i>haiks</i> were disappearing under the + porch, just in time to see the last wave of their folds, the Nabob made + his entry by the middle door. In the morning he had received the news, + “Elected by an overwhelming majority”; and after a sumptuous luncheon, at + which the new deputy for Corsica had been extensively toasted, he came, + with some of his guests, to show himself, to see himself also, to enjoy + all his new glory. + </p> + <p> + The first person whom he saw as he arrived was Felicia Ruys, standing, + leaning on the pedestal of a statue, surrounded by compliments and + tributes of admiration, to which he made haste to add his own. She was + simply dressed, clad in a black costume embroidered and trimmed with jet, + tempering the severity of her attire with a glittering of reflected + lights, and with a delightful little hat all made of downy plumes, the + play of colour in which her hair, curled delicately on her forehead and + drawn back to the neck in great waves, seemed to continue and to soften. + </p> + <p> + A crowd of artists and fashionable people were assiduous in their + attentions to so great a genius allied to so much beauty; and Jenkins, + bareheaded, and puffing with warm effusiveness, was going from one to the + other, stimulating their enthusiasm but widening the circle around this + young fame of which he constituted himself at once the guardian and the + trumpeter. His wife during this time was talking to the young girl. Poor + Mme. Jenkins! She had heard that savage voice, which she alone knew, say + to her, “You must go and greet Felicia.” And she had gone to do so, + controlling her emotion; for she knew now what it was that hid itself at + the bottom of that paternal affection, although she avoided all discussion + of it with the doctor, as if she had been fearful of the issue. + </p> + <p> + After Mme. Jenkins, it is the turn of the Nabob to rush up, and taking the + artist’s two long, delicately-gloved hands between his fat paws, he + expresses his gratitude with a cordiality which brings the tears to his + own eyes. + </p> + <p> + “It is a great honour that you have done me, mademoiselle, to associate my + name with yours, my humble person with your triumph, and to prove to all + this vermin gnawing at my heels that you do not believe the calumnies + which have been spread with regard to me. Yes, truly, I shall never forget + it. In vain I may cover this magnificent bust with gold and diamonds, I + shall still be your debtor.” + </p> + <p> + Fortunately for the good Nabob, with more feeling than eloquence, he is + obliged to make way for all the others attracted by a dazzling talent, the + personality in view; extravagant enthusiasms which, for want of words to + express themselves, disappear as they come; the conventional admirations + of society, moved by good-will, by a lively desire to please, but of which + each word is a douche of cold water; and then the hearty hand-shakes of + rivals, of comrades, some very frank, others that communicate to you the + weakness of their grasp; the pretentious great booby, at whose idiotic + eulogy you must appear to be transported with gladness, and who, lest he + should spoil you too much, accompanies it with “a few little reserves,” + and the other, who, while overwhelming you with compliments, demonstrates + to you that you have not learned the first word of your profession; and + the excellent busy fellow, who stops just long enough to whisper in your + ear “that so-and-so, the famous critic, does not look very pleased.” + Felicia listened to it all with the greatest calm, raised by her success + above the littleness of envy, and quite proud when a glorious veteran, + some old comrade of her father, threw to her a “You’ve done very well, + little one!” which took her back to the past, to the little corner + reserved for her in the old days in her father’s studio, when she was + beginning to carve out a little glory for herself under the protection of + the renown of the great Ruys. But, taken altogether, the congratulations + left her rather cold, because there lacked one which she desired more than + any other, and which she was surprised not to have yet received. Decidedly + he was more often in her thoughts than any other man had ever been. Was it + love at last, the great love which is so rare in an artist’s soul, + incapable as that is of giving itself entirely up to the sway of + sentiment, or was it perhaps simply a dream of honest <i>bourgeoise</i> + life, well sheltered against <i>ennui</i>, that spiritless <i>ennui</i>, + the precursor of storms, which she had so much reason to dread? In any + case, she was herself taken in by it, and had been living for some days + past in a state of delicious trouble, for love is so strong, so beautiful + a thing, that its semblances, its mirages, allure and can move us as + deeply as itself. + </p> + <p> + Has it ever happened to you in the street, when you have been preoccupied + with thoughts of some one dear to you, to be warned of his approach by + meeting persons with a vague resemblance to him, preparatory images, + sketches of the type to appear directly afterward, which stand out for you + from the crowd like successive appeals to your overexcited attention? Such + presentiments are magnetic and nervous impressions at which one should not + be too disposed to smile, since they constitute a faculty of suffering. + Already, in the moving and constantly renewed stream of visitors, Felicia + had several times thought to recognise the curly head of Paul de Gery, + when suddenly she uttered a cry of joy. It was not he, however, this time + again, but some one who resembled him closely, whose regular and peaceful + physiognomy was always now connected in her mind with that of her friend + Paul through the effect of a likeness more moral than physical, and the + gentle authority which both exercised over her thoughts. + </p> + <p> + “Aline!” + </p> + <p> + “Felicia!” + </p> + <p> + If nothing is more open to suspicion than the friendship of two + fashionable ladies sharing the prerogatives of drawing-room royalty and + lavishing on each other epithets, and the trivial graces of feminine + fondness, the friendships of childhood keep in the grown woman a frankness + of manner which distinguishes them, and makes them recognisable among all + others, bonds woven naively and firm as the needlework of little girls in + which an experienced hand had been prodigal of thread and big knots; + plants reared in fresh soil, in flower, but with strong roots, full of + vitality and new shoots. And what a joy, hand in hand—you glad + dances of boarding-school days, where are you?—to retrace some steps + of one’s way with somebody who has an equal acquaintance with it and its + least incidents, and the same laugh of tender retrospection. A little + apart, the two girls, for whom it has been sufficient to find themselves + once more face to face to forget five years of separation, carry on a + rapid exchange of recollections, while the little <i>pere</i> Joyeuse, his + ruddy face brightened by a new cravat, straightens himself in pride to see + his daughter thus warmly welcomed by such an illustrious person. Proud + certainly he had reason to be, for the little Parisian, even in the + neighbourhood of her brilliant friend, holds her own in grace, youth, fair + candour, beneath her twenty smooth and golden years, which the gladness of + this meeting brings to fresh bloom. + </p> + <p> + “How happy you must be! For my part, I have seen nothing yet; but I hear + everybody saying it is so beautiful.” + </p> + <p> + “Happy above all to see you again, little Aline. It is so long—” + </p> + <p> + “I should think so, you naughty girl! Whose the fault?” + </p> + <p> + And from the saddest corner of her memory, Felicia recalls the date of the + breaking off of their relations, coinciding for her with another date on + which her youth came to its end in an unforgettable scene. + </p> + <p> + “And what have you been doing, darling, all this time?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I, always the same thing—or, nothing to speak of.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes, we know what you call doing nothing, you brave little thing! + Giving your life to other people, isn’t it?” + </p> + <p> + But Aline was no longer listening. She was smiling affectionately to some + one straight in front of her; and Felicia, turning round to see who it + was, perceived Paul de Gery replying to the shy and tender greeting of + Mlle. Joyeuse. + </p> + <p> + “You know each other, then?” + </p> + <p> + “Do I know M. Paul! I should think so, indeed. We talk of you very often. + He has never told you, then?” + </p> + <p> + “Never. He must be a terribly sly fellow.” + </p> + <p> + She stopped short, her mind enlightened by a flash; and quickly without + heed to de Gery, who was coming up to congratulate her on her triumph, she + leaned over towards Aline and spoke to her in a low voice. That young lady + blushed, protested with smiles and words under her breath: “How can you + think of such a thing? At my age—a ‘grandmamma’!” and finally seized + her father’s arm in order to escape some friendly teasing. + </p> + <p> + When Felicia saw the two young people going off together, when she had + realized the fact, which they had not yet grasped themselves, that they + were in love with each other, she felt as it were a crumbling all around + her. Then upon her dream, now fallen to the ground in a thousand + fragments, she set herself to stamp furiously. After all, he was quite + right to prefer this little Aline to herself. Would an honest man ever + dare to marry Mlle. Ruys? She, a home, a family—what nonsense! A + harlot’s daughter you are, my dear; you must be a harlot too if you want + to become anything at all. + </p> + <p> + The day wore on. The crowd, more active now that there were empty spaces + here and there, commenced to stream towards the door of exit after great + eddyings round the successes of the year, satisfied, rather tired, but + excited still by that air charged with the electricity of art. A great + flood of sunlight, such as sometimes occurs at four o’clock in the + afternoon, fell on the stained-glass rose-window, threw on the sand tracks + of rainbow-coloured lights, softly bathing the bronze or the marble of the + statues, imparting an iridescent hue to the nudity of a beautiful figure, + giving to the vast museum something of the luminous life of a garden. + Felicia, absorbed in her deep and sad reverie, did not notice the man who + advanced towards her, superb, elegant, fascinating, through the + respectfully opened ranks of the public, while the name of “Mora” was + everywhere whispered. + </p> + <p> + “Well, mademoiselle, you have made a splendid success. I only regret one + thing about it, and that is the cruel symbol which you have hidden in your + masterpiece.” + </p> + <p> + As she saw the duke before her, she shuddered. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, yes, the symbol,” she said, lifting her face towards his with a smile + of discouragement; and leaning against the pedestal of the large, + voluptuous statue near which they happened to be standing, with the closed + eyes of a woman who gives or abandons herself, she murmured low, very low: + </p> + <p> + “Rabelais lied, as all men lie. The truth is that the fox is utterly + wearied, that he is at the end of his breath and his courage, ready to + fall into the ditch, and that if the greyhound makes another effort——” + </p> + <p> + Mora started, became a shade paler, all the blood he had in his body + rushing back to his heart. Two sombre flames met with their eyes, two + rapid words were exchanged by lips that hardly moved; then the duke bowed + profoundly, and walked away with a step gay and light, as though the gods + were bearing him. + </p> + <p> + At that moment there was in the palace only one man as happy as he, and + that was the Nabob. Escorted by his friends, he occupied, quite filled up, + the principal bay with his own party alone, speaking loudly, + gesticulating, proud to such a degree that he looked almost handsome, as + though by dint of naive and long contemplation of his bust he had been + touched by something of the splendid idealization with which the artist + had haloed the vulgarity of his type. The head, raised to the + three-quarters position, standing freely out from the wide, loose collar, + drew contradictory remarks on the resemblance from the passers-by; and the + name of Jansoulet, so many times repeated by the electoral ballot-boxes, + was repeated over again now by the prettiest mouths, by the most + authoritative voices, in Paris. Any other than the Nabob would have been + embarrassed to hear uttered, as he passed, these expressions of curiosity + which were not always friendly. But the platform, the springing-board, + well suited that nature which became bolder under the fire of glances, + like those women who are beautiful or witty only in society, and whom the + least admiration transfigures and completes. + </p> + <p> + When he felt this delirious joy growing calmer, when he thought to have + drunk the whole of its proud intoxication, he had only to say to himself, + “Deputy! I am a Deputy!” And the triumphal cup foamed once more to the + brim. It meant the embargo raised from all his possessions, the awakening + from a nightmare that had lasted two months, the puff of cool wind + sweeping away all his anxieties, all his inquietudes, even to the affront + of Saint-Romans, very heavy though that was in his memory. + </p> + <p> + Deputy! + </p> + <p> + He laughed to himself as he thought of the baron’s face when he learned + the news, of the stupefaction of the Bey when he had been led up to his + bust; and suddenly, upon the reflection that he was no longer merely an + adventurer stuffed with gold, exciting the stupid admiration of the crowd, + as might an enormous rough nugget in the window of a money-changer, but + that people saw in him, as he passed, one of the men elected by the will + of the nation, his simple and mobile face grew thoughtful with a + deliberate gravity, there suggested themselves to him projects of a + career, of reform, and the wish to profit by the lessons that had been + latterly taught by destiny. Already, remembering the promise which he had + given to de Gery, for the household troop that wriggled ignobly at his + heels, he made exhibition of certain disdainful coldnesses, a deliberate + pose of authoritative contradiction. He called the Marquis de Bois l’Hery + “my good fellow,” imposed silence very sharply on the governor, whose + enthusiasm was becoming scandalous, and made a solemn vow to himself to + get rid as soon as possible of all that mendicant and promising Bohemian + set, when he should have occasion to begin the process. + </p> + <p> + Penetrating the crowd which surrounded him, Moessard—the handsome + Moessard, in a sky-blue cravat, pale and bloated like a white embodiment + of disease, and pinched at the waist in a fine frock-coat—seeing + that the Nabob, after having gone twenty times round the hall of + sculpture, was making for the door, dashed forward, and passing his arm + through his, said: + </p> + <p> + “You are taking me with you, you know.” + </p> + <p> + Especially of late, since the time of the election, he had assumed, in the + establishment of the Place Vendome, an authority almost equal to that of + Monpavon, but more impudent; for, in point of impudence, the Queen’s lover + was without his equal on the pavement that stretches from the Rue Drouot + to the Madeleine. This time he had gone too far. The muscular arm which he + pressed was shaken violently, and the Nabob answered very dryly: + </p> + <p> + “I am sorry, <i>mon cher</i>, but I have not a place to offer you.” + </p> + <p> + No place in a carriage that was as big as a house, and which five of them + had come in! + </p> + <p> + Moessard gazed at him in stupefaction. + </p> + <p> + “I had, however, a few words to say to you which are very urgent. With + regard to the subject of my note—you received it, did you not?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly; and M. de Gery should have sent you a reply this very morning. + What you ask is impossible. Twenty thousand francs! <i>Tonnerre de Dieu!</i> + You go at a fine rate!” + </p> + <p> + “Still, it seems to me that my services—” stammered the beauty-man. + </p> + <p> + “Have been amply paid for. That is how it seems to me also. Two hundred + thousand francs in five months! We will draw the line there, if you + please. Your teeth are long, young man; you will have to file them down a + little.” + </p> + <p> + They exchanged these words as they walked, pushed forward by the surging + wave of the people going out. Moessard stopped: + </p> + <p> + “That is your last word?” + </p> + <p> + The Nabob hesitated for a moment, seized by a presentiment as he looked at + that pale, evil mouth; then he remembered the promise which he had given + to his friend: + </p> + <p> + “That is my last word.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well! We shall see,” said the handsome Moessard, whose switch-cane + cut the air with the hiss of a viper; and, turning on his heel, he made + off with great strides, like a man who is expected somewhere on very + urgent business. + </p> + <p> + Jansoulet continued his triumphal progress. That day much more would have + been required to upset the equilibrium of his happiness; on the contrary, + he felt himself relieved by the so-quickly achieved fulfilment of his + purpose. + </p> + <p> + The immense vestibule was thronged by a dense crowd of people whom the + approach of the hour of closing was bringing out, but whom one of those + sudden showers, which seem inseparable from the opening of the <i>Salon</i>, + kept waiting beneath the porch, with its floor beaten down and sandy like + the entrance to the circus where the young dandies strut about. The scene + that met the eye was curious, and very Parisian. + </p> + <p> + Outside, great rays of sunshine traversing the rain, attaching to its + limpid beads those sharp and brilliant blades which justify the proverbial + saying, “It rains halberds”; the young greenery of the Champs-Elysees, the + clumps of rhododendrons, rustling and wet, the carriages ranged in the + avenue, the mackintosh capes of the coachmen, all the splendid + harness-trappings of the horses receiving from the rain and the sunbeams + an added richness and effect, and blue everywhere looming out, the blue of + a sky which is about to smile in the interval between two downpours. + </p> + <p> + Within, laughter, gossip, greetings, impatience, skirts held up, satins + bulging out above the delicate folds of frills, of lace, of flounces + gathered up in the hands of their wearers in heavy, terribly frayed + bundles. Then, to unite the two sides of the picture, these prisoners + framed in by the vaulted ceiling of the porch and in the gloom of its + shadow, with the immense background in brilliant light, footmen running + beneath umbrellas, crying out names of coachmen or of masters, broughams + coming up at walking pace, and flustered couples getting into them. + </p> + <p> + “M. Jansoulet’s carriage!” + </p> + <p> + Everybody turned round, but, as one knows, that did not embarrass him. And + while the good Nabob, waiting for his suite, stood posing a little amid + these fashionable and famous people, this mixed <i>tout Paris</i> which + was there, with its every face bearing a well-known name, a nervous and + well-gloved hand was stretched out to him, and the Duc de Mora, on his way + to his brougham, threw to him, as he passed, these words, with that + effusion which happiness gives to the most reserved of men: + </p> + <p> + “My congratulations, my dear deputy.” + </p> + <p> + It was said in a loud voice, and every one could hear it: “My dear + deputy.” + </p> + <p> + There is in the life of all men one golden hour, one luminous peak, + whereon all that they can hope of prosperity, joy, triumph, waits for them + and is given into their hands. The summit is more or less lofty, more or + less rugged and difficult to climb, but it exists equally for all, for + powerful and humble alike. Only, like that longest day of the year on + which the sun has shone with its utmost brilliance, and of which the + morrow seems a first step towards winter, this <i>summum</i> of human + existences is but a moment given to be enjoyed, after which one can but + redescend. This late afternoon of the first of May, streaked with rain and + sunshine, thou must forget it not, poor man—must fix forever its + changing brilliance in thy memory. It was the hour of thy full summer, + with its flowers in bloom, its fruits bending their golden boughs, its + ripe harvests of which so recklessly thou wast plucking the corn. The star + will now pale, gradually growing more remote and falling, incapable ere + long of piercing the mournful night wherein thy destiny shall be + accomplished. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0018" id="link2H_4_0018"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + MEMOIRS OF AN OFFICE PORTER IN THE ANTCHAMBER + </h2> + <p> + Great festivities last Saturday in the Place Vendome. In honour of his + election, M. Bernard Jansoulet, the new deputy for Corsica, gave a + magnificent evening party, with municipal guards at the door, illumination + of the entire mansion, and two thousand invitations sent out to + fashionable Paris. + </p> + <p> + I owed to the distinction of my manners, to the sonority of my vocal + organ, which the chairman of the board had had occasion to notice at the + meetings at the Territorial Bank, the opportunity of taking part in this + sumptuous entertainment, at which, for three hours, standing in the + vestibule, amid the flowers and hangings, clad in scarlet and gold, with + that majesty peculiar to persons who are rather generously built, and with + my calves exposed for the first time in my life, I launched, like a + cannon-ball, through the five communicating drawing-rooms, the name of + each guest, which a glittering beadle saluted every time with the “<i>bing</i>” + of his halberd on the floor. + </p> + <p> + How many the curious observations which that evening again I was able to + make; how many the pleasant sallies, the high-toned jests exchanged among + the servants upon all that world as it passed by! Not with the + vine-dressers of Montbars in any case should I have heard such drolleries. + I should remark that the worthy M. Barreau, to begin with, had caused to + be served to us all in his pantry, filled to the ceiling with iced drinks + and provisions, a solid lunch well washed down, which put each of us in a + good humour that was maintained during the evening by the glasses of punch + and champagne pilfered from the trays when dessert was served. + </p> + <p> + The masters, indeed, seemed in less joyous mood than we. So early as nine + o’clock, when I arrived at my post, I was struck by the uneasy nervousness + apparent on the face of the Nabob, whom I saw walking with M. de Gery + through the lighted and empty drawing-rooms, talking quickly and making + large gestures. + </p> + <p> + “I will kill him!” he said; “I will kill him!” + </p> + <p> + The other endeavoured to soothe him; then madame came in, and the subject + of their conversation was changed. + </p> + <p> + A mighty fine woman, this Levantine, twice as stout as I am, dazzling to + look at with her tiara of diamonds, the jewels with which her huge white + shoulders were laden, her back as round as her bosom, her waist compressed + within a cuirass of green gold, which was continued in long braids down + the whole length of her stiff skirt. I have never seen anything so + imposing, so rich. She suggested one of those beautiful white elephants + that carry towers on their backs, of which we read in books of travel. + When she walked, supporting herself with difficulty by means of clinging + to the furniture, her whole body quivered, her ornaments clattered like a + lot of old iron. Added to this, a small, very piercing voice, and a fine + red face which a little negro boy kept cooling for her all the time with a + white feather fan as big as a peacock’s tail. + </p> + <p> + It was the first time that this indolent and retiring person had showed + herself to Parisian society, and M. Jansoulet seemed very happy and proud + that she had been willing to preside over his party; which undertaking, + for that matter, did not cost the lady much trouble, for, leaving her + husband to receive the guests in the first drawing-room, she went and lay + down on the divan of the small Japanese room, wedged between two piles of + cushions, motionless, so that you could see her from a distance right in + the background, looking like an idol, beneath the great fan which her + negro waved regularly like a piece of clockwork. These foreign women + possess an assurance! + </p> + <p> + All the same, the Nabob’s irritation had struck me, and seeing the <i>valet + de chambre</i> go by, descending the staircase four steps at a time, I + caught him on the wing and whispered in his ear: + </p> + <p> + “What’s the matter, then, with your governor, M. Noel?” + </p> + <p> + “It is the article in the <i>Messenger</i>,” was his reply, and I had to + give up the idea of learning anything further for the moment, the loud + ringing of a bell announcing that the first carriage had arrived, followed + soon by a crowd of others. + </p> + <p> + Wholly absorbed in my occupation, careful to utter clearly the names which + were given to me, and to make them echo from salon to salon, I had no + longer a thought for anything besides. It is no easy business to announce + in a proper manner persons who are always under the impression that their + name must be known, whisper it under their breath as they pass, and then + are surprised to hear you murder it with the finest accent, and are almost + angry with you on account of those entrances which, missing fire and + greeted with little smiles, follow upon an ill-made announcement. At M. + Jansoulet’s, what made the work still more difficult for me was the number + of foreigners—Turks, Egyptians, Persians, Tunisians. I say nothing + of the Corsicans, who were very numerous that day, because during my four + years at the Territorial I have become accustomed to the pronunciation of + those high-sounding, interminable names, always followed by that of the + locality: “Paganetti de Porto Vecchio, Bastelica di Bonifacio, Paianatchi + de Barbicaglia.” + </p> + <p> + It was always a pleasure to me to modulate these Italian syllables, to + give them all their sonority, and I saw clearly, from the bewildered airs + of these worthy islanders, how charmed and surprised they were to be + introduced in such a manner into the high society of the Continent. But + with the Turks, these pashas, beys, and effendis, I had much more trouble, + and I must have happened often to fall on a wrong pronunciation; for M. + Jansoulet, on two separate occasions, sent word to me to pay more + attention to the names that were given to me, and especially to announce + in a more natural manner. This remark, uttered aloud before the whole + vestibule with a certain roughness, annoyed me greatly, and prevented me—shall + I confess it?—from pitying this rich <i>parvenu</i> when I learned, + in the course of the evening, what cruel thorns lay concealed in his bed + of roses. + </p> + <p> + From half past ten until midnight the bell was constantly ringing, + carriages rolling up under the portico, guests succeeding one another, + deputies, senators, councillors of state, municipal councillors, who + looked much rather as though they were attending a meeting of shareholders + than an evening-party of society people. What could account for this? I + had not succeeded in finding an explanation, but a remark of the beadle + Nicklauss opened my eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Do you notice, M. Passajon,” said that worthy henchman, as he stood + opposite me, halberd in hand, “do you notice how few ladies we have?” + </p> + <p> + That was it, egad! Nor were we the only two to observe the fact. As each + new arrival made his entry I could hear the Nabob, who was standing near + the door, exclaim, with consternation in his thick voice like that of a + Marseillais with a cold in his head: + </p> + <p> + “What! all alone?” + </p> + <p> + The guest would murmur his excuses. “Mn-mn-mn—his wife a trifle + indisposed. Certainly very sorry.” Then another would arrive, and the same + question call forth the same reply. + </p> + <p> + By its constant repetition this phrase “All alone?” had eventually become + a jest in the vestibule; lackeys and footmen threw it at each other + whenever there entered a new guest “all alone!” And we laughed and were + put in good-humour by it. But M. Nicklauss, with his great experience of + the world, deemed this almost general abstention of the fair sex + unnatural. + </p> + <p> + “It must be the article in the <i>Messenger</i>,” said he. + </p> + <p> + Everybody was talking about it, this rascally article, and before the + mirror garlanded with flowers, at which each guest gave a finishing touch + to his attire before entering, I surprised fragments of whispered + conversation such as this: + </p> + <p> + “You have read it?” + </p> + <p> + “It is horrible!” + </p> + <p> + “Do you think the thing possible?” + </p> + <p> + “I have no idea. In any case, I preferred not to bring my wife.” + </p> + <p> + “I have done the same. A man can go everywhere without compromising + himself.” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly. While a woman——” + </p> + <p> + Then they would go in, opera hat under arm, with that conquering air of + married men when they are unaccompanied by their wives. + </p> + <p> + What, then, could there be in this newspaper, this terrible article, to + menace to this degree the influence of so wealthy a man? Unfortunately, my + duties took up the whole of my time. I could go down neither to the pantry + nor to the cloak-room to obtain information, to chat with the coachmen and + valets and lackeys whom I could see standing at the foot of the staircase, + amusing themselves by jests upon the people who were going up. What will + you? Masters give themselves great airs also. How not laugh to see go by + with an insolent manner and an empty stomach the Marquis and the Marquise + de Bois l’Hery, after all that we have been told about the traffickings of + Monsieur and the toilettes of Madame? And the Jenkins couple, so tender, + so united, the doctor carefully putting a lace shawl over his lady’s + shoulders for fear she should take cold on the staircase; she herself + smiling and in full dress, all in velvet, with a great long train, leaning + on her husband’s arm with an air that seems to say, “How happy I am!” when + I happened to know that, in fact, since the death of the Irishwoman, his + real, legitimate wife, the doctor is thinking of getting rid of the old + woman who clings to him, in order to be able to marry a chit of a girl, + and that the old woman passes her nights in lamentation, and in spoiling + with tears whatever beauty she has left. + </p> + <p> + The humorous thing is that not one of these people had the least suspicion + of the rich jests and jeers that were spat over their backs as they + passed, not a notion of the filth which those long trains drew after them + as they crossed the carpet of the antechamber, and they all would look at + you so disdainfully that it was enough to make you die of laughing. + </p> + <p> + The two ladies whom I have just named, the wife of the governor, a little + Corsican, to whom her bushy eyebrows, her white teeth, and her shining + cheeks, dark beneath the skin, give the appearance of a woman of Auvergne + with a washed face, a good sort, for the rest, and laughing all the time + except when her husband is looking at other women; in addition, a few + Levantines with tiaras of gold or pearls, less perfect specimens of the + type than our own, but still in a similar style, wives of upholsterers, + jewellers, regular tradesmen of the establishment, with shoulders as large + as shop-fronts, and expensive toilettes; finally, sundry ladies, wives of + officials of the Territorial, in sorry, badly creased dresses; these + constituted the sole representation of the fair sex in the assembly, some + thirty ladies lost among a thousand black coats—that is to say, + practically none at all. From time to time Cassagne, Laporte, Grandvarlet, + who were serving the refreshments in trays, stopped to inform us of what + was passing in the drawing-rooms. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, my boys, if you could see it! it has a gloom, a melancholy. The men + don’t stir from the buffets. The ladies are all at the back, seated in a + circle, fanning themselves and saying nothing. The fat old lady does not + speak to a soul. I fancy she is sulking. You should see the look on + Monsieur! Come, <i>pere</i> Passajon, a glass of Chateau-Larose; it will + pick you up a bit.” + </p> + <p> + They were charmingly kind to me, all these young people, and took a + mischievous pleasure in doing me the honours of the cellar so often and so + copiously, that my tongue commenced to become heavy, uncertain, and as the + young folk said to me, in their somewhat free language. “Uncle, you are + babbling.” Happily the last of the effendis had just arrived, and there + was nobody else to announce; for it was in vain that I sought to shake off + the impression, every time I advanced between the curtains to send a name + hurtling through the air at random, I saw the chandeliers of the + drawing-rooms revolving with hundreds of dazzling lights, and the floors + slipping away with sharp and perpendicular slopes like Russian mountains. + I was bound to get my speech mixed, it is certain. + </p> + <p> + The cool night-air, sundry ablutions at the pump in the court-yard, + quickly got the better of this small discomfort, and when I entered the + cloak-room nothing of it was any longer apparent. I found a numerous and + gay company collected round a <i>marquise au champagne</i>, of which all + my nieces, wearing their best dresses, with their hair puffed out and + cravats of pink ribbon, took their full share notwithstanding exclamations + and bewitching little grimaces that deceived nobody. Naturally, the + conversation turned on the famous article, an article by Moessard, it + appears, full of frightful occupations which the Nabob was alleged to have + followed fifteen or twenty years ago, at the time of his first sojourn in + Paris. + </p> + <p> + It was the third attack of the kind which the <i>Messenger</i> had + published in the course of the last week, and that rogue of a Moessard had + the spite to send the number each time done up in a packet to the Place + Vendome. + </p> + <p> + M. Jansoulet received it in the morning with his chocolate; and at the + same hour his friends and his enemies—for a man like the Nabob could + be regarded with indifference by none—would be reading, commenting, + tracing for themselves the relation to him a line of conduct designed to + save them from becoming compromised. Today’s article must be supposed to + have struck hard all the same; for Jansoulet, the coachman, recounted to + us a few hours ago, in the Bois, his master had not exchanged ten + greetings in the course of ten drives round the lake, while ordinarily his + hat is as rarely on his head as a sovereign’s when he takes the air. Then, + when they got back, there was another trouble. The three boys had just + arrived at the house, all in tears and dismay, brought home from the + College Bourdaloue by a worthy father in the interest of the poor little + fellows themselves, who had received a temporary leave of absence in order + to spare them from hearing in the parlour or the playground any unkind + story or painful allusion. Thereupon the Nabob flew into a terrible + passion, which caused him to destroy a service of porcelain, and it + appears that, had it not been for M. de Gery, he would have rushed off at + once to punch Moessard’s head. + </p> + <p> + “And he would have done very well,” remarked M. Noel, entering at these + last words, very much excited. “There is not a line of truth in that + rascal’s article. My master had never been in Paris before last year. From + Tunis to Marseilles, from Marseilles to Tunis, those were his only + journeys. But this knave of a journalist is taking his revenge because we + refused him twenty thousand francs.” + </p> + <p> + “There you acted very unwisely,” observed M. Francis upon this—Monpavon’s + Francis, Monpavon the old beau whose solitary tooth shakes about in the + centre of his mouth at every word he says, but whom the young ladies + regard with a favourable eye all the same on account of his fine manners. + “Yes, you were unwise. One must know how to conciliate people, so long as + they are in a position to be useful to us or to injure us. Your Nabob has + turned his back too quickly upon his friends after his success; and + between you and me, <i>mon cher</i>, he is not sufficiently firmly + established to be able to disregard attacks of this kind.” + </p> + <p> + I thought myself able here to put in a word in my turn: + </p> + <p> + “That is true enough, M. Noel, your governor is no longer the same since + his election. He has adopted a tone and manners which I can hardly but + describe as reprehensible. The day before yesterday, at the Territorial, + he raised a commotion which you can hardly imagine. He was heard to + exclaim before the whole board: ‘You have lied to me; you have robbed me, + and made me a robber as much as yourselves. Show me your books, you set of + rogues!’ If he has treated Moessard in the same sort of fashion, I am not + surprised any longer that the latter should be taking his revenge in his + newspaper.” + </p> + <p> + “But what does this article say?” asked M. Barreau. “Who is present that + has read it?” + </p> + <p> + Nobody answered. Several had tried to buy it, but in Paris scandal sells + like bread. At ten o’clock in the morning there was not a single copy of + the <i>Messenger</i> left in the office. Then it occurred to one of my + nieces—a sharp girl, if ever there was one—to look in the + pocket of one of the numerous overcoats in the cloak-room, folded + carefully in large pigeon-holes. At the first which she examined: + </p> + <p> + “Here it is!” exclaimed the charming child with an air of triumph, as she + drew out a <i>Messenger</i> crumpled in the folding like a paper that has + just been read. + </p> + <p> + “Here is another!” cried Tom Bois l’Hery, who was making a search on his + own account. A third overcoat, a third <i>Messenger</i>. And in every one + the same thing: pushed down to the bottom of a pocket, or with its + titlepage protruding, the newspaper was everywhere, just as its article + must have been in every memory; and one could imagine the Nabob up above + exchanging polite phrases with his guests, while they could have reeled + off by heart the atrocious things that had been printed about him. We all + laughed much at this idea; but we were anxious to make acquaintance in our + own turn with this curious article. + </p> + <p> + “Come, <i>pere</i> Passajon, read it aloud to us.” + </p> + <p> + It was the general desire, and I assented. + </p> + <p> + I don’t know if you are like me, but when I read aloud I gargle my throat + with my voice; I introduce modulations and flourishes to such an extent + that I understand nothing of what I am saying, like those singers to whom + the sense of the words matters little, provided the notes be true. The + thing was entitled “The Boat of Flowers”—a sufficiently complicated + story, with Chinese names, about a very rich mandarin, who had at one time + in the past kept a “boat of flowers” moored quite at the far end of the + town near a barrier frequented by the soldiers. At the end of the article + we were not farther on than at the beginning. We tried certainly to wink + at each other, to pretend to be clever; but, frankly, we had no reason. A + veritable puzzle without solution; and we should still be stuck fast at it + if old Francis, a regular rascal who knows everything, had not explained + to us that this meeting place of the soldiers must stand for the Military + School, and that the “boat of flowers” did not bear so pretty a name as + that in good French. And this name, he said it aloud notwithstanding the + presence of the ladies. There was an explosion of cries, of “Ah’s!” and + “Oh’s!” some saying, “I suspected it!” others, “It is impossible!” + </p> + <p> + “Pardon me,” added Francis, formerly a trumpeter in the Ninth Lancers—the + regiment of Mora and of Monpavon—“pardon me. Twenty years ago, + during the last half year of my service, I was in barracks in the Military + School, and I remember very well that near the fortifications there was a + dirty dancing-hall known as the Jansoulet Rooms, with a little furnished + flat above and bedrooms at twopence-halfpenny the hour, to which one could + retire between two quadrilles.” + </p> + <p> + “You are an infamous liar!” said M. Noel, beside himself with rage—“a + thief and a liar like your master. Jansoulet has never been in Paris + before now.” + </p> + <p> + Francis was seated a little outside our circle engaged in sipping + something sweet, because champagne has a bad effect on his nerves and + because, too, it is not a sufficiently distinguished beverage for him. He + rose gravely, without putting down his glass, and, advancing towards M. + Noel, said to him very quietly: + </p> + <p> + “You are wanting in manners, <i>mon cher</i>. The other evening I found + your tone coarse and unseemly. To insult people serves no good purpose, + especially in this case, since I happen to have been an assistant to a + fencing-master, and, if matters were carried further between us, could put + a couple of inches of steel into whatever part of your body I might + choose. But I am good-natured. Instead of a sword-thrust, I prefer to give + you a piece of advice, which your master will do well to follow. This is + what I should do in your place: I should go and find Moessard, and I + should buy him, without quibbling about price. Hemerlingue has given him + twenty thousand francs to speak; I would offer him thirty thousand to hold + his tongue.” + </p> + <p> + “Never! never!” vociferated M. Noel. “I should rather go and knock the + rascally brigand’s head off.” + </p> + <p> + “You will do nothing of the kind. Whether the calumny be true or false, + you have seen the effect of it this evening. This is a sample of the + pleasures in store for you. What can you expect, <i>mon cher</i>? You have + thrown away your crutches too soon, and thought to walk by yourselves. + That is all very well when one is well set up and firm on the legs; but + when one had not a very solid footing, and has also the misfortune to feel + Hemerlingue at his heels, it is a bad business. Besides, your master is + beginning to be short of money; he has given notes of hand to old + Schwalbach—and don’t talk to me of a Nabob who gives notes of hand. + I know well that you have millions over yonder, but your election must be + declared valid before you can touch them; a few more articles like + to-day’s, and I answer for it that you will not secure that declaration. + You set yourselves up to struggle against Paris, <i>mon bon</i>, but you + are not big enough for such a match; you know nothing about it. Here we + are not in the East, and if we do not wring the necks of people who + displease us, if we do not throw them into the water in a sack, we have + other methods of effecting their disappearance. Noel, let your master take + care. One of these mornings Paris will swallow him as I swallow this plum, + without spitting out either the stone or skin.” + </p> + <p> + He was terrible, this old man, and notwithstanding the paint on his face, + I felt a certain respect for him. While he was speaking, we could hear the + music upstairs, and the horses of the municipal guards shaking their + curb-chains in the square. From without, our festivities must have seemed + very brilliant, all lighted up by their thousands of candles, and with the + great portico illuminated. And when one reflected that ruin perhaps lay + beneath it all! We sat there in the vestibule like rats that hold counsel + with each other at the bottom of a ship’s hold, when the vessel is + beginning to leak and before the crew has found it out, and I saw clearly + that all the lackeys and chambermaids would not be long in decamping at + the first note of alarm. Could such a catastrophe indeed be possible? And + in that case what would become of me, and the Territorial, and the money I + had advanced, and the arrears due to me? + </p> + <p> + That Francis has left me with a cold shudder down my back. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0019" id="link2H_4_0019"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + A PUBLIC MAN + </h2> + <p> + The bright warmth of a clear May afternoon heated the lofty casement + windows of the Mora mansion to the temperature of a greenhouse. The blue + silk curtains were visible from outside through the branches of the trees, + and the wide terraces, where exotic flowers were planted out of doors for + the first time of the season, ran in borders along the whole length of the + quay. The raking of the garden paths traced the light footprints of summer + in the sand, while the soft fall of the water from the hoses on the lawns + was its refreshing song. + </p> + <p> + All the luxury of the princely residence lay sunning itself in the soft + warmth of the temperature, borrowing a beauty from the silence, the repose + of this noontide hour, the only hour when the roll of carriages was not to + be heard under the arches, nor the banging of the great doors of the + antechamber, and that perpetual vibration which the ringing of bells upon + arrivals or departures sent coursing through the very ivy on the walls; + the feverish pulse of the life of a fashionable house. It was well known + that up to three o’clock the duke held his reception at the Ministry, and + that the duchess, a Swede still benumbed by the snows of Stockholm, had + hardly issued from her drowsy curtains; consequently nobody came to call, + neither visitors or petitioners, and only the footmen, perched like + flamingoes on the deserted flight of steps in front of the house, gave the + place a touch of animation with the slim shadows of their long legs and + their yawning weariness of idlers. + </p> + <p> + As an exception, however, that day Jenkins’s brougham was standing waiting + in a corner of the court-yard. The duke, unwell since the previous + evening, had felt worse after leaving the breakfast-table, and in all + haste had sent for the man of the pearls in order to question him on his + singular condition. Pain nowhere, sleep and appetite as usual; only an + inconceivable lassitude, and a sense of terrible chill which nothing could + dissipate. Thus at that moment, notwithstanding the brilliant spring + sunshine which flooded his chamber and almost extinguished the fire + flaming in the grate, the duke was shivering beneath his furs, surrounded + by screens; and while signing papers for an <i>attache</i> of his cabinet + on a low table of gold lacquer, placed so near to the fire that it + frizzled, he kept holding out his numb fingers every moment toward the + blaze, which might have burned the skin without restoring circulation. + </p> + <p> + Was it anxiety caused by the indisposition of his illustrious client? + Jenkins appeared nervous, disquieted, walked backward and forward with + long strides over the carpet, hunting about right and left, seeking in the + air something which he believed to be present, a subtle and intangible + something like the trace of a perfume or the invisible track left by a + bird in its flight. You heard the crackling of the wood in the fireplace, + the rustle of papers hurriedly turned over, the indolent voice of the duke + indicating in a sentence, always precise and clear, a reply to a letter of + four pages, and the respectful monosyllables of the <i>attache</i>—“Yes, + M. le Ministre,” “No, M. le Ministre”; then the scraping of a rebellious + and heavy pen. Out of doors the swallows were twittering merrily over the + water, the sound of a clarinet was wafted from somewhere near the bridges. + </p> + <p> + “It is impossible,” suddenly said the Minister of State, rising. “Take + that away, Lartigues; you must return to-morrow. I cannot write. I am too + cold. See, doctor; feel my hands—one would think that they had just + come out of a pail of iced water. For the last two days my whole body has + been the same. Isn’t it too absurd, in this weather!” + </p> + <p> + “I am not surprised,” muttered the Irishman, in a sullen, curt tone, + rarely heard from that honeyed personage. + </p> + <p> + The door had closed upon the young <i>attache</i>, bearing off his papers + with majestic dignity, but very happy, I imagine, to feel himself free and + to be able to stroll for an hour or two, before returning to the Ministry, + in the Tuileries gardens, full of spring frocks and pretty girls sitting + near the still empty chairs round the band, under the chestnut-trees in + flower, through which from root to summit there ran the great thrill of + the month when nests are built. The <i>attache</i> was certainly not + frozen. + </p> + <p> + Jenkins, silently, examined his patient, sounded him, and tapped his + chest; then, in the same rough tone which might be explained by his + anxious devotion, the annoyance of the doctor who sees his orders + transgressed: + </p> + <p> + “Ah, now, my dear duke, what sort of life have you been living lately?” + </p> + <p> + He knew from the gossip of the antechamber—in the case of his + regular clients the doctor did not disdain this—he knew that the + duke had a new favourite, that this caprice of recent date possessed him, + excited him in an extraordinary measure, and the fact, taken together with + other observations made elsewhere, had implanted in Jenkins’s mind a + suspicion, a mad desire to know the name of this new mistress. It was this + that he was trying to read on the pale face of his patient, attempting to + fathom the depth of his thoughts rather than the origin of his malady. But + he had to deal with one of those faces which are hermetically sealed, like + those little coffers with a secret spring which hold jewels and women’s + letters, one of those discreet natures closed by a cold, blue eye, a + glance of steel by which the most astute perspicacity may be baffled. + </p> + <p> + “You are mistaken, doctor,” replied his excellency tranquilly. “I have + made no changes in my habits.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well, M. le Duc, you have done wrong,” remarked the Irishman + abruptly, furious at having made no discovery. + </p> + <p> + And then, feeling that he was going too far, he gave vent to his bad + temper and to the severity of his diagnosis in words which were a tissue + of banalities and axioms. One ought to take care. Medicine was not magic. + The power of the Jenkins pearls was limited by human strength, by the + necessities of age, by the resources of nature, which, unfortunately, are + not inexhaustible. The duke interrupted him in an irritable tone: + </p> + <p> + “Come, Jenkins, you know very well that I don’t like phrases. I am not all + right, then? What is the matter with me? What is the reason of this + chilliness?” + </p> + <p> + “It is anaemia, exhaustion—a sinking of the oil in the lamp.” + </p> + <p> + “What must I do?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing. An absolute rest. Eat, sleep, nothing besides. If you could go + and spend a few weeks at Grandbois.” + </p> + <p> + Mora shrugged his shoulders: + </p> + <p> + “And the Chamber—and the Council—and—? Nonsense! how is + it possible?” + </p> + <p> + “In any case, M. le Duc, you must put the brake on; as somebody said, + renounce absolutely—” + </p> + <p> + Jenkins was interrupted by the entry of the servant on duty, who, + discreetly, on tiptoe, like a dancing-master, came in to deliver a letter + and a card to the Minister of State, who was still shivering before the + fire. At the sight of that satin-gray envelope of a peculiar shape the + Irishman started involuntarily, while the duke, having opened and glanced + over his letter, rose with new vigor, his cheeks wearing that light flush + of artificial health which all the heat of the stove had not been able to + bring there. + </p> + <p> + “My dear doctor, I must at any price—” + </p> + <p> + The servant still stood waiting. + </p> + <p> + “What is it? Ah, yes; this card. Take the visitor to the gallery. I shall + be there directly.” + </p> + <p> + The gallery of the Duke de Mora, open to visitors twice a week, was for + himself, as it were, a neutral ground, a public place where he could see + any one without binding or compromising himself in any way. Then, the + servant having withdrawn: + </p> + <p> + “Jenkins, <i>mon bon</i>, you have already worked miracles for me. I ask + you for one more. Double the dose of my pearls; find something, whatever + you will. But I must be feeling young by Sunday. You understand me, + altogether young.” + </p> + <p> + And on the little letter in his hand, his fingers, warm once more and + feverish, clinched themselves with a thrill of eager desire. + </p> + <p> + “Take care, M. le Duc,” said Jenkins, very pale and with compressed lips. + “I have no wish to alarm you unnecessarily with regard to the feeble state + of your health, but it becomes my duty—” + </p> + <p> + Mora gave a smile of pretty arrogance: + </p> + <p> + “Your duty and my pleasure are two separate things, my worthy friend. Let + me burn the candle at both ends, if it amuses me. I have never had so fine + an opportunity as this time.” + </p> + <p> + He started: + </p> + <p> + “The duchess!” + </p> + <p> + A door concealed behind a curtain had just opened to give passage to a + merry little head with fair curls in disorder, quite fairy-like amid the + laces and frills of a dressing-jacket worthy of a princess: + </p> + <p> + “What do I hear? You have not gone out? But do scold him, doctor. He is + wrong, isn’t he, to have so many fancies about himself? Look at him—a + picture of health!” + </p> + <p> + “There—you see,” said the duke, laughing, to the Irishman. “You will + not come in, duchess?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I am going to carry you off, on the contrary. My uncle d’Estaing has + sent me a cage full of tropical birds. I want to show them to you. + Wonderful creatures, of all colours, with little eyes like black pearls. + And so sensitive to cold—nearly as much so as you are.” + </p> + <p> + “Let us go and have a look at them,” said the minister. “Wait for me, + Jenkins. I shall be back in a moment.” + </p> + <p> + Then, noticing that he still had his letter in his hand, he threw it + carelessly into the drawer of the little table at which he had been + signing papers, and left the room behind the duchess, with the fine + coolness of a husband accustomed to these changes of situation. + </p> + <p> + What prodigious mechanic, what incomparable manufacturer of toys, must it + have been who succeeded in endowing the human mask with its suppleness, + its marvellous elasticity! How interesting to observe the face of this + great seigneur surprised in the very planning of his adultery, with cheeks + flushed in the anticipation of promised delights, calming down at a + moment’s notice into the serenity of conjugal tenderness; how fine the + devout obsequiousness, the paternal smile, after the Franklin method, of + Jenkins, in the presence of the duchess, giving place suddenly, when he + found himself alone, to a savage expression of anger and hatred, the + pallor of a criminal, the pallor of a Castaing or of a Lapommerais + hatching his sinister treasons. + </p> + <p> + One rapid glance towards each of the two doors, and he stood before the + drawer full of precious papers, the little gold key still remaining in the + lock with an arrogant carelessness, which seemed to say, “No one will + dare.” + </p> + <p> + Jenkins dared. + </p> + <p> + The letter lay there, the first on a pile of others. The grain of the + paper, an address of three words dashed off in a simple, bold handwriting, + and then the perfume, that intoxicating, suggestive perfume, the very + breath of her divine lips—It was true, then, his jealous love had + not deceived him, nor the embarrassment she had shown in his presence for + some time past, nor the secretive and rejuvenated airs of Constance, nor + those bouquets magnificently blooming in the studio as in the shadow of an + intrigue. That indomitable pride had surrendered, then, at last? But in + that case, why not to him, Jenkins? To him who had loved her for so long—always; + who was ten years younger than the other man, and who certainly was + troubled with no cold shiverings! All these thoughts passed through his + head like arrows shot from a tireless bow. And, stabbed through and + through, torn to pieces, his eyes blinded, he stood there looking at the + little satiny and cold envelope which he did not dare open for fear of + dismissing a final doubt, when the rustling of a curtain warned him that + some one had just come in. He threw the letter back quickly, and closed + the wonderfully adjusted drawer of the lacquered table. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! it is you, Jansoulet. How is it you are here?” + </p> + <p> + “His excellency told me to come and wait for him in his room,” replied the + Nabob, very proud of being thus introduced into the privacy of the + apartments, at an hour, especially, when visitors were not generally + received. As a fact, the duke was beginning to show a real liking for this + savage, for several reasons: to begin with, he liked audacious people, + adventurers who followed their lucky star. Was he not one of them himself? + Then, the Nabob amused him; his accent, his frank manners, his rather + coarse and impudent flattery, were a change for him from the eternal + conventionality of his surroundings, from that scourge of administrative + and court life which he held in horror—the set speech—in such + great horror that he never finished a sentence which he had begun. The + Nabob had an unforeseen way of finishing his which was sometimes full of + surprises. A fine gambler as well, losing games of <i>ecarte</i> at five + thousand francs the fish without flinching. And so convenient when one + wanted to get rid of a picture, always ready to buy, no matter at what + price. To these motives of condescending kindness there had come to be + joined of late a sentiment of pity and indignation in the face of the + tenacity with which the unfortunate man was being persecuted, the cowardly + and merciless war so ably managed, that public opinion, always credulous + and with neck outstretched to see which way the wind is blowing, was + beginning to be seriously influenced. One must do to Mora the justice of + admitting that he was no follower of the crowd. When he had seen in a + corner of the gallery the simple but rather piteous and discomfited face + of the Nabob, he had thought it cowardly to receive him there, and had + sent him up to his private room. + </p> + <p> + Jenkins and Jansoulet, sufficiently embarrassed by each other’s presence, + exchanged a few commonplace words. Their great friendship had recently + cooled, Jansoulet having refused point-blank all further subsidies to the + Bethlehem Society, leaving the business on the Irishman’s hands, who was + furious at this defection, and much more furious still at this moment + because he had not been able to open Felicia’s letter before the arrival + of the intruder. The Nabob, on his side, was asking himself whether the + doctor was going to be present at the conversation which he wished to have + with the duke on the subject of the infamous insinuations with which the + <i>Messenger</i> was pursuing him; anxious also to know whether these + calumnies might not have produced a coolness in that sovereign good-will + which was so necessary to him at the moment of the verification of his + election. The greeting which he had received in the gallery had half + reassured him on this point; he was entirely satisfied when the duke + entered and came towards him with outstretched hand: + </p> + <p> + “Well, my poor Jansoulet, I hope Paris is making you pay dearly enough for + your welcome. What brawling and hate and spite one finds!” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, M. le Duc, if you knew—” + </p> + <p> + “I know. I have read it,” said the minister, moving closer to the fire. + </p> + <p> + “I sincerely hope that your excellency does not believe these infamies. + Besides, I have here—I bring the proof.” + </p> + <p> + With his strong hairy hands, trembling with emotion, he hunted among the + papers in an enormous shagreen portfolio which he had under his arm. + </p> + <p> + “Never mind that—never mind. I am acquainted with the whole affair. + I know that, wilfully or not, they have mixed you up with another person, + whom family considerations—” + </p> + <p> + The duke could not restrain a smile at the bewilderment of the Nabob, + stupefied to find him so well informed. + </p> + <p> + “A Minister of State has to know everything. But don’t worry. Your + election will be declared valid all the same. And once declared valid—” + </p> + <p> + Jansoulet heaved a sigh of relief. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, M. le Duc, how it cheers me to hear you speak thus! I was beginning + to lose all confidence. My enemies are so powerful. And a piece of bad + luck into the bargain. Do you know that it is Le Merquier himself who is + charged with the report on my election?” + </p> + <p> + “Le Merquier? The devil!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Le Merquier, Hemerlingue’s agent, the dirty hypocrite who converted + the baroness, no doubt because his religion forbade him to have a + Mohammedan for a mistress.” + </p> + <p> + “Come, come, Jansoulet.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, M. le Duc? One can’t help being angry. Think of the situation in + which these wretches are placing me. Here I ought to have had my election + made valid a week ago, and they arrange the postponement of the sitting + expressly because they know the terrible position in which I am placed—my + whole fortune paralyzed, the Bey waiting for the decision of the Chamber + to decide whether or not he can plunder me. I have eighty millions over + there, M. le Duc, and here I begin to be short of money. If the thing goes + on only a little longer—” + </p> + <p> + He wiped away the big drops of sweat that trickled down his cheeks. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, well, I will look after this validation myself,” said the minister + sharply. “I will write to what’s-his-name to hurry up with his report; and + even if I have to be carried to the Chamber—” + </p> + <p> + “Your excellency is unwell?” asked Jansoulet, in a tone of interest which, + I swear to you, had no affectation about it. + </p> + <p> + “No—a little weakness. I am rather anaemic—wanting blood; but + Jenkins is going to put me right. Aren’t you, Jenkins?” + </p> + <p> + The Irishman, who had not been listening, made a vague gesture. + </p> + <p> + “<i>Tonnerre!</i> And here am I with only too much of it.” + </p> + <p> + And the Nabob loosened his cravat about his neck, swollen like an apoplexy + by his emotion and the heat of the room. “If I could only transfer a + little to you, M. le Duc!” + </p> + <p> + “It would be an excellent thing for both,” said the Minister of State with + pale irony. “For you, especially, who are a violent fellow, and who at + this moment need so much self-control. Take care on that point, Jansoulet. + Beware of the hot retorts, the steps taken in a fit of temper to which + they would like to drive you. Repeat to yourself now that you are a public + man, on a platform, all of whose actions are observed from far. The + newspapers are abusing you; don’t read them, if you cannot conceal the + emotion which they cause you. Don’t do what I did, with my blind man of + the Pont de la Concorde, that frightful clarinet-player, who for the last + ten years has been blighting my life by playing all day ‘De tes fils, + Norma.’ I have tried everything to get him away from there—money, + threats. Nothing has succeeded in inducing him to go. The police? Ah, yes, + indeed. With modern ideas, it becomes quite a business to clear off a + blind man from a bridge. The Opposition newspapers would talk of it, the + Parisians would make a story out of it—‘<i>The Cobbler and the + Financier</i>.’ ‘The Duke and the Clarinet.’ No, I must resign myself. It + is, besides, my own fault. I never ought to have let this man see that he + annoyed me. I am sure that my torture makes half the pleasure of his life + now. Every morning he comes forth from his wretched lodging with his dog, + his folding-stool, his frightful music, and says to himself, ‘Come, let us + go and worry the Duc de Mora.’ Not a day does he miss, the wretch! Why, + see, if I were but to open the window a trifle, you would hear his deluge + of little sharp notes above the noise of the water and the traffic. Well, + this journalist of the <i>Messenger</i>, he is your clarinet; if you allow + him to see that his music wearies you, he will never finish. And with + this, my dear deputy, I will remind you that you have a meeting at three + o’clock at the office, and I must send you back to the Chamber.” + </p> + <p> + Then turning to Jenkins: + </p> + <p> + “You know what I asked of you, doctor—pearls for the day after + to-morrow; and let them be extra strong!” + </p> + <p> + Jenkins started, shook himself as at the sudden awakening from a dream: + </p> + <p> + “Certainly, my dear duke. You shall be given some stamina—oh, yes; + stamina, breath enough to win the great Derby stakes.” + </p> + <p> + He bowed, and left the room laughing, the veritable laugh of a wolf + showing its gleaming white teeth. The Nabob took leave in his turn, his + heart filled with gratitude, but not daring to let anything of it appear + in the presence of this sceptic in whom all demonstrativeness aroused + distrust. And the Minister of State, left alone, rolled up in his wraps + before the crackling and blazing fire, sheltered in the padded warmth of + his luxury, doubled that day by the feverish caress of the May sunshine, + began to shiver with cold again, to shiver so violently that Felicia’s + letter which he had reopened and was reading rapturously shook in his + hands. + </p> + <p> + A deputy is in a very singular situation during the period which follows + his election and precedes—as they say in parliamentary jargon—the + verification of its validity. It is a little like the position of the + newly married man during the twenty-four hours separating the civil + marriage from its consecration by the Church. Rights of which he cannot + avail himself, a half-happiness, a semi-authority, the embarrassment of + keeping the balance a little on this side or on that, the lack of a + defined footing. One is married and yet not married, a deputy and yet not + perfectly sure of being it; only, for the deputy, this uncertainty is + prolonged over days and weeks, and since the longer it lasts the more + problematical does the validation become, it is like torture for the + unfortunate representative on probation to be obliged to attend the + Chamber, to occupy a place which he will perhaps not keep, to listen to + discussions of which it is possible that he will never hear the end, to + fix in his eyes and ears the delicious memory of parliamentary sittings + with their sea of bald or apoplectic foreheads, their confused noise of + rustling papers, the cries of attendants, wooden knives beating a tattoo + on the tables, private conversations from amid which the voice of the + orator issues, a thundering or timid solo with a continuous accompaniment. + </p> + <p> + This situation, at best so trying to the nerves, was complicated in the + Nabob’s case by these calumnies, at first whispered, now printed, + circulated in thousands of copies by the newspapers, with the consequence + that he found himself tacitly put in quarantine by his colleagues. + </p> + <p> + The first days he went and came in the corridors, the library, the + dining-room, the lecture-hall, like the rest, delighted to roam through + all the corners of that majestic labyrinth; but he was unknown to most of + his associates, unacknowledged by a few members of the Rue Royale Club, + who avoided him, detested by all the clerical party of which Le Merquier + was the head. The financial set was hostile to this multi-millionaire, + powerful in both “bull” and “bear” market, like those vessels of heavy + tonnage which displace the water of a harbour, and thus his isolation only + became the more marked by the change in his circumstances and the same + enmity followed him everywhere. + </p> + <p> + His gestures, his manner, showed trace of it in a certain constraint, a + sort of hesitating distrust. He felt he was watched. If he went for a + minute into the <i>buffet</i>, that large bright room opening on the + gardens of the president’s house, which he liked because there, at the + broad counter of white marble laden with bottles and provisions, the + deputies lost their big, imposing airs, the legislative haughtiness + allowed itself to become more familiar, even there he knew that the next + day there would appear in the <i>Messenger</i> a mocking, offensive + paragraph exhibiting him to his electors as a wine-bibber of the most + notorious order. + </p> + <p> + Those terrible electors added to his embarrassments. + </p> + <p> + They arrived in crowds, invaded the Salle des Pas-Perdus, galloped all + over the place like little fiery black kids, shouting to each other from + one end to the other of the echoing room, “O Pe! O Tche!” inhaling with + delight the odour of government, of administration, pervading the air, + watching admiringly the ministers as they passed, following in their trail + with keen nose, as though from their respected pockets, from their swollen + portfolios, there might fall some appointment; but especially surrounding + “Moussiou” Jansoulet with so many exacting petitions, reclamations, + demonstrations, that, in order to free himself from the gesticulating + uproar which made everybody turn round, and turned him as it were into the + delegate of a tribe of Tuaregs in the midst of civilized folk, he was + obliged to implore with a look the help of some attendant on duty familiar + with such acts of rescue, who would come to him with an air of urgency to + say “that he was wanted immediately in Bureau No. 8.” So at last, + embarrassed everywhere, driven from the corridors, from the Pas-Perdus, + from the refreshment-room, the poor Nabob had adopted the course of never + leaving his seat, where he remained motionless and without speaking during + the whole time of the sitting. + </p> + <p> + He had, however, one friend in the Chamber, a deputy newly elected for the + Deux-Sevres, called M. Sarigue, a poor man sufficiently resembling the + inoffensive and ill-favoured animal whose name he bore, with his red and + scanty hair, his timorous eyes, his hopping walk, his white gaiters; he + was so timid that he could not utter two words without stuttering, almost + voiceless, continually sucking jujubes, which completed the confusion of + his speech. One asked what such a weakling as he had come to do in the + Assembly, what feminine ambition run mad had urged into public life this + being useless for no matter what private activity. + </p> + <p> + By an amusing irony of fate, Jansoulet, himself agitated by all the + anxieties of his own validation, was chosen in Bureau no. 8 to draw up the + report on the election in the Deux-Sevres; and M. Sarigue, humble and + supplicating, conscious of his incapacity and filled by a horrible dread + of being sent back to his home in disgrace, used to follow about this + great jovial fellow with the curly hair and big shoulder blades that moved + like the bellows of a forge beneath a light and tightly fitting + frock-coat, without any suspicion that a poor anxious being like himself + lay concealed within that solid envelope. + </p> + <p> + As he worked at the report on the Deux-Sevres election, as he examined the + numerous protests, the accusations of electioneering trickery, meals + given, money spent, casks of wine broached at the doors of the mayors’ + houses, the usual accompaniments of an election in those days, Jansoulet + used to shudder on his own account. “Why, I did all that myself,” he would + say to himself, terrified. Ah! M. Sarigue need not be afraid; never could + he have put his hand on an examiner with kinder intentions or more + indulgent, for the Nabob, taking pity on the sufferer, knowing by + experience how painful is the anguish of waiting, had made haste through + his labour; and the enormous portfolio which he carried under his arm, as + he left the Mora mansion, contained his report ready to be sent in to the + bureau. + </p> + <p> + Whether it were this first essay in a public function, the kind words of + the duke, or the magnificent weather out of doors, keenly enjoyed by this + southerner, with his susceptibility to wholly physical impressions and + accustomed to life under a blue sky and the warmth of the sunshine—however + that may have been, certain it is that the attendants of the legislative + body beheld that day a proud and haughty Jansoulet whom they had not + previously known. The fat Hemerlingue’s carriage, caught sight of at the + gate, recognisable by the unusual width of its doors, completed his + reinstatement in the possession of his true nature of assurance and bold + audacity. “The enemy is there. Attention!” As he crossed the Salle des + Pas-Perdus, he caught sight of the financier chatting in a corner with Le + Merquier, the examiner; he passed quite near them, and looked at them with + a triumphant air which made people wonder: + </p> + <p> + “What is the meaning of this?” + </p> + <p> + Then, highly pleased at his own coolness, he passed on towards the + committee-rooms, big and lofty apartments opening right and left on a long + corridor, and having large tables covered with green baize, and heavy + chairs all of a similar pattern and bearing the impress of a dull + solemnity. People were beginning to come in. Groups were taking up their + positions, discussing matters, gesticulating, with bows, shakings of + hands, inclinations of the head, like Chinese shadows against the luminous + background of the windows. + </p> + <p> + Men were there who walked about with bent back, solitary, as it were + crushed down beneath the weight of the thoughts which knitted their brow. + Others whispering in their neighbour’s ears, confiding to each other + exceedingly mysterious and terribly important pieces of news, finger on + lip, eyes opened wide in silent recommendation to discretion. A provincial + flavour characterized it all, varieties of intonation, the violence of + southern speech, drawling accents of the central districts, the sing-song + of Brittany, fused into one and the same imbecile self-conceit, + frock-coats as they cut them at Landerneau, mountain shoes, home-spun + linen, and a self-assurance begotten in a village or in the club of some + insignificant town, local expressions, provincialisms abruptly introduced + into the speech of the political and administrative world, that flabby and + colourless phraseology which has invented such expressions as “burning + questions that come again to the surface” and “individualities without + mandate.” + </p> + <p> + To see these excited or thoughtful people, you might have supposed them + the greatest apostles of ideas in the world; unfortunately, on the days of + the sittings they underwent a transformation, sat in hushed silence in + their places, laughing in servile fashion at the jests of the clever man + who presided over them, or only rising to make ridiculous propositions, + the kind of interruption which would tempt one to believe that it is not a + type only, but a whole race, that Henri Monnier has satirized in his + immortal sketch. Two or three orators in all the Chamber, the rest well + qualified to plant themselves before the fireplace of a provincial + drawing-room, after an excellent meal at the Prefect’s, and to say in + nasal voice, “The administration, gentlemen,” or “The Government of the + Emperor,” but incapable of anything further. + </p> + <p> + Ordinarily the good Nabob had been dazzled by these poses, that buzzing as + of an empty spinning-wheel which is made by would-be important people; but + to-day he found his own place, and fell in with the general note. Seated + at the centre of the green table, his portfolio open before him, his + elbows planted well forward upon it, he read the report drawn up by de + Gery, and the members of the committee looked at him in amazement. + </p> + <p> + It was a concise, clear, and rapid summary of their fortnight’s + proceedings, in which they found their ideas so well expressed that they + had great difficulty in recognising them. Then, as two or three among them + considered the report too favourable, that it passed too lightly over + certain protests that had reached the committee, the examiner addressed + the meeting with an astonishing assurance, with the prolixity, the + verbosity of his own people, demonstrated that a deputy ought not to be + held responsible beyond a certain point for the imprudence of his election + agents, that no election, otherwise, would bear a minute examination, and + since in reality it was his own cause that he was pleading, he brought to + the task a conviction, an irresistible enthusiasm, taking care to let out + now and then one of those long, dull substantives with a thousand feet, + such as the committee loved. + </p> + <p> + The others listened to him thoughtfully, communicating their sentiments to + each other by nods of the head, making flourishes, in order the better to + concentrate their attention, and drawing heads on their blotting-pads—a + proceeding which harmonized well with the schoolboyish noises in the + corridors, a murmur of lessons in course of repetition, and those droves + of sparrows which you could hear chirping under the casements in a flagged + court-yard, just like the court-yard of a school. The report having been + adopted, M. Sarigue was summoned in order that he might offer some + supplementary explanations. He arrived, pale, emaciated, stuttering like a + criminal before conviction, and you would have laughed to see with what an + air of authority and protection Jansoulet encouraged and reassured him. + “Calm yourself, my dear colleague.” But the members of Committee No. 8 did + not laugh. They were all, or nearly all, Sarigues in their way, two or + three of them being absolutely broken down, stricken by partial paralysis. + So much assurance, such great eloquence, had moved them to enthusiasm. + </p> + <p> + When Jansoulet issued from the legislative assembly, reconducted to his + carriage by his grateful colleague, it was about six o’clock. The splendid + weather—a beautiful sunset over the Seine, which lay stretching away + like molten gold on the Trocadero side—was a temptation to a walk + for this robust plebeian, on whom it was imposed by the conventions that + he should ride in a carriage and wear gloves, but who escaped such + encumbrances as often as he possibly could. He dismissed his servants, + and, with his portfolio under his arm, set forth across the Pont de la + Concorde. + </p> + <p> + Since the first of May he had not experienced such a sense of well-being. + With rolling gait, hat a little to the back of his head, in the position + in which he had seen it worn by overworked politicians harassed by + pressure of business, allowing all the laborious fever of their brain to + evaporate in the coolness of the air, as a factory discharges its steam + into the gutter at the end of a day’s work, he moved forward among other + figures like his own, evidently coming too from that colonnaded temple + which faces the Madeleine above the fountains of the <i>Place</i>. As they + passed, people turned to look after them, saying, “Those are deputies.” + And Jansoulet felt the delight of a child, a plebeian joy, compounded of + ignorance and naive vanity. + </p> + <p> + “Ask for the <i>Messenger</i>, evening edition.” + </p> + <p> + The words came from a newspaper kiosk at the corner of the bridge, full at + that hour of fresh printed sheets in heaps, which two women were quickly + folding, and which smelt of the damp press—late news, the success of + the day or its scandal. + </p> + <p> + Nearly all the deputies bought a copy as they passed, and glanced over it + quickly in the hope of finding their name. Jansoulet, for his part, feared + to see his in it and did not stop. Then suddenly he reflected: “Must not a + public man be above these weaknesses? I am strong enough now to read + everything.” He retraced his steps and took a newspaper like his + colleagues. He opened it, very calmly, right at the place usually occupied + by Moessard’s articles. As it happened, there was one. Still the same + title: “<i>Chinoiseries</i>,” and an <i>M.</i> for signature. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! ah!” said the public man, firm and cold as marble, with a fine smile + of disdain. Mora’s lesson still rung in his ears, and, had he forgotten + it, the air from <i>Norma</i> which was being slowly played in little + ironical notes not far off would have sufficed to recall it to him. Only, + after all calculations have been made amid the fleeting happenings of our + existence, there is always the unforeseen to be reckoned with; and that is + how it came that the poor Nabob suddenly felt a wave of blood blind him, a + cry of rage strangle itself in the sudden contraction of his throat. This + time his mother, his old Frances, had been dragged into the infamous joke + of the “Bateau de fleurs.” How well he aimed his blows, this Moessard, how + well he knew the really sensitive spots in that heart, so frankly exposed! + </p> + <p> + “Be quiet, Jansoulet; be quiet.” + </p> + <p> + It was in vain that he repeated the words to himself again and again: + anger, a wild anger, that intoxication of the blood that demands blood, + took possession of him. His first impulse was to hail a cab, that he might + escape from the irritating street, free his body from the preoccupation of + walking and maintaining a physical composure—to hail a cab as for a + wounded man. But the carriages which thronged the square at that hour of + general home-going were victorias, landaus, private broughams, hundreds of + them, passing down from the lurid splendour of the Arc de Triomphe towards + the violet shadows of the Tuileries, rushing, it seemed, one over another, + in the sloping perspective of the avenue, down to the great square where + the motionless statues, with their circular crowns on their brows, watched + them as they separated towards the Faubourg Saint-Germain, the Rue Royale + and the Rue de Rivoli. + </p> + <p> + Jansoulet, his newspaper in his hand, traversed this tumult without giving + it a thought, carried by force of habit towards the club where he went + every day for his game of cards from six to seven. A public man, he was + that still; but excited, speaking aloud, muttering oaths and threats in a + voice that had suddenly grown tender again at the memory of the dear old + woman. To have dragged her into that—her also! Oh, if she should + read it, if she should understand! What punishment could he invent for + such an infamy? He had reached the Rue Royale, up which were disappearing + with the speed of horses that knew they were going home and with glancings + of shining axles, visions of veiled women, heads of fair-haired children, + equipages of all kinds returning from the Bois, depositing a little + genuine earth upon the Paris pavement, and bringing odours of spring + mingled with the scent of <i>poudre de riz</i>. + </p> + <p> + Opposite the Ministry of Marine, a very high phaeton on light wheels, + rather like a great spider, its body represented by the little groom + hanging on to the box and the two persons occupying the front seat, just + missed a collision with the curb as it turned the corner. + </p> + <p> + The Nabob raised his head and stifled a cry. + </p> + <p> + Beside a painted woman, with red hair and wearing a tiny hat with wide + strings, who, perched on her leathern cushion, sat leaning stiffly + forward, hands, eyes, her whole factitious person intent on driving the + horse, there sat, pink and made-up also, grown fat with the same vices, + Moessard, the handsome Moessard—the harlot and the journalist; and + of the two, it was not the woman who had sold herself the most. High above + those women reclining in their open carriages, those men opposite them + half buried beneath the flounces of their gowns, all those poses of + fatigue and weariness which the overfed exhibit in public as in contempt + of pleasure and riches, they lorded it insolently, she very proud to be + seen driving with the lover of the Queen, and he without the least shame + in sitting beside a creature who hooked men in the drives of the Bois with + the lash of her whip, removed on her high-perched seat from all fear of + the salutary raids of the police. Perhaps, in order to whet the appetite + of his royal mistress, he chose to parade beneath her windows in company + of Suzanne Bloch, known as Suze the Red. + </p> + <p> + “Hep! hep, then!” + </p> + <p> + The horse, a high trotter with slim legs, just such a horse as a <i>cocotte</i> + would care to own, recovered from its swerve and resumed its proper place + with dancing steps, graceful pawings executed on the same spot without + advancing. Jansoulet let fall his portfolio, and as though he had dropped + with it all his gravity, his prestige as a public man, he made a terrible + spring, and dashed to the bit of the animal, which he held firm with his + strong, hairy hands. + </p> + <p> + A carriage forcibly stopped in the Rue Royale, and in broad daylight—only + this Tartar would have dared such a stroke as that! + </p> + <p> + “Get down!” said he to Moessard, whose face had turned green and yellow + when he saw him. “Get down immediately!” + </p> + <p> + “Will you let go my horse, you bloated idiot! Whip up Suzanne; it is the + Nabob.” + </p> + <p> + She tried to gather up the reins, but the animal, held firmly, reared so + sharply that a little more and like a sling the fragile vehicle would have + sent everybody in it flying far away. At this, furious with one of those + plebeian rages which in women of her kind shatter all the veneer of their + luxury, she dealt the Nabob two stinging lashes with her whip, which left + little trace on his tanned and hardened face, but which brought there a + ferocious expression, accentuated by the short nose which had turned white + and was slit at the end like that of a sporting terrier. + </p> + <p> + “Come down, or, by God, I will upset the whole thing!” + </p> + <p> + Amid an eddy of carriages arrested by the block in the traffic, or that + passed slowly round the obstacle, with thousands of curious eyes, amid + cries of coachmen and clinking of bits, two wrists of iron shook the + entire vehicle. + </p> + <p> + “Jump—but jump, I tell you! Don’t you see he will have us over? What + a grip!” + </p> + <p> + And the woman looked at the Hercules with interest. + </p> + <p> + Hardly had Moessard set foot to the ground, and before he could take + refuge on the pavement, whither the black military caps of policemen could + be seen hastening, Jansoulet threw himself upon him, lifted him by the + back of the neck like a rabbit, and, careless of his protestations and his + terrified stammerings: + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes, I will give you satisfaction, you blackguard! But, first, I + intend to do to you what is done to dirty beasts to prevent them from + repeating the same offence.” + </p> + <p> + And roughly he set to work rubbing his nose and face all over with his + newspaper, which he had rolled into a ball, stifling him, blinding him + with it, and making scratches from which the blood trickled over his skin. + The man was dragged from his hands, crimson, suffocated. A little more and + he would have killed him. + </p> + <p> + The struggle over, pulling down his sleeves, adjusting his crumpled linen, + picking up his portfolio out of which the papers of the Sarigue election + were flying scattered even to the gutter, the Nabob answered the policemen + who were asking him for his name in order to draw up a summons: + </p> + <p> + “Bernard Jansoulet, Deputy for Corsica.” + </p> + <p> + A public man! + </p> + <p> + Only then did he remember that he was one. Who would have suspected it, + seeing him breathless and bare-headed, like a porter after a street fight, + under the eager, coldly mocking glances of the crowd? + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0020" id="link2H_4_0020"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE APPARITION + </h2> + <p> + If you want simple and sincere feeling, if you would see overflowing + affection, tenderness, laughter—the laughter born of great happiness + which, at a tiny movement of the lips, is brought to the verge of tears—and + the beautiful wild joy of youth illumined by bright eyes transparent to + the very depths of the souls behind them—all these things you may + find this Sunday morning in a house that you know of, a new house, down + yonder, right at the end of the old faubourg. The glass door on the ground + floor shines more brightly than usual. More gaily than ever dance the + letters over the door, and from the open windows comes the sound of glad + cries, flowing from a stream of happiness. + </p> + <p> + “Accepted! it is accepted! Oh, what good luck! Henriette, Elise, do come + here! M. Maranne’s play is accepted!” + </p> + <p> + Andre heard the news yesterday. Cardailhac, the manager of the <i>Nouveautes</i>, + sent for him to inform him that his play was to be produced immediately—that + it would be put on next month. They passed the evening discussing scenic + arrangements and the distribution of parts; and, as it was too late to + knock at his neighbour’s door when he got home from the theatre, the happy + author waited for the morning in feverish impatience, and then, as soon as + he heard people stirring below and the shutters open with a click against + the house-front, he made haste to go down to announce the good news to his + friends. Just now they are all assembled together, the young ladies in + pretty <i>deshabille</i>, their hair hastily twisted up, and M. Joyeuse, + whom the announcement had surprised in the midst of shaving, presenting + under his embroidered night-cap a strange face divided into two parts, one + side shaved, the other not. But Andre Maranne is the most excited, for you + know what the acceptance of <i>Revolt</i> means for him; what was agreed + between them and Bonne Maman. The poor fellow looks at her as if to find + an encouragement in her eyes; and the rather mischievous, kind eyes seem + to say, “Make the experiment, in any case. What is the risk?” To give + himself courage he looks also at Mlle. Elise, pretty as a flower, with her + long eyelashes drooped. At last, making up his mind: + </p> + <p> + “M. Joyeuse,” said he thickly, “I have a very serious communication to + make to you.” + </p> + <p> + M. Joyeuse expresses astonishment. + </p> + <p> + “A communication? Ah, <i>mon Dieu</i>, you alarm me!” + </p> + <p> + And lowering his voice: + </p> + <p> + “Are the girls in the way?” + </p> + <p> + “No. Bonne Maman knows what I mean. Mlle. Elise also must have some + suspicion of it. It is only the children.” + </p> + <p> + Mlle. Henriette and her sister are asked to retire, which they immediately + do, the one with a dignified and annoyed air, like a true daughter of the + Saint-Amands, the other, the young Chinese Yaia, hardly hiding a wild + desire to laugh. + </p> + <p> + Thereupon a great silence; after which, the lover begins his little story. + </p> + <p> + I quite believe that Mlle. Elise has some suspicion in her mind, for as + soon as their young neighbour spoke of a communication, she drew her <i>Ansart + et Rendu</i> from her pocket and plunged precipitately into the adventures + of somebody surnamed the Hutin, thrilling reading which makes the book + tremble in her hands. There is reason for trembling, certainly, before the + bewilderment, the indignant stupefaction into which M. Joyeuse receives + this request for his daughter’s hand. + </p> + <p> + “Is it possible? How has it happened? What an extraordinary event! Who + could ever have suspected such a thing?” + </p> + <p> + And suddenly the good old man burst into a great roar of laughter. Well, + no, it is not true. He had heard of the affair; knew about it, a long time + ago. + </p> + <p> + Her father knew all about it! Bonne Maman had betrayed them then! And + before the reproachful glances cast in her direction, the culprit comes + forward smiling: + </p> + <p> + “Yes, my dears, it is I. The secret was too much for me. I found I could + not keep it to myself alone. And then, father is so kind—one cannot + hide anything from him.” + </p> + <p> + As she says this she throws her arms round the little man’s neck; but + there is room enough for two, and when Mlle. Elise in her turn takes + refuge there, there is still an affectionate, fatherly hand stretched out + towards him whom M. Joyeuse considers thenceforward as his son. Silent + embraces, long looks meeting each other full of emotion, blessed moments + that one would like to hold forever by the fragile tips of their wings. + There is chat, and gentle laughter when certain details are recalled. M. + Joyeuse tells how the secret was revealed to him in the first instance by + tapping spirits, one day when he was alone in Andre’s apartment. “How is + business going, M. Maranne?” the spirits had inquired, and he himself had + replied in Maranne’s absence: “Fairly well, for the season, Sir Spirit.” + The little man repeats, “Fairly well for the season,” in a mischievous + way, while Mlle. Elise, quite confused at the thought that it was with her + father that she talked that day, disappears under her fair curls. + </p> + <p> + After the first stress of emotion they talk more seriously. It is certain + that Mme. Joyeuse, <i>nee</i> de Saint-Amand, would never have consented + to this marriage. Andre Maranne is not rich, still less noble; but the old + accountant, luckily, has not the same ideas of grandeur that his wife + possessed. They love each other; they are young, healthy, and good-looking—qualities + that in themselves constitute fine dowries, without involving any heavy + registration fees at the notary’s. The new household will be installed on + the floor above. The photography will be continued, unless <i>Revolt</i> + should produce enormous receipts. (The Visionary may be trusted to see to + that.) In any case, the father will still remain near them; he has a good + place at his stockbroker’s office, some expert business in the courts; + provided that the little ship continue to sail in deep enough water, all + will go well, with the aid of wave, wind, and star. + </p> + <p> + Only one question preoccupies M. Joyeuse: “Will Andre’s parents consent to + this marriage? How will Dr. Jenkins, so rich, so celebrated, take it?” + </p> + <p> + “Let us not speak of that man,” said Andre, turning pale; “he is a wretch + to whom I owe nothing—who is nothing to me.” + </p> + <p> + He stops, embarrassed by this explosion of anger, which he was unable to + restrain and cannot explain, and goes on more gently: + </p> + <p> + “My mother, who comes to see me sometimes in spite of the prohibition laid + upon her, was the first to be told of our plans. She already loves Mlle. + Elise as her daughter. You will see, mademoiselle, how good she is, and + how beautiful and charming. What a misfortune that she belongs to such a + wicked man, who tyrannizes over her, and tortures her even to the point of + forbidding her to utter her son’s name.” + </p> + <p> + Poor Maranne heaves a sign that speaks volumes on the great grief which he + hides in the depths of his heart. But what sadness would not have been + vanquished in presence of that dear face lighted up with its fair curls + and the radiant perspective of the future? These serious questions having + been settled, they are able to open the door and recall the two exiles. In + order to avoid filling their little heads with thoughts above their age, + it has been agreed to say nothing about the prodigious event, to tell them + nothing except that they have all to make haste and dress, breakfast still + more quickly, so as to be able to spend the afternoon in the Bois, where + Maranne will read his play to them, before they go on to Suresnes to have + dinner at Kontzen’s: a whole programme of delights in honour of the + acceptance of <i>Revolt</i>, and of another piece of good news which they + will hear later. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, really—what is it, then?” ask the two little girls, with an + innocent air. + </p> + <p> + But if you fancy they don’t know what is in the air, if you think that + when Mlle. Elise used to give three raps on the ceiling they imagined that + it was for information on business, you are more ingenuous even than <i>le + pere</i> Joyeuse. + </p> + <p> + “That’s all right—that’s all right, children; go and dress, in any + case.” + </p> + <p> + Then there begins another refrain: + </p> + <p> + “What frock must I put on, Bonne Maman—the gray?” + </p> + <p> + “Bonne Maman, there is a string off my hat.” + </p> + <p> + “Bonne Maman, my child, have I no more starched cravats left?” + </p> + <p> + For ten minutes the charming grandmother is besieged with questions and + entreaties. Every one needs her help in some way; it is she who had the + keys of everything, she who gives out the pretty, white, fine goffered + linen, the embroidered handkerchiefs, the best gloves, all the dainty + things which, taken out from drawers and wardrobes, spread over the bed, + fill a house with a bright Sunday gaiety. + </p> + <p> + The workers, the people with tasks to fulfil, alone know that delight + which returns each week consecrated by the customs of a nation. For these + prisoners of the week, the almanac with its closed prison-like gratings + opens at regular intervals into luminous spaces, with breaths of + refreshing air. It is Sunday, the day that seems so long to fashionable + folk, to the Parisians of the boulevard whose habits it disturbs, so + gloomy to people far from their homes and relatives, that constitutes for + a multitude of human beings the only recompense, the one aim of the + desperate efforts of six days of toil. Neither rain nor hail, nothing + makes any difference, nothing will prevent them from going out, from + closing behind them the door of the deserted workshop, of the stuffy + little lodging. But when the springtime is come, when the May sunshine + glitters on it as this morning, and it can deck itself out in gay colours, + then indeed Sunday is the holiday of holidays. + </p> + <p> + If one would know it well, it must be seen especially in the working + quarters of the town, in those gloomy streets which it lights up and + enlarges by closing the shops, keeping in their sheds the heavy drays and + trucks, leaving the space free for wandering bands of children washed and + in their Sunday clothes, and for games of battledore and shuttlecock + played amid the great circlings of the swallows beneath some porch of old + Paris. It must be seen in the densely populated, feverishly toiling + suburbs, where, as soon as morning is come, you may feel it hovering, + resposeful and sweet, in the silence of the factories, passing with the + ringing of church-bells and that sharp whistle of the railways, and + filling the horizon, all around the outskirts of the city, with an immense + song, as it were, of departure and of deliverance. Then one understands it + and loves it. + </p> + <p> + O Sunday of Paris, Sunday of the toilers and the humble, often have I + cursed thee without reason, I have poured whole streams of abusive ink + over thy noisy and extravagant joys, over the dust of railway stations + filled by thy uproar and the maddening omnibuses that thou takest by + assault, over thy tavern songs bawled everywhere from carts adorned with + green and pink dresses, on thy barrel-organs grinding out their tunes + beneath the balconies of deserted court-yards; but to-day, abjuring my + errors, I exalt thee, and I bless thee for all the joy and relief thou + givest to courageous and honest labour, for the laughter of the children + who greet thee with acclamation, the pride of mothers happy to dress their + little ones in their best clothes in thy honour, for the dignity thou dost + preserve in the homes of the poorest, the glorious raiment set aside for + thee at the bottom of the old shaky chest of drawers; I bless thee + especially by reason of all the happiness thou hast brought that morning + to the great new house in the old faubourg. + </p> + <p> + Toilettes having been completed, the <i>dejeuner</i> finished, taken on + the thumb, as they say—and you can imagine what quantity these young + ladies’ thumbs would carry—they came to put on their hats before the + mirror in the drawing-room. Bonne Maman threw around her supervising + glance, inserted a pin here, retied a ribbon there, straightened her + father’s cravat; but while all this little world was stamping with + impatience, beckoned out of doors by the beauty of the day, there came a + ring at the bell, echoing through the apartment and disturbing their gay + proceedings. + </p> + <p> + “Suppose we don’t open the door?” propose the children. + </p> + <p> + And what a relief, with a cry of delight, they see their friend Paul come + in! + </p> + <p> + “Quick! quick! Come and let us tell you the good news.” + </p> + <p> + He knew well, before any of them, that the play had been accepted. He had + had a good deal of trouble to get it read by Cardailhac, who, the moment + he saw its “short lines,” as he called verse, wished to send the + manuscript to the Levantine and her <i>masseur</i>, as he was wont to do + in the case of all beginners in the writing of drama. But Paul was careful + not to refer to his own intervention. As for the other event, the one of + which nothing was said, on account of the children, he guessed it easily + by the trembling greeting of Maranne, whose fair mane was standing + straight up over his forehead by reason of the poet’s two hands having + been pushed through it so many times, a thing he always did in his moments + of joy, by the slightly embarrassed demeanour of Elise, by the triumphant + airs of M. Joyeuse, who was standing very erect in his new summer clothes, + with all the happiness of his children written on his face. + </p> + <p> + Bonne Maman alone preserved her usual peaceful air; but one noticed, in + the eager alacrity with which she forestalled her sister’s wants, a + certain attention still more tender than before, an anxiety to make her + look pretty. And it was delicious to watch the girl of twenty as she + busied herself about the adornment of others, without envy, without + regret, with something of the gentle renunciation of a mother welcoming + the young love of her daughter in memory of a happiness gone by. Paul saw + this; he was the only one who did see it; but while admiring Aline, he + asked himself sadly if in that maternal heart there would ever be place + for other affections, for preoccupations outside the tranquil and bright + circle wherein Bonne Maman presided so prettily over the evening work. + </p> + <p> + Love is, as one knows, a poor blind creature, deprived of hearing and + speech, and only led by presentiments, divinations, the nervous faculties + of a sick man. It is pitiable indeed to see him wandering, feeling his + way, constantly making false steps, passing his hands over the supports by + which he guides himself with the distrustful awkwardness of the infirm. At + the very moment when Paul was doubting Aline’s sensibility, in announcing + to his friends that he was about to start on a journey which would occupy + several days, perhaps several weeks, did not remark the girl’s sudden + paleness, did not hear the distressed cry that escaped her lips: + </p> + <p> + “You are going away?” + </p> + <p> + He was going away, going to Tunis, very much troubled at leaving his poor + Nabob in the midst of the pack of furious wolves that surrounded him. + Mora’s protection, however, gave him some reassurance; and then, the + journey in question was absolutely necessary. + </p> + <p> + “And the Territorial?” asked the old accountant, ever returning to the + subject in his mind. “How are things standing there? I see Jansoulet’s + name still at the head of the board. You cannot get him out, then, from + that Ali-Baba’s cave? Take care—take care!” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, I know all about that, M. Joyeuse. But, to leave it with honour, + money is needed, much money, a fresh sacrifice of two or three millions, + and we have not got them. That is exactly the reason why I am going to + Tunis to try to wrest from the rapacity of the Bey a slice of that great + fortune which he is retaining in his possession so unjustly. At present I + have still some chance of succeeding, while later on, perhaps—” + </p> + <p> + “Go, then, and make haste, my dear lad, and if you return, as I wish you + may, with a heavy bag, see that you deal first of all with the Paganetti + gang. Remember that one shareholder less patient than the rest has the + power to smash the whole thing up, to demand an inquiry; and you know what + the inquiry would reveal. Now I come to think of it,” added M. Joyeuse, + whose brow had contracted a frown, “I am even surprised that Hemerlingue, + in his hatred for you, has not secretly brought up a few shares.” + </p> + <p> + He was interrupted by the chorus of imprecations which the name of + Hemerlingue raised from all the young people, who detested the fat banker + for the injury he had done their father, and for the ill-will he bore that + good Nabob, who was adored in the house through Paul de Gery. + </p> + <p> + “Hemerlingue, the heartless monster! Wretch! That wicked man!” + </p> + <p> + But amid all these exclamations, the Visionary was following up his idea + of the fat baron becoming a shareholder in the Territorial for the purpose + of dragging his enemy into the courts. And you may imagine the + stupefaction of Andre Maranne, a complete stranger to the whole affair, + when he saw M. Joyeuse turn to him, and, with face purple and swollen with + rage, point his finger at him, with these terrible words: + </p> + <p> + “The greatest rascal, after all, in this affair, is you, sir!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, papa, papa! what are you saying?” + </p> + <p> + “Eh, what? Ah, forgive me, my dear Andre. I was fancying myself in the + examining magistrate’s private room, face to face with that rogue. It is + my confounded brain that is always running away with me.” + </p> + <p> + All broke into uproarious laughter, which escaped into the outer air + through the open windows, and went to mingle with the thousand noises of + moving vehicles and people in their Sunday clothes going up the Avenue des + Ternes. The author of <i>Revolt</i> took advantage of the diversion to ask + whether they were not soon going to start. It was late—the good + places would be taken in the Bois. + </p> + <p> + “To the Bois de Boulogne, on Sunday!” exclaimed Paul de Gery. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, our Bois is not yours,” replied Aline with a smile. “Come with us, + and you will see.” + </p> + <p> + Did it ever happen to you, in the course of a solitary and contemplative + walk, to lie down on your face in the undergrowth of a forest, amid that + vegetation which springs up, various and manifold, through the fallen + autumn leaves, and allow your eyes to wander along the level of the ground + before you? Little by little the sense of height is lost, the interwoven + branches of the oaks above your head form an inaccessible sky, and you + behold a new forest extending beneath the other, opening its deep avenues + filled by a green and mysterious light, and formed of tiny shrubs or root + fibres taking the appearance of the stems of sugar-canes, of severely + graceful palm-trees, of delicate cups containing a drop of water, of + many-branched candlesticks bearing little yellow lights which the wind + blows on as it passes. And the miraculous thing is, that beneath these + light shadows live minute plants and thousand of insects whose existence, + observed from so near at hand, is a revelation to you of all the + mysteries. An ant, bending like a wood-cutter under his burden, drags + after it a splinter of bark bigger than itself; a beetle makes its way + along a blade of grass thrown like a bridge from one stem to another; + while beneath a lofty bracken standing isolated in the middle of a patch + of velvety moss, a little blue or red insect waits, with antennae at + attention, for another little insect on its way through some desert path + over there to arrive at the trysting-place beneath the giant tree. It is a + small forest beneath a great one, too near the soil to be noticed by its + big neighbours, too humble, too hidden to be reached by its great + orchestra of song and storm. + </p> + <p> + A similar revelation awaits in the Bois de Boulogne. Behind those sanded + drives, watered and clean, whereon files of carriage-wheels moving slowly + round the lake trace all day long a worn and mechanical furrow, behind + that admirably set scene of trimmed green hedges, of captive water, of + flowery rocks, the true Bois, a wild wood with perennial undergrowth, + grows and flourishes, forming impenetrable recesses traversed by narrow + paths and bubbling springs. + </p> + <p> + This is the Bois of the children, the Bois of the humble, the little + forest beneath the great one. And Paul, who knew only the long avenues of + the aristocratic Parisian promenades, the sparkling lake perceived from + the depths of a carriage or from the top of a coach in a drive back from + Longchamps, was astonished to see the deliciously sheltered nook to which + his friends had led him. It was on the banks of a pond lying like a mirror + under willow-trees, covered with water-lilies, with here and there large + white shimmering spaces where sunbeams fell and lay on the bright surface. + </p> + <p> + On the sloping bank, sheltered by the boughs of trees where the leaves + were already thick, they sat down to listen to the reading of the play, + and the pretty, attentive faces, the skirts lying puffed out over the + grass, made one think of some Decameron, more innocent and chaste, in a + peaceful atmosphere. To complete this pleasant country scene, two + windmill-sails seen through an opening in the branches were revolving over + in the direction of Suresnes, while of the dazzling and luxurious vision + to be met at every cross-roads in the Bois there reached them only a + confused and perpetual murmur, which one ended by ceasing to notice. The + poet’s voice alone rose in the silence, the verses fell on the air + tremblingly, repeated below the breath by other moved lips, and stifled + sounds of approbation greeted them, with shudders at the tragic passages. + Bonne Maman was even seen to wipe away a big tear. That comes, you see, + from having no embroidery in one’s hand! + </p> + <p> + His first work! That was what the <i>Revolt</i> was for Andre, that first + work always too exuberant and ornate, into which the author throws, to + begin with, whole arrears of ideas and opinions, pent up like the waters + of a river-lock; that first work which is often the richest if not the + best of its writer’s productions. As for the fate that awaited it, no one + could predict it; and the uncertainty that hovered over the reading of the + drama added to its own emotion that of each auditor, the hopes, all + arrayed in white, of Mlle. Elise, the fantastic hallucinations of M. + Joyeuse, and the more positive desires of Aline as she installed in + advance the modest fortune of her sister in the nest of an artist’s + household, beaten by the winds but envied by the crowd. + </p> + <p> + Ah, if one of those idle people, taking a turn for the hundredth time + round the lake, overwhelmed by the monotony of his habitual promenade, had + come and parted the branches, how surprised he would have been at this + picture! But would he ever have suspected how much passion, how many + dreams, what poetry and hope there could be contained in that little green + corner, hardly larger than the shadow a fern throws on the moss? + </p> + <p> + “You were right; I did not know the Bois,” said Paul in a low voice to + Aline, who was leaning on his arm. + </p> + <p> + They were following a narrow path overarched by the boughs of trees, and + as they talked were moving forward at a quick pace, well in advance of the + others. It was not, however, <i>pere</i> Kontzen’s terrace nor his + appetizing fried dishes that drew them on. No; the beautiful lines which + they had just heard had carried them away, lifting them to great heights, + and they had not yet come down to earth again. They walked straight on + towards the ever-retreating end of the road, which opened out at its + extremity into a luminous glory, a mass of sunbeams, as if all the + sunshine of that beautiful day lay waiting for them where it had fallen on + the outskirts of the wood. Never had Paul felt so happy. That light arm + that lay on his arm, that child’s step by which his own was guided, these + alone would have made life sweet and pleasant to him, no less than this + walk over the mossy turf of a green path. He would have told the girl so, + simply, as he felt it, had he not feared to alarm that confidence which + Aline placed in him, no doubt because of the sentiments which she knew he + possessed for another woman, and which seemed to hold at a distance from + them every thought of love. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly, right before them, against the bright background, a group of + persons riding on horseback came in sight, at first vague and indistinct, + then appearing as a man and a woman, handsomely mounted, and entered the + mysterious path among the bars of gold, the leafy shadows, the thousand + dots of light with which the ground was strewn, and which, displaced by + their progress as they cantered along, rose and covered them with flowery + patterns from the chests of the horses to the blue veil of the lady rider. + They came along slowly, capriciously, and the two young people, who had + drawn back into the copse, could see pass close by them, with a clinking + of bits proudly shaken and white with foam as though after a furious + gallop, two splendid animals carrying a pair of human beings brought very + near together by the narrowing of the path; he, supporting with one arm + the supple figure moulded in a dark cloth habit; she, with a hand resting + on the shoulder of her cavalier and her small head seen in retreating + profile beneath the half-dropped tulle of her veil, resting on it + tenderly. This embrace, half disturbed by the impatience of the horses, + that kiss on which their reins became confused, that passion which stalked + in broad day through the Bois with so great a contempt for public opinion, + would have been enough to betray the duke and Felicia, if the haughty and + charming mein of the lady and the aristocratic ease of her companion, his + pallor slightly tinged with colour as the result of his ride and of + Jenkins’s miraculous pearls, had not already betrayed them. + </p> + <p> + It is not an extraordinary thing to meet Mora in the Bois on a Sunday. + Like his master, he loved to show himself to the Parisians, to advertise + his popularity with all sections of the public; and then the duchess never + accompanied him on that day, and he could make a halt quite at his ease in + that little villa of Saint-James, known to all Paris, whose red towers, + outlined among the trees schoolboys used to point out to each other in + whispers. But only a mad woman, a daring affronter of society like this + Felicia, could have dreamt of advertising herself like this, with the loss + of her reputation forever. A sound of hoofs dying away in the distance, of + shrubs brushed in passing; a few plants that had been pressed down and + were straightening themselves again; branches pushed out of the way + resuming their places—that was all that remained of the apparition. + </p> + <p> + “You saw?” said Paul; speaking first. + </p> + <p> + She had seen, and she had understood, notwithstanding the candour of her + innocence, for a blush spread over her features, one of those feelings of + shame experienced for the faults of those we love. + </p> + <p> + “Poor Felicia!” she said in a low voice, pitying not only the unhappy + woman who had just passed them, but also him whom this defection must have + smitten to the very heart. The truth is that Paul de Gery had felt no + surprise at this meeting, which justified previous suspicions and the + instinctive aversion which he had felt for Felicia at their dinner some + days before. But he found it pleasant to be pitied by Aline, to feel the + compassion in that voice becoming more tender, in that arm leaning upon + his. Like children who pretend to be ill for the sake of the pleasure of + being fondled by their mother, he allowed his consoler to strive to + appease his grief, speaking to him of his brothers, of the Nabob, and of + his forthcoming trip to Tunis—a fine country, they said. “You must + write to us often, and long letters about the interesting things on the + journey, the place you stay in. For one can see those who are far away + better when one imagines the kind of place they are inhabiting.” + </p> + <p> + So talking, they reached the end of the bowered path terminating in an + immense open glade through which there moved the tumult of the Bois, + carriages and riders on horseback alternating with each other, and the + crowd at that distance seeming to be tramping through a flaky dust which + blended it into a single confused herd. Paul slackened his pace, + emboldened by this last minute of solitude. + </p> + <p> + “Do you know what I am thinking of?” he said, taking Aline’s hand. “I am + thinking that it would be a pleasure to be unhappy so as to be comforted + by you. But however precious your pity may be to me, I cannot allow you to + waste your compassion on an imaginary pain. No, my heart is not broken, + but more alive, on the contrary, and stronger. And if I were to tell you + what miracle it is that has preserved it, what talisman—” + </p> + <p> + He held out before her eyes a little oval frame in which was set a simple + profile, a pencil outline wherein she recognised herself, surprised to see + herself so pretty, reflected, as it were, in the magic mirror of Love. + Tears came into her eyes without her knowing the reason, an open spring + whose stream beat within her chaste breast. He continued: + </p> + <p> + “This portrait belongs to me. It was drawn for me. And yet, at the moment + of starting on this journey I have a scruple. I do not wish to have it + except from yourself. Take it, then, and if you find a worthier friend, + some one who loves you with a love deeper and more loyal than mine, I am + willing that you should give it to him.” + </p> + <p> + She had regained her composure, and looking de Gery full in the face with + a serious tenderness, she said: + </p> + <p> + “If I listened only to my heart, I should feel no hesitation about my + reply: for, if you love me as you say, I am sure that I love you too. But + I am not free; I am not alone in the world. Look yonder.” + </p> + <p> + She pointed to her father and her sisters, who were beckoning to them in + the distance and hastening to come up with them. + </p> + <p> + “Well, and I myself?” answered Paul quickly. “Have I not similar duties, + similar responsibilities? We are like two widowed heads of families. Will + you not love mine as much as I love yours?” + </p> + <p> + “True? is it true? You will let me stay with them? I shall be Aline for + you, and Bonne Maman for all our children? Oh! then,” exclaimed the dear + creature, beaming with joy, “there is my portrait—I give it to you! + And all my soul with it, too, and forever.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0021" id="link2H_4_0021"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE JENKINS PEARLS + </h2> + <p> + About a week after his adventure with Moessard, that new complication in + the terrible muddle of his affairs, Jansoulet, on leaving the Chamber, one + Thursday, ordered his coachman to drive him to Mora’s house. He had not + paid a visit there since the scuffle in the Rue Royale, and the idea of + finding himself in the duke’s presence gave him, through his thick skin, + something of the panic that agitates a boy on his way upstairs to see the + head-master after a fight in the schoolroom. However, the embarrassment of + this first interview had to be gone through. They said in the + committee-rooms that Le Merquier had completed his report, a masterpiece + of logic and ferocity, that it meant an invalidation, and that he was + bound to carry it with a high hand unless Mora, so powerful in the + Assembly, should himself intervene and give him his word of command. A + serious matter, and one that made the Nabob’s cheeks flush, while in the + curved mirrors of his brougham he studied his appearance, his courtier’s + smiles, trying to think out a way of effecting a brilliant entry, one of + those strokes of good-natured effrontery which had brought him fortune + with Ahmed, and which served him likewise in his relations with the French + ambassador. All this accompanied by beatings of the heart and by those + shudders between the shoulder-blades which precede decisive actions, even + when these are settled within a gilded chariot. + </p> + <p> + When he arrived at the mansion by the river, he was much surprised to + notice that the porter on the quay, as on the days of great receptions, + was sending carriages up the Rue de Lille, in order to keep a door free + for those leaving. Rather anxious, he wondered, “What is there going on?” + Perhaps a concert given by the duchess, a charity bazaar, some festivity + from which Mora might have excluded him on account of the scandal of his + last adventure. And this anxiety was augmented still further when + Jansoulet, after having passed across the principal court-yard amid a din + of slamming doors and a dull and continuous rumble of wheels over the + sand, found himself—after ascending the steps—in the immense + entrance-hall filled by a crowd which did not extend beyond any of the + doors leading to the rooms; centring its anxious going and coming around + the porter’s table, where all the famous names of fashionable Paris were + being inscribed. It seemed as though a disastrous gust of wind had gone + through the house, carrying off a little of its calm, and allowing + disquiet and danger to filter into its comfort. + </p> + <p> + “What a misfortune!” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! it is terrible.” + </p> + <p> + “And so suddenly!” + </p> + <p> + Such were the remarks that people were exchanging as they met. + </p> + <p> + An idea flashed into Jansoulet’s mind: + </p> + <p> + “Is the duke ill?” he inquired of a servant. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, monsieur, he is dying! He will not live through the night!” + </p> + <p> + If the roof of the palace had fallen in upon his head he would not have + been more utterly stunned. Red lights flashed before his eyes, he + tottered, and let himself drop into a seat on a velvet-covered bench + beside the great cage of monkeys. The animals, over-excited by all this + bustle, suspended by their tails, by their little long-thumbed hands, were + hanging to the bars in groups, and came, inquisitive and frightened, to + make the most ludicrous grimaces at this big, stupefied man as he sat + staring at the marble floor, repeating aloud to himself, “I am ruined! I + am ruined!” + </p> + <p> + The duke was dying. He had been seized suddenly with illness on the Sunday + after his return from the Bois. He had felt intolerable burnings in his + bowels, which passed through his whole body, searing as with a red-hot + iron, and alternating with a cold lethargy and long periods of coma. + Jenkins, summoned at once, did not say much, but ordered certain + sedatives. The next day the pains came on again with greater intensity and + followed by the same icy torpor, also more accentuated, as if life, torn + up by the roots, were departing in violent spasms. Among those around him, + none was greatly concerned. “The day after a visit to Saint-James Villa,” + was muttered in the antechamber, and Jenkins’s handsome face preserved its + serenity. He had spoken to two or three people, in the course of his + morning rounds, of the duke’s indisposition, and that so lightly that + nobody had paid much attention to the matter. + </p> + <p> + Mora himself, notwithstanding his extreme weakness, although he felt his + head absolutely blank, and, as he said, “not an idea anywhere,” was far + from suspecting the gravity of his condition. It was only on the third + day, on waking in the morning, that the sight of a tiny stream of blood, + which had trickled from his mouth over his beard and the stained pillow, + had frightened this fastidious man, who had a horror of all human ills, + especially sickness, and now saw it arrive stealthily with its pollutions, + its weaknesses, and the loss of physical self-control, the first + concession made to death. Monpavon, entering the room behind Jenkins, + surprised the anxious expression of the great seigneur faced by the + terrible truth, and at the same time was horrified by the ravages made in + a few hours upon Mora’s emaciated face, in which all the wrinkles of age, + suddenly evident, were mingled with lines of suffering, and those muscular + depressions which tell of serious internal lesions. He took Jenkins aside, + while the duke’s toilet necessaries were carried to him—a whole + apparatus of crystal and silver contrasting with the yellow pallor of the + invalid. + </p> + <p> + “Look here, Jenkins, the duke is very ill.” + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid so,” said the Irishman, in a low voice. + </p> + <p> + “But what is the matter with him?” + </p> + <p> + “What he wanted, <i>parbleu</i>!” answered the other in a fury. “One + cannot be young at his age with impunity. This intrigue will cost him + dear.” + </p> + <p> + Some evil passion was getting the better of him but he subdued it + immediately, and, puffing out his cheeks as though his head were full of + water, he sighed deeply as he pressed the old nobleman’s hands. + </p> + <p> + “Poor duke! poor duke! Ah, my friend, I am most unhappy!” + </p> + <p> + “Take care, Jenkins,” said Monpavon coldly, disengaging his hands, “you + are assuming a terrible responsibility. What! is the duke as bad as that?—ps—ps—ps—Will + you see nobody? You have arranged no consultation?” + </p> + <p> + The Irishman raised his hands as if to say, “What good can it do?” + </p> + <p> + The other insisted. It was absolutely necessary that Brisset, Jousseline, + Bouchereau, all the great physicians should be called in. + </p> + <p> + “But you will frighten him.” + </p> + <p> + De Monpavon expanded his chest, the one pride of the old broken-down + charger. + </p> + <p> + “<i>Mon Cher</i>, if you had seen Mora and me in the trenches of + Constantine—ps—ps. Never looked away. We don’t know fear. Give + notice to your colleagues. I undertake to inform him.” + </p> + <p> + The consultation took place in the evening with great privacy, the duke + having insisted on this from a singular sense of shame produced by his + illness, by that suffering which discrowned him, making him the equal of + other men. Like those African kings who hide themselves in the recesses of + their palaces to die, he would have wished that men should believe him + carried off, transfigured, become a god. Then, too, he dreaded above all + things the expressions of pity, the condolences, the compassion with which + he knew that his sick-bed would be surrounded; the tears because he + suspected them to be hypocritical, and because, if sincere, they + displeased him still more by their grimacing ugliness. + </p> + <p> + He had always detested scenes, exaggerated sentiments, everything that + could move him to emotion or disturb the harmonious equilibrium of his + life. Every one knew this, and the order was to keep away from him the + distress, the misery, which from one end of France to the other flowed + towards Mora as to one of those forest refuges lighted during the night at + which all wanderers may knock. Not that he was hard to the unfortunate; + perhaps he may have been too easily moved to the pity which he regarded as + an inferior sentiment, a weakness unworthy of the strong, and, refusing it + to others, he dreaded it for himself, for the integrity of his courage. + Nobody in the palace, then, except Monpavon and Louis the <i>valet de + chambre</i>, knew of the visit of those three personages introduced + mysteriously into the Minister of State’s apartments. The duchess herself + was ignorant of it. Separated from her husband by the barriers frequently + placed by the political and fashionable life of the great world between + married people, she believed him slightly indisposed, nervous more than + anything else; and had so little suspicion of a catastrophe that at the + very hour when the doctors were mounting the great, dimly lit staircase at + the other end of the palace, her private apartments were being lit up for + a girls’ dance, one of those <i>bals blancs</i> which the ingenuity of the + idle world had begun to make fashionable in Paris. + </p> + <p> + This consultation was like all others: solemn and sinister. Doctors no + longer wear their great periwigs of the time of Moliere, but they still + assume the same gravity of the priests of Isis, of astrologers bristling + with cabalistic formulae pronounced with sage noddings of the head, to + which, for comical effect, there is only wanting the high pointed cap of + former days. In this case the scene borrowed an imposing aspect from its + setting. In the vast bed-chamber, transformed, heightened, as it were, in + dignity by the immobility of the owner, these grave figures came forward + round the bed on which the light was concentrated, illuminating amid the + whiteness of the linen and the purple of the hangings a face worn into + hollows, pale from lips to eyes, but wrapped in serenity as in a veil, as + in a shroud. The consultants spoke in low tones, cast furtive glances as + each other, or exchanged some barbarous word, remaining impassive, without + even a frown. But this mute and reticent expression of the doctor and + magistrate, this solemnity with which science and justice hedge themselves + about to hide their frailty or ignorance, had no power to move the duke. + </p> + <p> + Sitting up in bed, he continued to talk quietly, with the upward glance of + the eye in which it seems as if thought rises before it finally takes + wing, and Monpavon coldly followed his cue, hardening himself against his + own emotion, taking from his friend a last lesson in “form”; while Louis, + in the background, stood leaning against the door leading to the duchess’s + apartment, the spectre of a silent domestic in whom detached indifference + is a duty. + </p> + <p> + The most agitated, nervous man present was Jenkins. Full of obsequious + attentions for his “illustrious colleagues,” as he called them, with his + lips pursed up, he hung round their consultation and attempted to take + part in it; but the colleagues kept him at a distance and hardly answered + him, as Fagon—the Fagon of Louis XIV—might have addressed some + empiric summoned to the royal bedside. Old Bouchereau especially had black + looks for the inventor of the Jenkins pearls. Finally, when they had + thoroughly examined and questioned their patient, they retired to + deliberate among themselves in a little room with lacquered ceilings and + walls, filled by an assortment of <i>bric-a-brac</i> the triviality of + which contrasted strangely with the importance of the discussion. + </p> + <p> + Solemn moment! Anguish of the accused awaiting the decision of his judges—life, + death, reprieve, or pardon! + </p> + <p> + With his long, white hand Mora continued to stroke his mustache with a + favourite gesture, to talk with Monpavon of the club, of the foyer of the + <i>Varietes</i>, asking news of the Chamber, how matters stood with regard + to the Nabob’s election—all this coldly, without the least + affectation. Then, tired, no doubt, or fearing lest his glance, constantly + drawn to that curtain opposite him, from behind which the sentence was to + come presently, should betray the emotion which he must have felt in the + depths of his soul, he laid his head on the pillow, closed his eyes, and + did not open them again until the return of the doctors. Still the same + cold and sinister faces, veritable physiognomies of judges having on their + lips the terrible decree of human fate, the final word which the courts + pronounce fearlessly, but which the doctors, whose science it mocks, + elude, and express in periphrases. + </p> + <p> + “Well, gentlemen, what says the faculty?” demanded the sick man. + </p> + <p> + There were sundry murmurs of hypocritical encouragement, vague + recommendations; then the three learned physicians hastened to depart, + eager to escape from the responsibility of this disaster. Monpavon rushed + after them. Jenkins remained at the bedside, overwhelmed by the cruel + truths which he had just heard during the consultation. In vain had he + laid his hand on his heart, quoted his famous motto; Bouchereau had not + spared him. It was not the first of the Irishman’s clients whom he had + seen thus suddenly collapse; but he fervently hoped that the death of Mora + would act as a salutary warning to the world of fashion, and that the + prefect of police, after this great calamity, would send the “dealer in + cantharides” to retail his drugs on the other side of the Channel. + </p> + <p> + The duke understood immediately that neither Jenkins nor Louis would tell + him the true issue of the consultation. He abstained, therefore, from any + insistence in his questionings of them, submitted to their pretended + confidence, affected even to share it, to believe the most hopeful things + they announced to him. But when Monpavon returned, he summoned him to his + bedside, and, confronted by the lie visible even beneath the make-up of + the decrepit old man, remarked: + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you know—no humbug! From you to me, truth. What do they say? I + am in a very bad way, eh?” + </p> + <p> + Monpavon prefaced his reply with a significant silence; then brutally, + cynically, for fear of breaking down as he spoke: + </p> + <p> + “Done for, my poor Augustus!” + </p> + <p> + The duke received the sentence full in the face without flinching. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” he said simply. + </p> + <p> + He pulled his mustache with a mechanical gesture, but his features + remained motionless. And immediately he made up his mind. + </p> + <p> + That the poor wretch who dies in a hospital, without home or family, + without other name than the number of his bed, that he should accept death + as a deliverance or bear it as his last trial; that the old peasant who + passes away, bent double, worn out, in his dark and smoky cellar, that he + should depart without regret, savouring in advance the taste of that fresh + earth which he has so many times dug over and over—that is + intelligible. And yet how many, even among such, cling to existence + despite all their misery! how many there are who cry, holding on to their + sordid furniture and to their rags, “I don’t want to die!” and depart with + nails broken and bleeding from that supreme wrench. But here there was + nothing of the kind. + </p> + <p> + To possess all, and to lose all. What a catastrophe! + </p> + <p> + In the first silence of that dreadful moment, while he heard the sound of + the music coming faintly from the duchess’s ball at the other end of the + palace, whatever attached this man to life, power, honour, wealth, all + that splendour must have seemed to him already far away and in an + irrevocable past. A courage of a quite exceptional temper must have been + required to bear up under such a blow without any spur of personal vanity. + No one was present save the friend, the doctor, the servant, three + intimates acquainted with all his secrets; the lights moved back, left the + bed in shadow, and the dying man might quite well have turned his face to + the wall in lamentation of his own fate without being noticed. But not an + instant of weakness, nor of useless demonstration. Without breaking a + branch of the chestnut-trees in the garden, without withering a flower on + the great staircase of the palace, his footsteps muffled on the thick pile + of the carpets, Death had opened the door of this man of power and signed + to him “Come!” And he answered simply, “I am ready.” The true exit of a + man of the world, unforeseen, rapid, and discreet. + </p> + <p> + Man of the world! Mora was nothing if not that. Passing through life + masked, gloved, breast-plated—breast-plate of white satin, such as + the masters of fence wear on great days; preserving his fighting dress + immaculate and clean; sacrificing everything to that irreproachable + exterior which with him did duty for armour; he had determined on his <i>role</i> + as statesman in the passage from the drawing-room to a wider scene, and + made, indeed, a statesman of the first rank on the strength alone of his + qualities as a man about town, the art of listening and of smiling, + knowledge of men, scepticism, and coolness. That coolness did not leave + him at the supreme moment. + </p> + <p> + With eyes fixed on the time, so short, which still remained to him—for + the dark visitor was in a hurry, and he could feel on his face the draught + from the door which he had not closed behind him—his one thought now + was to occupy the time well, to satisfy all the obligations of an end like + his, which must leave no devotion unrecompensed nor compromise any friend. + He gave a list of certain persons whom he wished to see and who were sent + for immediately, summoned the head of his cabinet, and, as Jenkins + ventured the opinion that it was a great fatigue for him, said: + </p> + <p> + “Can you guarantee that I shall wake to-morrow morning? I feel strong at + this moment; let me take advantage of it.” + </p> + <p> + Louis inquired whether the duchess should be informed. The duke, before + replying, listened to the sounds of music that reached his room through + the open windows from the little ball, sounds that seemed prolonged in the + night on an invisible bow, then answered: + </p> + <p> + “Let us wait a little. I have something to finish.” + </p> + <p> + They brought to his bedside the little lacquered table that he might + himself sort out the letters which were to be destroyed; but feeling his + strength give way, he called Monpavon. + </p> + <p> + “Burn everything,” said he to him in a faint voice; and seeing him move + towards the fireplace, where a fire was burning despite the warmth of the + season. + </p> + <p> + “No,” he added, “not here. There are too many of them. Some one might + come.” + </p> + <p> + Monpavon took up the writing-table, which was not heavy, and signed to the + <i>valet de chambre</i> to go before him with a light. But Jenkins sprang + forward: + </p> + <p> + “Stay here, Louis; the duke may want you.” + </p> + <p> + He took hold of the lamp; and moving carefully down the whole length of + the great corridor, exploring the waiting-rooms, the galleries, in which + the fireplaces proved to be filled with artificial plants and quite + emptied of ashes, they wandered like spectres in the silence and darkness + of the vast house, alive only over yonder on the right, were pleasure was + singing like a bird on a roof which is about to fall in ruins. + </p> + <p> + “There is no fire anywhere. What is to be done with all this?” they asked + each other in great embarrassment. They might have been two thieves + dragging away a chest which they did not know how to open. At last + Monpavon, out of patience, walked straight to a door, the only one which + they had not yet opened. + </p> + <p> + “<i>Ma foi</i>, so much the worse! Since we cannot burn them, we will + drown them. Hold the light, Jenkins.” + </p> + <p> + And they entered. + </p> + <p> + Where were they? Saint-Simon relating the downfall of one of those + sovereign existences, the disarray of ceremonies, of dignities, of + grandeurs, caused by death and especially by sudden death, only + Saint-Simon might have found words to tell you. With his delicate, + carefully kept hands, the Marquis de Monpavon did the pumping. The other + passed to him the letters after tearing them into small pieces, packets of + letters, on satin paper, tinted, perfumed, adorned with crests, coats of + arms, small flags with devices, covered with handwritings, fine, hurried, + scrawling, entwining, persuasive; and all those flimsy pages went whirling + one over the other in eddying streams of water which crumpled them, soiled + them, washed out their tender links before allowing them to disappear with + a gurgle down the drain. + </p> + <p> + They were love-letters and of every kind, from the note of the + adventuress, “<i>I saw you pass yesterday in the Bois, M. le Duc</i>,” to + the aristocratic reproaches of the last mistress but one, and the + complaints of ladies deserted, and the page, still fresh, of recent + confidences. Monpavon was in the secret of all these mysteries—put a + name on each of them: “That is Mme. Moor. Hallo! Mme. d’Athis!” A + confusion of coronets and initials, of caprices and old habits, sullied by + the promiscuity of this moment, all engulfed in the horrid closet by the + light of a lamp, with the noise of an intermittent gush of water, + departing into oblivion by a shameful road. Suddenly Jenkins paused in his + work of destruction. Two satin-gray letters trembled as he held them in + his fingers. + </p> + <p> + “Who is that?” asked Monpavon, noticing the unfamiliar handwriting and the + Irishman’s nervous excitement. “Ah, doctor, if you want to read them all, + we shall never have finished.” + </p> + <p> + Jenkins, his cheeks flushed, the two letters in his hand, was consumed by + a desire to carry them away, to pore over them at his ease, to martyrize + himself with delight by reading them, perhaps also to forge out of this + correspondence a weapon for himself against the imprudent woman who had + signed her name. But the rigorous correctness of the marquis made him + afraid. How could he distract his attention—get him away? The + opportunity occurred of its own accord. Among the letters, a tiny page + written in a senile and shaky hand, caught the attention of the charlatan, + who said with an ingenuous air: “Oh, oh! here is something that does not + look much like a <i>billet-doux. ‘Mon Duc, to the rescue—I am + sinking! The Court of Exchequer has once more stuck its nose into my + affairs.‘</i>” + </p> + <p> + “What are you reading there?” exclaimed Monpavon abruptly, snatching the + letter from his hands. And immediately, thanks to Mora’s negligence in + thus allowing such private letters to lie about, the terrible situation in + which he would be left by the death of his protector returned to his mind. + In his grief, he had not yet given it a thought. He told himself that in + the midst of all his preparations for his departure, the duke might quite + possibly overlook him; and, leaving Jenkins to complete the drowning of + Don Juan’s casket by himself, he returned precipitately in the direction + of the bed-chamber. Just as he was on the point of entering, the sound of + a discussion held him back behind the lowered door-curtain. It was Louis’s + voice, tearful like that of a beggar in a church-porch, trying to move the + duke to pity for his distress, and asking permission to take certain + bundles of bank-notes that lay in a drawer. Oh, how hoarse, utterly + wearied, hardly intelligible the answer, in which there could be detected + the effort of the sick man to turn over in his bed, to bring back his + vision from a far-off distance already half in sight: + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes; take them. But for God’s sake, let me sleep—let me + sleep!” + </p> + <p> + Drawers opened, closed again, a short and panting breath. Monpavon heard + no more of what was going on, and retraced his steps without entering. The + ferocious rapacity of his servant had set his pride upon its guard. + Anything rather than degradation to such a point as that. + </p> + <p> + The sleep which Mora craved for so insistently—the lethargy, to be + more accurate—lasted a whole night, and through the next morning + also, with uncertain wakings disturbed by terrible sufferings relieved + each time by soporifics. No further attempt was made to nurse him to + recovery; they tried only to soothe his last moments, to help him to slip + painlessly over that terrible last step. His eyes had opened again during + this time, but were already dimmed, fixed in the void on floating shadows, + vague forms like those a diver sees quivering in the uncertain light under + water. + </p> + <p> + In the afternoon of the Thursday, towards three o’clock, he regained + complete consciousness, and recognising Monpavon, Cardailhac, and two or + three other intimate friends, he smiled to them, and betrayed in a + sentence his only anxiety: + </p> + <p> + “What do they say about it in Paris?” + </p> + <p> + They said many things about it, different and contradictory; but very + certainly he was the only subject of conversation, and the news spread + through the town since the morning, that Mora was at his last breath, + agitated the streets, the drawing-rooms, the cafes, the workshops, revived + the question of the political situation in newspaper offices and clubs, + even in porters’ lodges and on the tops of omnibuses, in every place where + the unfolded public newspapers commented on this startling rumour of the + day. + </p> + <p> + Mora was the most brilliant incarnation of the Empire. One sees from a + distance, not the solid or insecure base of the building, but the gilded + and delicate spire, embellished, carved into hollow tracery, added for the + satisfaction of the age. Mora was what was seen in France and throughout + Europe of the Empire. If he fell, the monument would find itself bereft of + all its elegance, split as by some long and irreparable crack. And how + many lives would be dragged down by that sudden fall, how many fortunes + undermined by the weakened reverberations of the catastrophe! None so + completely as that of the big man sitting motionless downstairs, on the + bench in the monkey-house. + </p> + <p> + For the Nabob, this death was his own death, the ruin, the end of all + things. He was so deeply conscious of it that, when he entered the house, + on learning the hopeless condition of the duke, no expression of pity, no + regrets of any sort, had escaped him, only the ferocious word of human + egoism, “I am ruined!” And this word kept recurring to his lips; he + repeated it mechanically each time that he awoke suddenly afresh to all + the horror of his situation, as in those dangerous mountain storms, when a + sudden flash of lightning illumines the abyss to its depths, showing the + wounding spurs and the bushes on its sides, ready to tear and scratch the + man who should fall. + </p> + <p> + The rapid clairvoyance which accompanies cataclysms spared him no detail. + He saw the invalidation of his election almost certain, now that Mora + would no longer be there to plead his cause; then the consequences of the + defeat—bankruptcy, poverty, and still worse; for when these + incalculable riches collapse they always bury a little of a man’s honour + beneath their ruins. But how many briers, how many thorns, how many cruel + scratches and wounds before arriving at the end! In a week there would be + the Schwalbach bills—that is to say, eight hundred thousand francs—to + pay; indemnity for Moessard, who wanted a hundred thousand francs, or as + the alternative he would apply for the permission of the Chamber to + prosecute him for a misdemeanour, a suit still more sinister instituted by + the families of two little martyrs of Bethlehem against the founders of + the Society; and, on top of all, the complications of the Territorial + Bank. There was one solitary hope, the mission of Paul de Gery to the Bey, + but so vague, so chimerical, so remote! + </p> + <p> + “Ah, I am ruined! I am ruined!” + </p> + <p> + In the immense entrance-hall no one noticed his distress. The crowd of + senators, of deputies, of councillors of state, all the high officials of + the administration, came and went around him without seeing him, holding + mysterious consultations with uneasy importance near the two fireplaces of + white marble which faced one another. So many ambitions disappointed, + deceived, hurled down, met in this visit <i>in extremis</i>, that personal + anxieties dominated every other preoccupation. + </p> + <p> + The faces, strangely enough, expressed neither pity nor grief, rather a + sort of anger. All these people seemed to have a grudge against the duke + for dying, as though he had deserted them. One heard remarks of this kind: + “It is not surprising, with such a life as he has lived!” And looking out + of the high windows, these gentlemen pointed out to each other, amid the + going and coming of the equipages in the court-yard, the drawing up of + some little brougham from within which a well-gloved hand, with its lace + sleeve brushing the sash of the door, would hold out a card with a corner + turned back to the footman. + </p> + <p> + From time to time one of the <i>habitues</i> of the palace, one of those + whom the dying man had summoned to his bedside, appeared in the medley, + gave an order, then went away, leaving the scared expression of his face + reflected on twenty others. Jenkins showed himself thus for a moment, with + his cravat untied, his waistcoat unbuttoned, his cuffs crumpled, in all + the disorder of the battle in which he was engaged upstairs against a + terrible opponent. He was instantly surrounded, besieged with questions. + </p> + <p> + Certainly the monkeys flattening their short noses against the bars of + their cage, excited by the unaccustomed tumult, and very attentive to all + that passed about them as though they were occupied in making a methodical + study of human hypocrisy, had a magnificent model in the Irish physician. + His grief was superb, a splendid grief, masculine and strong, which + compressed his lips and made him pant. + </p> + <p> + “The agony has begun,” he said mournfully. “It is only a matter of hours.” + </p> + <p> + And as Jansoulet came towards him, he said to him emphatically: + </p> + <p> + “Ah, my friend, what a man! What courage! He has forgotten nobody. Only + just now he was speaking to me of you.” + </p> + <p> + “Really?” + </p> + <p> + “‘The poor Nabob,’ said he, ‘how does the affair of his election stand?’” + </p> + <p> + And that was all. The duke had added no further word. + </p> + <p> + Jansoulet bowed his head. What had he been hoping? Was it not enough that + at such a moment a man like Mora had given him a thought? He returned and + sat down on his bench, falling back into the stupor which had been + galvanized by one moment of mad hope, and remained until, without his + noticing it, the hall had become nearly deserted. He did not remark that + he was the only and last visitor left, until he heard the men-servants + talking aloud in the waning light of the evening: + </p> + <p> + “For my part, I’ve had enough of it. I shall leave service.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall stay on with the duchess.” + </p> + <p> + And these projects, these arrangements some hours in advance of death, + condemned the noble duke still more surely than the faculty. + </p> + <p> + The Nabob understood then that it was time for him to go, but, first, he + wished to inscribe his name in the visitors’ book kept by the porter. He + went up to the table, and leaned over it to see distinctly. The page was + full. A blank space was pointed out to him below a signature in a very + small, spidery hand, such as is frequently written by very fat fingers, + and when he had signed, it proved to be the name of Hemerlingue dominating + his own, crushing it, clasping it round with insidious flourish. + Superstitious, like the true Latin he was, he was struck by this omen, and + went away frightened by it. + </p> + <p> + Where should he dine? At the club? Place Vendome? To hear still more talk + of this death that obsessed him! He preferred to go somewhere by chance, + walking straight before him, like all those who are a prey to some fixed + idea which they hope to conjure away by rapid movement. The evening was + warm, the air full of sweet scents. He walked along the quays, and reached + the trees of the Cours-la-Reine, then found himself breathing that air in + which is mingled the freshness of watered roads and the odour of fine dust + so characteristic of summer evenings in Paris. At that hour all was + deserted. Here and there chandeliers were being lighted for the concerts, + blazes of gaslight flared among the green trees. A sound of glasses and + plates from a restaurant gave him the idea of going in. + </p> + <p> + The strong man was hungry despite all his troubles. He was served under a + veranda with glazed walls backed by shrubs, and facing the great porch of + the Palais de l’Industrie, where the duke, in the presence of a thousand + people, had greeted him as a deputy. The refined, aristocratic face rose + before his memory in the darkness of the sky, while he could see it also + as it lay over yonder on the funereal whiteness of the pillow; and + suddenly, as he ran his eye over the bill of fare presented to him by the + waiter, he noticed with stupefaction that it bore the date of the 20th of + May. So a month had not elapsed since the opening of the exhibition. It + seemed to him like ten years ago. Gradually, however, the warmth of the + meal cheered him. In the corridor he could hear waiters talking: + </p> + <p> + “Has anybody heard news of Mora? It appears he is very ill.” + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense! He will get over it, you will see. Men like him get all the + luck.” + </p> + <p> + And so deeply is hope implanted in the human soul, that, despite what + Jansoulet had himself seen and heard, these few words, helped by two + bottles of burgundy and a few glasses of cognac, sufficed to restore his + courage. After all, people had been known to recover from illnesses quite + as desperate. Doctors often exaggerate the ill in order to get more credit + afterward for curing it. “Suppose I called to inquire.” He made his way + back towards the house, full of illusion, trusting to that chance which + had served him so many times in his life. And indeed the aspect of the + princely abode had something about it to fortify his hope. It presented + the reassuring and tranquil appearance of ordinary evenings, from the + avenue with its lights at long intervals, majestic and deserted, to the + steps where stood waiting a huge carriage of old-fashioned shape. + </p> + <p> + In the antechamber, peaceful also, two enormous lamps were burning. A + footman slept in a corner; the porter was reading before the fireplace. He + looked at the new arrival over his spectacles, made no remark, and + Jansoulet dared ask no question. Piles of newspapers lying on the table in + their wrappers, addressed to the duke, seemed to have been thrown there as + useless. The Nabob took up one of them, opened it, and tried to read, but + quick and gliding steps, a muttered chanting, made him lift his eyes, and + he saw a white-haired and bent old man, decked out in lace as though he + had been an altar, who was praying aloud as he departed with a long + priestly stride, his ample red cassock spreading in a train over the + carpet. It was the Archbishop of Paris, accompanied by two assistants. The + vision, with its murmur as of an icy north wind, passed quickly before + Jansoulet, plunged into the great carriage and disappeared, carrying away + with it his last hope. + </p> + <p> + “Doing the right thing, <i>mon cher</i>,” remarked Monpavon, appearing + suddenly at his side. “Mora is an epicurean, brought up in the ideas of + how do you say—you know—what is it you call it? Eighteenth + century. Very bad for the masses, if a man in his position—ps—ps—ps—Ah, + he is the master who sets us all an example—ps—ps—irreproachable + manners!” + </p> + <p> + “Then, it is all over?” said Jansoulet, overwhelmed. “There is no longer + any hope?” + </p> + <p> + Monpavon signed to him to listen. A carriage rolled heavily along the + avenue on the quay. The visitors’ bell rang sharply several times in + succession. The marquis counted aloud: “One, two, three, four.” At the + fifth he rose: + </p> + <p> + “No more hope now. Here comes the other,” said he, alluding to the + Parisian superstition that a visit from the sovereign was always fatal to + dying persons. From every side the lackeys hastened up, opened the doors + wide, ranged themselves in line, while the porter, his hat cocked forward + and his staff resounding on the marble floor, announced the passage of two + august shadows, of whom Jansoulet only caught a confused glimpse behind + the liveried domestics, but whom he saw beyond a long perspective of open + doors climbing the great staircase, preceded by a footman bearing a + candelabrum. The woman ascended, erect and proud, enveloped in a black + Spanish mantilla; the man supported himself by the baluster, slower in his + movements and tired, the collar of his light overcoat turned up above a + rather bent back, which was shaken by a convulsive sob. + </p> + <p> + “Let us be off, Nabob. Nothing more to be done here,” said the old beau, + taking Jansoulet by the arm and drawing him outside. He paused on the + threshold, with raised hand, making a little gesture of farewell in the + direction of the man who lay dying upstairs. “Good-bye old fellow!” The + gesture and the tone were polite, irreproachable, but the voice trembled a + little. + </p> + <p> + The club in the Rue Royale, which was famous for its gambling parties, + rarely saw one so desperate as the gaming of that night. It commenced at + eleven o’clock and was still going on at five in the morning. Enormous + sums were scattered over the green cloth, changing hands, moved now to one + side, now to the other, heaped up, distributed, regained. Fortunes were + engulfed in this monster play, at the end of which the Nabob, who had + started it to forget his terrors in the hazards of chance, after singular + alternations and runs of luck enough to turn the hair of a beginner white, + retired with winnings amounting to five hundred thousand francs. On the + boulevard the next day they said five millions, and everybody cried out on + the scandal, especially the <i>Messenger</i>, three-quarters filled by an + article against certain adventurers tolerated in the clubs, and who cause + the ruin of the most honourable families. + </p> + <p> + Alas! what Jansoulet had won hardly represented enough to meet the first + Schwalbach bills. + </p> + <p> + During this wild play, of which Mora was, however, the involuntary cause, + and, as it were, the soul, his name was not once uttered. Neither + Cardailhac nor Jenkins put in an appearance. Monpavon had taken to his + bed, stricken more deeply than he wished it to be thought. Nobody had any + news. + </p> + <p> + “Is he dead?” Jansoulet said to himself as he left the club; and he felt a + desire to make a call to inquire before going home. It was no longer hope + that urged him, but that sort of morbid and nervous curiosity which after + a great fire leads the smitten unfortunate people, ruined and homeless, + back to the wreck of their dwellings. + </p> + <p> + Although it was still very early, and a pink mist of dawn hung in the sky, + the whole mansion stood open as if for a solemn departure. The lamps still + smoked over the fire-places, dust floated about the rooms. The Nabob + advanced amid an inexplicable solitude of desertion to the first floor, + where at last he heard a voice he knew, that of Cardailhac, who was + dictating names, and the scratching of pens over paper. The clever + stage-manager of the festivities in honour of the Bey was organizing with + the same ardour the funeral pomps of the Duc de Mora. What activity! His + excellency had died during the evening; when morning came already ten + thousand letters were being printed, and everybody in the house who could + hold a pen was busy with the writing of the addresses. Without passing + through these improvised offices, Jansoulet reached the waiting-room, + ordinarily so crowded, to-day with all its arm-chairs empty. In the + middle, on a table, lay the hat, cane, and gloves of M. le Duc, always + ready in case he should go out unexpectedly, so as to save him even the + trouble of giving an order. The objects that we always wear keep about + them something of ourselves. The curve of the hat suggested that of the + mustache; the light-coloured gloves were ready to grasp the supple and + strong Chinese cane; the total effect was one of life and energy, as if + the duke were about to appear, stretch out his hand while talking, take up + those things, and go out. + </p> + <p> + Oh, no. M. le Duc was not going out. Jansoulet had but to approach the + half-open door of the bed-chamber to see on the bed, raised three steps—always + the platform even after death—a rigid, haughty form, a motionless + and aged profile, metamorphosed by the beard’s growth of a night, quite + gray; near the sloping pillow, kneeling and burying her head in the white + drapery, was a woman, whose fair hair lay in rippled disorder, ready to + fall beneath the shears of eternal widowhood; then a priest and a nun, + gathered in this atmosphere of watch by the dead, in which are mingled the + fatigue of sleepless nights and the murmurs of prayer. + </p> + <p> + The chamber in which so many ambitions had strengthened their wings, so + many hopes and disappointments had throbbed, was wholly given over now to + the peace of passing Death. Not a sound, not a sigh. Only, notwithstanding + the early hour, away yonder, towards the Pont de la Concorde, a little + clarinet, shrill and sharp, could be heard above the rumbling of the first + vehicles; but its exasperating mockery was henceforth lost on him who lay + there asleep, showing to the terrified Nabob an image of his own destiny, + chilled, discoloured, ready for the tomb. + </p> + <p> + Others besides Jansoulet found that death-chamber lugubrious: the windows + wide open, the night and the wind entering freely from the garden, making + a strong draught; a human form on a table; the body, which had just been + embalmed; the hollow skull filled with a sponge, the brain in a basin. The + weight of this brain of a statesman was truly extraordinary. It weighed—it + weighed—the newspapers of the period mentioned the figure. But who + remembers it to-day? + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0022" id="link2H_4_0022"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE FUNERAL + </h2> + <p> + “Don’t weep, my fairy, you rob me of all my courage. Come, you will be a + great deal happier when you no longer have your terrible demon. You will + go back to Fontainebleau and look after your chickens. The ten thousand + francs from Brahim will help to get you settled down. And then, don’t be + afraid, once you are over there I shall send you money. Since this Bey + wants to have sculpture done by me, he will have to pay for it, as you may + imagine. I shall return rich, rich. Who knows? Perhaps a sultana.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you will be a sultana, but I—I shall be dead and I shall never + see you again.” And the good Crenmitz in despair huddled herself into a + corner of the cab so that she would not be seen weeping. + </p> + <p> + Felicia was leaving Paris. She was trying to escape the horrible sadness, + the sinister disgust into which Mora’s death had thrown her. What a + terrible blow for the proud girl! <i>Ennui</i>, pique, had thrown her into + this man’s arms; she had given him pride—modesty—all; and now + he had carried all away with him, leaving her tarnished for life, a + tearless widow, without mourning and without dignity. Two or three visits + to Saint-James Villa, a few evenings in the back of some box at some small + theatre, behind the curtain that shelters forbidden and shameful pleasure, + these were the only memories left to her by this liaison of a fortnight, + this loveless intrigue wherein her pride had not found even the + satisfaction of the commotion caused by a big scandal. The useless and + indelible stain, the stupid fall of a woman who does not know how to walk + and who is embarrassed in her rising by the ironical pity of the + passers-by. + </p> + <p> + For a moment she thought of suicide, then the reflection that it would be + set down to a broken heart arrested her. She saw in a glance the + sentimental compassion of the drawing-rooms, the foolish figure that her + sham passion would cut among the innumberable love affairs of the duke, + and the Parma violets scattered by the pretty Moessards of journalism on + her grave, dug so near the other. Travelling remained to her—one of + those journeys so distant that they take even one’s thoughts into a new + world. Unfortunately the money was wanting. Then she remembered that on + the morrow of her great success at the Exhibition, old Brahim Bey had + called to see her, to make her, in behalf of his master, magnificent + proposals for certain great works to be executed in Tunis. She had said No + at the time, without allowing herself to be tempted by Oriental + remuneration, a splendid hospitality, the finest court in the Bardo for a + studio, with its surrounding facades of stone in lacework carving. But now + she was quite willing. She had to make but a sign, the agreement was + immediately concluded, and after an exchange of telegrams, a hasty packing + and shutting up of the house, she set out for the railway station as if + for a week’s absence, astonished herself by her prompt decision, flattered + on all the adventurous and artistic sides of her nature by the hope of a + new life in an unknown country. + </p> + <p> + The Bey’s pleasure yacht was to await her at Genoa; and in anticipation, + closing her eyes in the cab which was taking her to the station, she could + see the white stone buildings of an Italian port embracing an iridescent + sea where the sunshine was already Eastern, where everything sang, to the + very swelling of the sails on the blue water. Paris, as it happened, was + muddy that day, uniformly gray, flooded by one of those continuous rains + of which it seems to have the special property, rains that seem to have + risen in clouds from its river, from its smoke, from its monster’s breath, + and to fall in torrents from its roofs, from its spouts, from the + innumerable windows of its garrets. Felicia was impatient to get away from + this gloomy Paris, and her feverish impatience found fault with the cabmen + who made slow progress with the horses, two sorry creatures of the + veritable cab-horse type, with an inexplicable block of carriages and + omnibuses crowded together in the vicinity of the Pont de la Concorde. + </p> + <p> + “But go on, driver, go on, then.” + </p> + <p> + “I cannot, madame. It is the funeral procession.” + </p> + <p> + She put her head out of the window and drew it back again immediately, + terrified. A line of soldiers marching with reversed arms, a confusion of + caps and hats raised from the forehead at the passage of an endless + cortege. It was Mora’s funeral procession defiling past. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t stop here. Go round,” she cried to the cabman. + </p> + <p> + The vehicle turned about with difficulty, dragging itself regretfully from + the superb spectacle which Paris had been awaiting for four days; it + remounted the avenues, took the Rue Montaigne, and, with its slow and + surly little trot, came out at the Madeleine by the Boulevard Malesherbes. + Here the crowd was greater, more compact. + </p> + <p> + In the misty rain, the illuminated stained-glass windows of the church, + the dull echo of the funeral chants beneath the lavishly distributed black + hangings under which the very outline of the Greek temple was lost, filled + the whole square with a sense of the office in course of celebration, + while the greater part of the immense procession was still squeezed up in + the Rue Royale, and as far even as the bridges a long black line + connecting the dead man with that gate of the Legislative Assembly through + which he had so often passed. Beyond the Madeleine the highway of the + boulevard stretched away empty, and looking bigger between two lines of + soldiers with arms reversed, confining the curious to the pavements black + with people, all the shops closed, and the balconies, in spite of the + rain, overflowing with human beings all leaning forward in the direction + of the church, as if to see a mid-Lent festival or the home-coming of + victorious troops. Paris, hungry for the spectacular, constructs it + indifferently out of anything, civil war as readily as the burial of a + statesman. + </p> + <p> + It was necessary for the cab to retrace its course again and to make a new + circuit; and it is easy to imagine the bad temper of the driver and his + beasts, all three of them Parisian in soul and passions, at having to + deprive themselves of so fine a show. Then, as all the life of Paris had + been drawn into the great artery of the boulevard, there began through the + deserted and silent streets—a capricious and irregular drive—the + snail-like progress of a cab taken by the hour. First touching the extreme + points of the Faubourg Saint-Martin and the Faubourg Saint-Denis, + returning again towards the centre, and at the conclusion of circuits and + dodges finding always the same obstacle in ambush, the same crowd, some + fragment of the black defile perceived for a moment at the branching of a + street, unfolding itself in the rain to the sound of muffled drums—a + dull and heavy sound, like that of earth falling on a coffin-lid. + </p> + <p> + What torture for Felicia! It was her weakness and her remorse crossing + Paris in this solemn pomp, this funeral train, this public mourning + reflected by the very clouds; and the proud girl revolted against this + affront done her by fate, and tried to escape from it to the back of the + carriage, where she remained exhausted with eyes closed, while old + Crenmitz, believing her nervousness to be grief, did her best to comfort + her, herself wept over their separation, and hiding also, left the entire + window of the cab to the big Algerian hound with his finely modelled head + scenting the wind, and his two paws resting in the sash with an heraldic + stiffness of pose. Finally, after a thousand interminable windings, the + cab suddenly came to a halt, jolted on again with difficulty amid cries + and abuse, then, tossed about, the luggage on top threatening its + equilibrium, it ended by coming to a full stop, held prisoner, as it were, + at anchor. + </p> + <p> + “<i>Bon Dieu!</i> what a mass of people!” murmured the Crenmitz, + terrified. + </p> + <p> + Felicia came out of her stupor. + </p> + <p> + “Where are we?” + </p> + <p> + Under a colourless, smoky sky, blotted out by a fine network of rain and + stretched like gauze over everything, there lay an immense space filled by + an ocean of humanity surging from all the streets that led to it, and + motionless around a lofty column of bronze, which dominated this sea like + the gigantic mast of a sunken vessel. Cavalry in squadrons, with swords + drawn, guns in batteries stood at intervals along an open passage, + awaiting him who was to come by, perhaps in order to try to retake him, to + carry him off by force from the formidable enemy who was bearing him away. + Alas! all the cavalry charges, all the guns could be of no avail here. The + prisoner was departing, firmly guarded, defended by a triple wall of + hardwood, metal, and velvet, impervious to grape-shot; and it was not from + those soldiers that he could hope for his deliverance. + </p> + <p> + “Get away from this. I will not stay here,” said Felicia, furious, + plucking at the wet box-coat of the driver, and seized by a wild dread at + the thought of the nightmare which was pursuing her, of <i>that</i> which + she could hear coming in a frightful rumbling, still distant, but growing + nearer from minute to minute. At the first movement of the wheels, + however, the cries and shouts broke out anew. Thinking that he would be + allowed to cross the square, the driver had penetrated with great + difficulty to the front ranks of the crowd; it now closed behind him and + refused to allow him to go forward. There they had to remain, to endure + those odours of common people and of alcohol, those curious glances, + already fired by the prospect of an exceptional spectacle. They stared + rudely at the beautiful traveller who was starting off with so many + trunks, and a dog of such size for her defender. Crenmitz was horribly + afraid; Felicia, for her part, could think of only one thing, and that was + that <i>he</i> was about to pass before her eyes, that she would be in the + front rank to see him. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly a great shout “Here it comes!” Then silence fell on the whole + square at last at the end of three weary hours of waiting. + </p> + <p> + It came. + </p> + <p> + Felicia’s first impulse was to lower the blind on her side, on the side + past which the procession was about to pass. But at the rolling of the + drums close at hand, seized by the nervous wrath at her inability to + escape the obsession of the thing, perhaps also infected by the morbid + curiosity around her, she suddenly let the blind fly up, and her pale and + passionate little face showed itself at the window, supported by her two + clinched hands. + </p> + <p> + “There! since you will have it: I am watching you.” + </p> + <p> + As a funeral it was as fine a thing as can be seen, the supreme honours + rendered in all their vain splendour, as sonorous, as hollow as the + rhythmic accompaniment on the muffled drums. First the white surplices of + the clergy, amid the mourning drapery of the first five carriages; next, + drawn by six black horses, veritable horses of Erebus, there advanced the + funeral car, all beplumed, fringed and embroidered in silver, with big + tears, heraldic coronets surmounting gigantic M’s, prophetic initials + which seemed those of Death himself, <i>La Mort</i> made a duchess + decorated with the eight waving plumes. So many canopies and massive + hangings hid the vulgar body of the hearse, as it trembled and quivered at + each step from top to bottom as though crushed beneath the majesty of its + dead burden. On the coffin, the sword, the coat, the embroidered hat, + parade undress—which had never been worn—shone with gold and + mother-of-pearl in the darkened little tent formed by the hangings and + among the bright tints of fresh flowers telling of spring in spite of the + sullenness of the sky. At a distance of ten paces came the household + servants of the duke; then, behind, in majestic isolation, the cloaked + officer bearing the emblems of honour—a veritable display of all the + orders of the whole world—crosses, multicoloured ribbons, which + covered to overflowing the cushion of black velvet with silver fringe. + </p> + <p> + The master of ceremonies came next, in front of the representatives of the + Legislative Assembly—a dozen deputies chosen by lot, among them the + tall figure of the Nabob, wearing the official costume for the first time, + as if ironical Fortune had desired to give to the representative on + probation a foretaste of all parliamentary joys. The friends of the dead + man, who followed, formed a rather small group, singularly well chosen to + exhibit in its crudity the superficiality and the void of that existence + of a great personage reduced to the intimacy of a theatrical manager + thrice bankrupt, of a picture-dealer grown wealthy through usuary, of a + nobleman of tarnished reputation, and of a few men about town without + distinction. Up to this point everybody was walking on foot and + bareheaded; among the parliamentary representatives there were only a few + black skull-caps, which had been put on timidly as they approached the + populous districts. After them the carriages began. + </p> + <p> + At the death of a great warrior it is the custom for the funeral convoy to + be followed by the favourite horse of the hero, his battle charger, + regulating to the slow step of the procession that dancing step excited by + the smell of powder and the pageantry of standards. In this case, Mora’s + great brougham, that “C-spring” which used to bear him to fashionable or + political gatherings, took the place of that companion in victory, its + panels draped with black, its lamps veiled in long streamers of light + crape, floating to the ground with undulating feminine grace. These veiled + lamps constituted a new fashion for funerals—the supreme “chic” of + mourning; and it well became this dandy to give a last lesson in elegance + to the Parisians, who flocked to his obsequies as to a “Longchamps” of + death. + </p> + <p> + Three more masters of ceremony; then came the impassive official + procession, always the same for marriages, deaths, baptisms, openings of + Parliament, or receptions of sovereigns, the interminable cortege of + glittering carriages, with large windows and showy liveries bedizened with + gilt, which passed through the midst of the dazzled people, to whom they + recalled fairy-tales, Cinderella chariots, while evoking those “Oh’s!” of + admiration that mount and die away with the rockets on the evenings of + firework displays. And in the crowd there was always to be found some + good-natured policeman, some learned little grocer sauntering round on the + lookout for public ceremonies, ready to name in a loud voice all the + people in the carriages, as they defiled past, with their regulation + escorts of dragoons, cuirassiers, or Paris guards. + </p> + <p> + First the representatives of the Emperor, the Empress and all the Imperial + family; after these, in the hierarchic order, cunningly elaborated, and + the least infraction of which might have been the cause of grave conflicts + between the various departments of the State—the members of the + Privy Council, the Marshals, the Admirals, the High Chancellor of the + Legion of Honour; then the Senate, the Legislative Assembly, the Council + of State, the whole organization of the law and of the university, the + costumes, the ermine, the headgear of which took you back to the days of + old Paris—an air of something stately and antiquated, out of date in + our sceptical epoch of the workman’s blouse and the dress-coat. + </p> + <p> + Felicia, to avoid her thoughts, voluntarily fixed her eyes upon this + monotonous defile, exasperating in its length; and little by little a + torpor stole over her, as if on a rainy day she had been turning over the + leaves of an album of engravings, a history of official costumes from the + most remote times down to our own day. All these people, seen in profile, + still and upright, behind the large glass panes of the carriage windows, + had indeed the appearance of personages in coloured plates, sitting well + forward on the edge of the seats in order that the spectators should miss + nothing of their golden embroideries, their palm-leaves, their galloons, + their braids—puppets given over to the curiosity of the crowd—and + exposing themselves to it with an air of indifference and detachment. + </p> + <p> + Indifference! That was the most special characteristic of this funeral. It + was to be felt everywhere, on people’s faces and in their hearts, as well + among these functionaries of whom the greater part had only known the duke + by sight, as in the ranks on foot between his hearse and his brougham, his + closest friends, or those who had been in daily attendance upon him. The + fat minister, Vice-President of the Council, seemed indifferent, and even + glad, as he held in his powerful fist the strings of the pall and seemed + to draw it forward, in more haste than the horses and the hearse to + conduct to his six feet of earth the enemy of twenty years’ standing, the + eternal rival, the obstacle to all his ambitions. The other three + dignitaries did not advance with the same vigour, and the long cords + floated loosely in their weary or careless hands with significant + slackness. The priests were indifferent by profession. Indifferent were + the servants of his household, whom he never called anything but “<i>chose</i>,” + and whom he treated really like “things.” Indifferent was M. Louis, for + whom it was the last day of servitude, a slave become emancipated, rich + enough to enjoy his ransom. Even among the intimate friends of the dead + man this glacial cold had penetrated. Yet some of them had been deeply + attached to him. But Cardailhac was too busy superintending the order and + the progress of the procession to give way to the least emotion, which + would, besides, have been foreign to his nature. Old Monpavon, stricken to + the heart, would have considered the least bending of his linen cuirass + and of his tall figure a piece of deplorably bad taste, totally unworthy + of his illustrious friend. His eyes remained as dry and glittering as + ever, since the undertakers provide the tears for great mournings, + embroidered in silver on black cloth. Some one was weeping, however, away + yonder among the members of the committee; but he was expending his + compassion very naively upon himself. Poor Nabob! softened by that music + and splendour, it seemed to him that he was burying all his ambitions of + glory and dignity. And his was but one more variety of indifference. + </p> + <p> + Among the public, the enjoyment of a fine spectacle, the pleasure of + turning a week-day into a Sunday, dominated every other sentiment. Along + the line of the boulevards, the spectators on the balconies almost seemed + disposed to applaud; here, in the populous districts, irreverence was + still more frankly manifest. Jests, blackguardly wit at the expense of the + dead man and his doings, known to all Paris, laughter raised by the tall + hats of the rabbis, the pass-word of the council experts, all were heard + in the air between two rolls of the drum. Poverty, forced labour, with its + feet in the wet, wearing its blouse, its apron, its cap raised from habit, + with sneering chuckle watched this inhabitant of another sphere pass by, + this brilliant duke, severed now from all his honours, who perhaps while + living had never paid a visit to that end of the town. But there it is. To + arrive up yonder, where everybody has to go, the common route must be + taken, the Faubourg Saint-Antoine, the Rue de la Roquette as far as that + great gate where the <i>octroi</i> is collected and the infinite begins. + And well! it does one good to see that lordly persons like Mora, dukes, + ministers, follow the same road towards the same destination. This + equality in death consoles for many of the injustices of life. To-morrow + bread will seem less dear, wine better, the workman’s tool less heavy, + when he will be able to say to himself as he rises in the morning, “That + old Mora, he has come to it like the rest!” + </p> + <p> + The procession still went on, more fatiguing even than lugubrious. Now it + consisted of choral societies, deputations from the army and the navy, + officers of all descriptions, pressing on in a troop in advance of a long + file of empty vehicles—mourning-coaches, private carriages—present + for reasons of etiquette. Then the troops followed in their turn, and into + the sordid suburb, that long Rue de la Roquette, already swarming with + people as far as eye could reach, there plunged a whole army, + foot-soldiers, dragoons, lancers, carabineers, heavy guns with their great + mouths in the air, ready to bark, making pavement and windows tremble, but + not able to drown the rolling of the drums—a sinister and savage + rolling which suggested to Felicia’s imagination some funeral of an + African chief, at which thousands of sacrificed victims accompany the soul + of a prince so that it shall not pass alone into the kingdom of spirits, + and made her fancy that perhaps this pompous and interminable retinue was + about to descend and disappear in the superhuman grave large enough to + receive the whole of it. + </p> + <p> + “<i>Now and in the hour of our death. Amen</i>,” Crenmitz murmured, while + the cab swayed from side to side in the lighted square, and high in space + the golden statue of Liberty seemed to be taking a magic flight; and the + old dancer’s prayer was perhaps the one note of sincere feeling called + forth on the immense line of the funeral procession. + </p> + <p> + All the speeches are over; three long speeches as icy as the vault into + which the dead man has just descended, three official declamations which, + above all, have provided the orators with an opportunity of giving loud + voice to their own devotion to the interests of the dynasty. Fifteen times + the guns have roused the many echoes of the cemetery, shaken the wreaths + of jet and everlasting flowers—the light <i>ex-voto</i> offerings + suspended at the corners of the monuments—and while a reddish mist + floats and rolls with a smell of gunpowder across the city of the dead, + ascends and mingles slowly with the smoke of factories in the plebeian + district, the innumerable assembly disperses also, scattered through the + steep streets, down the lofty steps all white among the foliage, with a + confused murmur, a rippling as of waves over rocks. Purple robes, black + robes, blue and green coats, shoulder-knots of gold, slender swords, of + whose safety the wearers assure themselves with their hands as they walk, + all hasten to regain their carriages. People exchange low bows, discreet + smiles, while the mourning-coaches tear down the carriage-ways at a + gallop, revealing long lines of black coachmen, with backs bent, hats + tilted forward, the box-coats flying in the wind made by their rapid + motion. + </p> + <p> + The general impression is one of thankfulness to have reached the end of a + long and fatiguing performance, a legitimate eagerness to quit the + administrative harness and ceremonial costumes, to unbuckle sashes, to + loosen stand-up collars and neckbands, to slacken the tension of facial + muscles, which had been subject to long restraint. + </p> + <p> + Heavy and short, dragging along his swollen legs with difficulty, + Hemerlingue was hastening towards the exit, declining the offers which + were made to him of a seat in this or that carriage, since he knew well + that his own alone was of size adequate to cope with his proportions. + </p> + <p> + “Baron, Baron, this way. There is room for you.” + </p> + <p> + “No, thank you. I want to walk to straighten my legs.” + </p> + <p> + And to avoid these invitations, which were beginning to embarrass him, he + took an almost deserted pathway, one that proved too deserted indeed, for + hardly had he taken a step along it before he regretted it. Ever since + entering the cemetery he had had but one preoccupation—the fear of + finding himself face to face with Jansoulet, whose violence of temper he + knew, and who might well forget the sacredness of the place, and even in + Pere Lachaise renew the scandal of the Rue Royale. Two or three times + during the ceremony he had seen the great head of his old chum emerge from + among the crowd of insignificant types which largely composed the company + and move in his direction, as though seeking him and desiring a meeting. + Down there, in the main road, there would, at any rate, have been people + about in case of trouble, while here—Brr—It was this anxiety + that made him quicken his short step, his panting breaths, but in vain. As + he looked round, in his fear of being followed, the strong, erect + shoulders of the Nabob appeared at the entrance to the path. Impossible + for the big man to slip away through one of the narrow passages left + between the tombs, which are placed so close together that there is not + even space to kneel. The damp, rich soil slipped and gave way beneath his + feet. He decided to walk on with an air of indifference, hoping that + perhaps the other might not recognise him. But a hoarse and powerful voice + cried behind him: + </p> + <p> + “Lazarus!” + </p> + <p> + His name—the name of this rich man—was Lazarus. He made no + reply, but tried to catch up a group of officers who were moving on, very + far in front of him. + </p> + <p> + “Lazarus! Oh, Lazarus!” + </p> + <p> + Just as in old times on the quay of Marseilles. Under the influence of old + habit he was tempted to stop; then the remembrance of his infamies, of all + the ill he had done the Nabob, that he was still occupied in doing him, + came back to him suddenly with a horrible fear so strong that it amounted + to a paroxysm, when an iron hand laid hold of him unceremoniously. A sweat + of terror broke out over all his flabby limbs, his face became still more + yellow, his eyes blinked in anticipation of the formidable blow which he + expected to come, while his fat arms were instinctively raised to ward it + off. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, don’t be afraid. I wish you no harm,” said Jansoulet sadly. “Only I + have come to beg you to do no more to me.” + </p> + <p> + He stooped to breathe. The banker, bewildered and frightened, opened wide + his round owl’s eyes in presence of this suffocating emotion. + </p> + <p> + “Listen, Lazarus; it is you who are the stronger in this war we have been + waging on each other for so long. I am down; yes, down. My shoulders have + touched the ground. Now, be generous; spare your old chum. Give me + quarter; come, give me quarter.” + </p> + <p> + This southerner was trembling, defeated and softened by the emotional + display of the funeral ceremony. Hemerlingue, as he stood facing him, was + hardly more courageous. The gloomy music, the open grave, the speeches, + the cannonade of that lofty philosophy of inevitable death, all these + things had worked on the feelings of this fat baron. The voice of his old + comrade completed the awakening of whatever there remained of human in + that packet of gelatine. + </p> + <p> + His old chum! It was the first time for ten years—since their + quarrel—that he had seen him so near. How many things were recalled + to him by those sun-tanned features, those broad shoulders, so ill adapted + for the wearing of embroidered coats! The thin woollen rug full of holes, + in which they used to wrap themselves both to sleep on the bridge of the + <i>Sinai</i>, the food shared in brotherly fashion, the wanderings through + the burned-up country round Marseilles, where they used to steal big + onions and eat them raw by the side of some ditch, the dreams, the + schemings, the pence put into a common fund, and, when fortune had begun + to smile on them, the fun they had had together, those excellent quiet + little suppers over which they would tell each other everything, with + their elbows on the table. + </p> + <p> + How can one ever reach the point of seriously quarrelling when one knows + the other so well, when they have lived together like two twins at the + breast of the lean and strong nurse, Poverty, sharing her sour milk and + her rough caresses! These thoughts passed through Hemerlingue’s mind like + a flash of lightning. Almost instinctively he let his heavy hand fall into + the one which the Nabob was holding out to him. Something of the primitive + animal was roused in them, something stronger than their enmity, and these + two men, each of whom for ten years had been trying to bring the other to + ruin and disgrace, fell to talking without any reserve. + </p> + <p> + Generally, between friends newly met, after the first effusions are over, + a silence comes as if they had no more to tell each other, while it is in + reality the abundance of things, their precipitate rush, that prevents + them from finding utterance. The two chums had touched that condition; but + Jansoulet kept a tight grasp on the banker’s arm, fearing to see him + escape and resist the kindly impulse he had just roused. + </p> + <p> + “You are not in a hurry, are you? We can take a little walk, if you like. + It has stopped raining, the air is pleasant; one feels twenty years + younger.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it is pleasant,” said Hemerlingue; “only I cannot walk for long; my + legs are heavy.” + </p> + <p> + “True, your poor legs. See, there is a bench over there. Let us go and sit + down. Lean on me, old friend.” + </p> + <p> + And the Nabob, with brotherly aid, led him to one of those benches dotted + here and there among the tombs, on which those inconsolable mourners rest + who make the cemetery their usual walk and abode. He settled him in his + seat, gazed upon him tenderly, pitied him for his infirmity, and, + following what was quite a natural channel in such a spot, they came to + talking of their health, of the old age that was approaching. This one was + dropsical, the other subject to apoplectic fits. Both were in the habit of + dosing themselves with the Jenkins pearls, a dangerous remedy—witness + Mora, so quickly carried off. + </p> + <p> + “My poor duke!” said Jansoulet. + </p> + <p> + “A great loss to the country,” remarked the banker with an air of + conviction. + </p> + <p> + And the Nabob added naively: + </p> + <p> + “For me above all, for me; for, if he had lived—Ah! what luck you + have, what luck you have!” + </p> + <p> + Fearing to have wounded him, he went on quickly: + </p> + <p> + “And then, too, you are clever, so very clever.” + </p> + <p> + The baron looked at him with a wink so droll, that his little black + eyelashes disappeared amid his yellow fat. + </p> + <p> + “No,” said he, “it is not I who am clever. It is Marie.” + </p> + <p> + “Marie?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, the baroness. Since her baptism she has given up her name of Yamina + for that of Marie. She is a real sort of woman. She knows more than I do + myself about banking and Paris and business. It is she who manages + everything at home.” + </p> + <p> + “You are very fortunate,” sighed Jansoulet. His air of gloom told a long + story of qualities missing in Mlle. Afchin. Then, after a silence, the + baron resumed: + </p> + <p> + “She has a great grudge against you, Marie, you know. She will not be + pleased when she hears that we have been talking together.” + </p> + <p> + A frown passed over his heavy brow, as though he were regretting their + reconciliation, at the thought of the scene which he would have with his + wife. Jansoulet stammered: + </p> + <p> + “I have done her no harm, however.” + </p> + <p> + “Come, come, neither of you has been very nice to her. Think of the + affront put upon her when we called after our marriage. Your wife sending + word to us that she was not in the habit of receiving quondam slaves. As + though our friendship ought not to have been stronger than a prejudice. + Women don’t forget things of that kind.” + </p> + <p> + “But no responsibility lay with me for that, old friend. You know how + proud those Afchins are.” + </p> + <p> + He was not proud himself, poor man. His mien was so woebegone, so + supplicating under his friend’s frown, that he moved him to pity. + Decidedly, the cemetery had softened the baron. + </p> + <p> + “Listen, Bernard; there is only one thing that counts. If you want us to + be friends, as formerly, and this reconciliation not to be wasted, you + will have to get my wife to consent. Without her nothing can be done. When + Mlle. Afchin shut her door in our faces you let her have her way, did you + not? In the same way, on my side, if Marie said to me when I go home, ‘I + will not let you be friends,’ all my protestations now would not prevent + me from throwing you overboard. For there is no such thing as friendship + in face of such difficulties. Peace at one’s fireside is better than + everything else.” + </p> + <p> + “But in that case, what is to be done?” asked the Nabob, frightened. + </p> + <p> + “I am going to tell you. The baroness is at home every Saturday. Come with + your wife and pay her a visit the day after to-morrow. You will find the + best society in Paris at the house. The past shall not be mentioned. The + ladies will gossip together of chiffons and frocks, talk of the things + women do talk about. And then the whole matter will be settled. We shall + become friends as we used to be; and since you are in difficulties, well, + we will find some way of getting you out of them.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you think so? The fact is I am in terrible straits,” said the other, + shaking his head. + </p> + <p> + Hemerlingue’s cunning eyes disappeared again beneath the folds of his + cheeks like two flies in butter. + </p> + <p> + “Well, yes; I have played a strong game. But you don’t lack shrewdness, + all the same. The loan of the fifteen millions to the Bey—it was a + good stroke, that. Ah! you are bold enough; only you hold your cards + badly. One can see your game.” + </p> + <p> + Till now they had been talking in low tones, impressed by the silence of + the great necropolis; but little by little human interests asserted + themselves in a louder key even there where their nothingness lay exposed + on all those flat stones covered with dates and figures, as if death was + only an affair of time and calculation—the desired solution of a + problem. + </p> + <p> + Hemerlingue enjoyed the sight of his friend reduced to such humility, and + gave him advice on his affairs, with which he seemed to be fully + acquainted. According to him the Nabob could still get out of his + difficulties very well. Everything depended on the validation, on the + turning up of a card. The question was to make sure that it should be a + good one. But Jansoulet had no more confidence. In losing Mora, he had + lost everything. + </p> + <p> + “You lose Mora, but you regain me; so things are equalized,” said the + banker tranquilly. + </p> + <p> + “No, do you see it is impossible. It is too late. Le Merquier has + completed the report. It is a dreadful one, I believe.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, if he has completed his report, he will have to prepare another.” + </p> + <p> + “How is that to be done?” + </p> + <p> + The baron looked at him with surprise. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, you are losing your senses. Why, by paying him a hundred, two + hundred, three hundred thousand francs, if necessary. + </p> + <p> + “How can you think of such a thing? Le Merquier, that man of integrity! + ‘My conscience,’ as they call him.” + </p> + <p> + This time Hemerlingue’s laugh burst forth with an extraordinary + heartiness, and must have reached the inmost recesses of the neighbouring + mausoleums, little accustomed to such disrespect. + </p> + <p> + “‘My conscience’ a man of integrity! Ah! you amuse me. You don’t know, + then, that he is in my pay, conscience and all, and that—” He + paused, and looked behind him, somewhat startled by a sound which he had + heard. “Listen.” + </p> + <p> + It was the echo of his laughter sent back to them from the depths of a + vault, as if the idea of Le Merquier having a conscience moved even the + dead to mirth. + </p> + <p> + “Suppose we walk a little,” said he, “it begins to be chilly on this + bench.” + </p> + <p> + Then, as they walked among the tombs, he went on to explain to him with a + certain pedantic fatuity, that in France bribes played as important a part + as in the East. Only one had to be a little more delicate about it here. + You veiled your bribes. “Thus, take this Le Merquier, for instance. + Instead of offering him your money openly, in a big purse, as you would to + a local pasha, you go about it indirectly. The man is fond of pictures. He + is constantly having dealings with Schwalbach, who employs him as a decoy + for his Catholic clients. Well, you offer him some picture—a + souvenir to hang on a panel in his study. The whole point is to make the + price quite clear. But you will see. I will take you round to call on him + myself. I will show you how the thing is worked.” + </p> + <p> + And delighted at the amazement of the Nabob, who, to flatter him, + exaggerated his surprise still further, and opened his eyes wide with an + air of admiration, the banker enlarged the scope of his lesson—made + of it a veritable course of Parisian and worldly philosophy. + </p> + <p> + “See, old comrade, what one has to look after in Paris, above everything + else, is the keeping up of appearances. They are the only things that + count—appearances! Now you have not sufficient care for them. You go + about town, your waistcoat unbuttoned, a good-humoured fellow, talking of + your affairs, just what you are by nature. You stroll around just as you + would in the bazaars of Tunis. That is how you have come to get bowled + over, my good Bernard.” + </p> + <p> + He paused to take breath, feeling quite exhausted. In an hour he had + walked farther and spoken more than he was accustomed to do in the course + of a whole year. They noticed, as they stopped, that their walk and + conversation had led them back in the direction of Mora’s grave, which was + situated just above a little exposed plateau, whence looking over a + thousand closely packed roofs, they could see Montmartre, the Buttes + Chaumont, their rounded outline in the distance looking like high waves. + In the hollows lights were already beginning to twinkle, like ships’ + lanterns, through the violet mists that were rising; chimneys seemed to + leap upward like masts, or steamer funnels discharging their smoke. Those + three undulations, with the tide of Pere Lachaise, were clearly suggestive + of waves of the sea, following each other at equal intervals. The sky was + bright, as often happens in the evening of a rainy day, an immense sky, + shaded with tints of dawn, against which the family tomb of Mora exhibited + in relief four allegorical figures, imploring, meditative, thoughtful, + whose attitudes were made more imposing by the dying light. Of the + speeches, of the official condolences, nothing remained. The soil trodden + down all around, masons at work washing the dirt from the plaster + threshold, were all that was left to recall the recent burial. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly the door of the ducal tomb shut with a clash of all its metallic + weight. Thenceforth the late Minister of State was to remain alone, + utterly alone, in the shadow of its night, deeper than that which then was + creeping up from the bottom of the garden, invading the winding paths, the + stone stairways, the bases of the columns, pyramids and tombs of every + kind, whose summits were reached more slowly by the shroud. Navvies, all + white with that chalky whiteness of dried bones, were passing by, carrying + their tools and wallets. Furtive mourners, dragging themselves away + regretfully from tears and prayer, glided along the margins of the clumps + of trees, seeming to skirt them as with the silent flight of night-birds, + while from the extremities of Pere Lachaise voices rose—melancholy + calls announcing the closing time. The day of the cemetery was at its end. + The city of the dead, handed over once more to Nature, was becoming an + immense wood with open spaces marked by crosses. Down in a valley, the + window-panes of a custodian’s house were lighted up. A shudder seemed to + run through the air, losing itself in murmurings along the dim paths. + </p> + <p> + “Let us go,” the two old comrades said to each other, gradually coming to + feel the impression of that twilight, which seemed colder than elsewhere; + but before moving off, Hemerlingue, pursuing his train of thought, pointed + to the monument winged at the four corners by the draperies and the + outstretched hands of its sculptured figures. + </p> + <p> + “Look here,” said he. “That was the man who understood the art of keeping + up appearances.” + </p> + <p> + Jansoulet took his arm to aid him in the descent. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, yes, he was clever. But you are the most clever of all,” he answered + with his terrible Gascon intonation. + </p> + <p> + Hemerlingue made no protest. + </p> + <p> + “It is to my wife that I owe it. So I strongly recommend you to make your + peace with her, because unless you do——” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, don’t be afraid. We shall come on Saturday. But you will take me to + see Le Merquier.” + </p> + <p> + And while the two silhouettes, the one tall and square, the other massive + and short, were passing out of sight among the twinings of the great + labyrinth, while the voice of Jansoulet guiding his friend, “This way, old + fellow—lean hard on my arm,” died away by insensible degrees, a + stray beam of the setting sun fell upon and illuminated behind them in the + little plateau, an expressive and colossal bust, with great brow beneath + long swept-back hair, and powerful and ironic lip—the bust of Balzac + watching them. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0023" id="link2H_4_0023"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LA BARONNE HEMERLINGUE + </h2> + <p> + Just at the end of the long vault, under which were the offices of + Hemerlingue and Sons, the black tunnel which Joyeuse had for ten years + adorned and illuminated with his dreams, a monumental staircase with a + wrought-iron balustrade, a staircase of mediaeval time, led towards the + left to the reception rooms of the baroness, which looked out on the + court-yard just above the cashier’s office, so that in summer, when the + windows were open, the ring of the gold, the crash of the piles of money + scattered on the counters, softened a little by the rich and lofty + hangings at the windows, made a mercantile accompaniment to the buzzing + conversation of fashionable Catholicism. + </p> + <p> + The entrance struck at once the note of this house, as of her who did the + honours of it. A mixture of a vague scent of the sacristy, with the + excitement of the Bourse, and the most refined fashion, these + heterogeneous elements, met and crossed each other’s path there, but + remained as much apart as the noble faubourg, under whose patronage the + striking conversion of the Moslem had taken place, was from the financial + quarters where Hemerlingue had his life and his friends. The Levantine + colony—pretty numerous in Paris—was composed in great measure + of German Jews, bankers or brokers who had made colossal fortunes in the + East, and still did business here, not to lose the habit. The colony + showed itself regularly on the baroness’s visiting day. Tunisians on a + visit to Paris never failed to call on the wife of the great banker; and + old Colonel Brahim, <i>charge d’affaires</i> of the Bey, with his flabby + mouth and bloodshot eyes, had his nap every Saturday in the corner of the + same divan. + </p> + <p> + “One seems to smell scorching in your drawing-room, my child,” said the + old Princess de Dions smilingly to the newly named Marie, whom M. Le + Merquier and she had led to the font. But the presence of all these + heretics—Jews, Moslems, and even renegades—of these great + over-dressed blotched women, loaded with gold and ornaments, veritable + bundles of clothes, did not hinder the Faubourg Saint-Germain from + visiting, surrounding, and looking after the young convert, the plaything + of these noble ladies, a very obedient puppet, whom they showed, whom they + took out, and whose evangelical simplicities, so piquant by contrast with + her past, they quoted everywhere. Perhaps deep down in the heart of her + amiable patronesses a hope lay of meeting in this circle of returned + Orientals some new subject for conversion, an occasion for filling the + aristocratic Chapel of Missions again with the touching spectacle of one + of those adult baptisms which carry one back to the first days of the + Faith, far away on the banks of the Jordan; baptisms soon to be followed + by a first communion, a confirmation, when baptismal vows are renewed; + occasions when a godmother may accompany her godchild, guide the young + soul, share in the naive transports of a newly awakened belief, and may + also display a choice of toilettes, delicately graduated to the importance + of the sentiment of the ceremony. But not every day does it happen that + one of the leaders of finance brings to Paris an Armenian slave as his + wife. + </p> + <p> + A slave! That was the blot in the past of this woman from the East, bought + in the bazaar of Adrianople for the Emperor of Morocco, then sold, when he + died and his harem was dispersed, to the young Bey Ahmed. Hemerlingue had + married her when she passed from this new seraglio, but she could not be + received at Tunis, where no woman—Moor, Turk or European—would + consent to treat a former slave as an equal, on account of a prejudice + like that which separates the creoles from the best disguised quadroons. + Even in Paris the Hemerlingues found this invincible prejudice among the + small foreign colonies, constituted, as they were, of little circles full + of susceptibilities and local traditions. Yamina thus passed two or three + years in a complete solitude whose leisure and spiteful feelings she well + knew how to utilize, for she was an ambitious woman endowed with + extraordinary will and persistence. She learned French thoroughly, said + farewell to her embroidered vests and pantaloons of red silk, accustomed + her figure and her walk to European toilettes, to the inconvenience of + long dresses, and then, one night at the opera, showed the astonished + Parisians the spectacle, a little uncivilized still, but delicate, + elegant, and original, of a Mohammedan in a costume of <i>Leonard’s</i>. + </p> + <p> + The sacrifice of her religion soon followed that of her costume. Mme. + Hemerlingue had long abandoned the practices of Mohammedan religion, when + M. le Merquier, their friend and mentor in Paris, showed them that the + baroness’s public conversion would open to her the doors of that section + of the Parisian world whose access became more and more difficult as + society became more democratic. Once the Faubourg Saint-Germain was + conquered, all the others would follow. And, in fact, when, after the + announcement of the baptism, they learned that the greatest ladies in + France could be seen at the Baroness Hemerlingue’s Saturdays, Mmes. + Gugenheim, Furenberg, Caraiscaki, Maurice Trott—all wives of + millionaires celebrated on the markets of Tunis—gave up their + prejudices and begged to be invited to the former slave’s receptions. Mme. + Jansoulet alone—newly arrived with a stock of cumbersome Oriental + ideas in her mind, like her ostrich eggs, her narghile pipe, and the + Tunisian <i>bric-a-brac</i> in her rooms—protested against what she + called an impropriety, a cowardice, and declared that she would never set + her foot at <i>her</i> house. Soon a little retrograde movement was felt + round the Gugenheims, the Caraiscaki, and the other people, as happens at + Paris every time when some irregular position, endeavouring to establish + itself, brings on regrets and defections. They had gone too far to draw + back, but they resolved to make the value of their good-will, of their + sacrificed prejudices, felt, and the Baroness Marie well understood the + shade of meaning in the protecting tone of the Levantines, treating her as + “My dear child,” “My dear good girl,” with an almost contemptuous pride. + Thenceforward her hatred of the Jansoulets knew no bounds—the + complicated ferocious hatred of the seraglio, with strangling and the sack + at the end, perhaps more difficult to arrive at in Paris than on the banks + of the lake of El Bahaira, but for which she had already prepared the + stout sack and the cord. + </p> + <p> + One can imagine, knowing all this, what was the surprise and agitation of + this corner of exotic society, when the news spread, not only that the + great Afchin—as these ladies called her—had consented to see + the baroness, but that she would pay her first visit on her next Saturday. + Neither the Fuernbergs nor the Trotts would wish to miss such an occasion. + On her side, the baroness did everything in her power to give the utmost + brilliancy to this solemn reparation. She wrote, she visited, and + succeeded so well, that in spite of the lateness of the season, Mme. + Jansoulet, on arriving at four o’clock at the Faubourg Saint-Honore, would + have seen drawn up before the great arched doorway, side by side with the + discreet russet livery of the Princess de Dion, and of many authentic <i>blasons</i>, + the pretentious and fictitious arms, the multicoloured wheels of a crowd + of plutocrat equipages, and the tall powdered lackeys of the Caraiscaki. + </p> + <p> + Above, in the reception rooms, was another strange and resplendent crowd. + In the first two rooms there was a going and coming, a continual passage + of rustling silks up to the boudoir where the baroness sat, sharing her + attentions and cajoleries between two very distinct camps. On one side + were dark toilettes, modest in appearance, whose refinement was + appreciable only to observant eyes; on the other, a wild burst of vivid + colour, opulent figures, rich diamonds, floating scarfs, exotic fashions, + in which one felt a regret for a warmer climate, and more luxurious life. + Here were sharp taps with the fan, discreet whispers from the few men + present, some of the <i>bien pensant</i> youth, silent, immovable, sucking + the handles of their canes, two or three figures, upright behind the broad + backs of their wives, speaking with their heads bent forward, as if they + were offering contraband goods for sale; and in a corner the fine + patriarchal beard and violet cassock of an orthodox Armenian bishop. + </p> + <p> + The baroness, in attempting to harmonize these fashionable diversities, to + keep her rooms full until the famous interview, moved about continually, + took part in ten different conversations, raising her harmonious and + velvety voice to the twittering diapason which distinguishes Oriental + women, caressing and coaxing, the mind supple as the body, touching on all + subjects, and mixing in the requisite proportions fashion and charity + sermons, theatres and bazaars, the dressmaker and the confessor. The + mistress of the house united a great personal charm with this acquired + science—a science visible even in her black and very simple dress, + which brought out her nun-like pallor, her houri-like eyes, her shining + and plaited hair drawn back from a narrow, child-like forehead, a forehead + of which the small mouth accentuated the mystery, hiding from the + inquisitive the former <i>favourite’s</i> whole varied past, she who had + no age, who knew not herself the date of her birth, and never remembered + to have been a child. + </p> + <p> + Evidently if the absolute power of evil—rare indeed among women, + influenced as they are by their impressionable physical nature by so many + different currents—could take possession of a soul, it would be in + that of this slave, moulded by basenesses, revolted but patient, and + complete mistress of herself, like all those whom the habit of veiling the + eyes has accustomed to lie safely and unscrupulously. + </p> + <p> + At this moment no one could have suspected the anguish she suffered; to + see her kneeling before the princess, an old, good, straightforward soul, + of whom the Fuernberg was always saying, “Call that a princess—that!” + </p> + <p> + “I beg of you, godmamma, don’t go away yet.” + </p> + <p> + She surrounded her with all sorts of cajoleries, of graces, of little + airs, without telling her, to be sure, that she wanted to keep her till + the arrival of the Jansoulets, to add to her triumph. + </p> + <p> + “But,” said the princess, pointing out to her the majestic Armenian, + silent and grave, his tasselled hat on his knees, “I must take this poor + bishop to the <i>Grand Saint-Christophe</i>, to buy some medals. He would + never get on without me.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no, I wish—you must—a few minutes more.” And the baroness + threw a furtive look on the ancient and sumptuous clock in a corner of the + room. + </p> + <p> + Five o’clock already, and the great Afchin not arrived. The Levantines + began to laugh behind their fans. Happily tea was just being served, also + Spanish wines, and a crowd of delicious Turkish cakes which were only to + be had in that house, whose receipts, brought away with her by the + favourite, had been preserved in the harem, like some secrets of + confectionery on our convents. That made a diversion. Hemerlingue, who on + Saturdays came out of his office from time to time to make his bow to the + ladies, was drinking a glass of Madeira near the little table while + talking to Maurice Trott, once the dresser of Said-Pasha, when his wife + approached him, gently and quietly. He knew what anger this impenetrable + calm must cover, and asked her, in a low tone, timidly: + </p> + <p> + “No one?” + </p> + <p> + “No one. You see to what an insult you expose me.” + </p> + <p> + She smiled, her eyes half closed, taking with the end of her nail a crumb + of cake from his long black whiskers, but her little transparent nostrils + trembled with a terrible eloquence. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, she will come,” said the banker, his mouth full. “I am sure she will + come.” + </p> + <p> + The noise of dresses, of a train rustling in the next room made the + baroness turn quickly. But, to the great joy of the “bundles,” looking on + from their corners, it was not the lady they were expecting. + </p> + <p> + This tall, elegant blonde, with worn features and irreproachable toilette, + was not like Mlle. Afchin. She was worthy in every way to bear a name as + celebrated as that of Dr. Jenkins. In the last two or three months the + beautiful Mme. Jenkins had greatly changed, become much older. In the life + of a woman who has long remained young there comes a time when the years, + which have passed over her head without leaving a wrinkle, trace their + passage all at once brutally in indelible marks. People no longer say, on + seeing her, “How beautiful she is!” but “How beautiful she must have + been!” And this cruel way of speaking in the past, of throwing back to a + distant period that which was but yesterday a visible fact, marks a + beginning of old age and of retirement, a change of all her triumphs into + memories. Was it the disappointment of seeing the doctor’s wife arrive, + instead of Mme. Jansoulet, or did the discredit which the Duke de Mora’s + death had thrown on the fashionable physician fall on her who bore his + name? There was a little of each of these reasons, and perhaps of another, + in the cool greeting of the baroness. A slight greeting on the ends of her + lips, some hurried words, and she returned to the noble battalion nibbling + vigorously away. The room had become animated under the effects of wine. + People no longer whispered; they talked. The lamps brought in added a new + brilliance to the gathering, but announced that it was near its close; + some indeed, not interested in the great event, having already taken their + leave. And still the Jansoulets did not come. + </p> + <p> + All at once a heavy, hurried step. The Nabob appeared, alone, buttoned up + in his black coat, correctly dressed, but with his face upset, his eyes + haggard, still trembling from the terrible scene which he had left. + </p> + <p> + She would not come. + </p> + <p> + In the morning he had told the maids to dress madame for three o’clock, as + he did each time he took out the Levantine with him, when it was necessary + to move this indolent person, who, not being able to accept even any + responsibility whatever, left others to think, decide, act for her, going + willingly where she was desired to go, once she was started. And it was on + this amiability that he counted to take her to Hemerlingue’s. But when, + after <i>dejeuner</i>, Jansoulet dressed, superb, perspiring with the + effort to put on gloves, asked if madame would soon be ready, he was told + that she was not going out. The matter was grave, so grave, that putting + on one side all the intermediaries of valets and maids, which they made + use of in their conjugal dialogues, he ran up the stairs four steps at + once like a gust of wind, and entered the draperied rooms of the + Levantine. + </p> + <p> + She was still in bed, dressed in that great open tunic of silk of two + colours, which the Moors call a <i>djebba</i>, and in a little cap + embroidered with gold, from which escaped her heavy long black hair, all + entangled round her moon-shaped face, flushed from her recent meal. The + sleeves of her <i>djebba</i> pushed back showed two enormous shapeless + arms, loaded with bracelets, with long chains wandering through a heap of + little mirrors, of red beads, of scent-boxes, of microscopic pipes, of + cigarette cases—the childish toyshop collection of a Moorish woman + at her rising. + </p> + <p> + The room, filled with the heavy opium-scented smoke of Turkish tobacco, + was in similar disorder. Negresses went and came, slowly removing their + mistress’s coffee, the favourite gazelle was licking the dregs of a cup + which its delicate muzzle had overturned on the carpet, while seated at + the foot of the bed with a touching familiarity, the melancholy Cabassu + was reading aloud to madame a drama in verse which Cardailhac was shortly + going to produce. The Levantine was stupefied with this reading, + absolutely astounded. + </p> + <p> + “My dear,” said she to Jansoulet, in her thick Flemish accent, “I don’t + know what our manager is thinking of. I am just reading this <i>Revolt</i>, + which he is so mad about. But it is impossible. There is nothing dramatic + about it.” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t talk to me of the theatre,” said Jansoulet, furious, in spite of + his respect for the daughter of the Afchins. “What, you are not dressed + yet? Weren’t you told that we were going out?” + </p> + <p> + They had told her, but she had begun to read this stupid piece. And with + her sleepy air: + </p> + <p> + “We will go out to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + “To-morrow! Impossible. We are expected to-day. A most important visit.” + </p> + <p> + “But where?” + </p> + <p> + He hesitated a second. + </p> + <p> + “To Hemerlingue’s.” + </p> + <p> + She raised her great eyes, thinking he was making game of her. Then he + told her of his meeting with the baron at the funeral of de Mora and the + understanding they had come to. + </p> + <p> + “Go there, if you like,” said she coldly. “But you little know me if you + believe that I, an Afchin, will ever set foot in that slave’s house.” + </p> + <p> + Cabassu, prudently seeing what was likely to happen, had fled into a + neighbouring room, carrying with him the five acts of <i>The Revolt</i> + under his arm. + </p> + <p> + “Come,” said the Nabob to his wife, “I see that you do not know the + terrible position I am in. Listen.” + </p> + <p> + Without thinking of the maids or the negresses, with the sovereign + indifference of an Oriental for his household, he proceeded to picture his + great distress, his fortune sequestered over seas, his credit destroyed + over here, his whole career in suspense before the judgment of the + Chamber, the influence of the Hemerlingues on the judge-advocate, and the + necessity of the sacrifice at the moment of all personal feeling to such + important interests. He spoke hotly, tried to convince her, to carry her + away. But she merely answered him, “I shall not go,” as if it were only a + matter of some unimportant walk, a little too long for her. + </p> + <p> + He said trembling: + </p> + <p> + “See, now, it is not possible that you should say that. Think that my + fortune is at stake, the future of our children, the name you bear. + Everything is at stake in what you cannot refuse to do.” + </p> + <p> + He could have spoken thus for hours and been always met by the same firm, + unshakable obstinacy—an Afchin could not visit a slave. + </p> + <p> + “Well, madame,” said he violently, “this slave is worth more than you. She + has increased tenfold her husband’s wealth by her intelligence, while you, + on the contrary——” + </p> + <p> + For the first time in the twelve years of their married life Jansoulet + dared to hold up his head before his wife. Was he ashamed of this crime of + <i>lese-majeste</i>, or did he understand that such a remark would place + an impassable gulf between them? He changed his tone, knelt down before + the bed, with that cheerful tenderness when one persuades children to be + reasonable. + </p> + <p> + “My little Martha, I beg of you—get up, dress yourself. It is for + your own sake I ask it, for your comfort, for your own welfare. What would + become of you if, for a caprice, a stupid whim, we should become poor?” + </p> + <p> + But the word—poor—represented absolutely nothing to the + Levantine. One could speak of it before her, as of death before little + children. She was not moved by it, not knowing what it was. She was + perfectly determined to keep in bed in her <i>djebba</i>; and to show her + decision, she lighted a new cigarette at her old one just finished; and + while the poor Nabob surrounded his “dear little wife” with excuses, with + prayers, with supplications, promising her a diadem of pearls a hundred + times more beautiful than her own, if she would come, she watched the + heavy smoke rising to the painted ceiling, wrapping herself up in it as in + an imperturbable calm. At last, in face of this refusal, this silence, + this barrier of headstrong obstinacy, Jansoulet unbridled his wrath and + rose up to his full height: + </p> + <p> + “Come,” said he, “I wish it.” + </p> + <p> + He turned to the negresses: + </p> + <p> + “Dress your mistress at once.” + </p> + <p> + And boor as he was at the bottom, the son of a southern nail-maker + asserting itself in this crisis which moved him so deeply, he threw back + the coverlids with a brutal and contemptuous gesture, knocking down the + innumerable toys they bore, and forcing the half-clad Levantine to bound + to her feet with a promptitude amazing in so massive a person. She roared + at the outrage, drew the folds of her dalmatic against her bust, pushed + her cap sideways on her dishevelled hair, and began to abuse her husband. + </p> + <p> + “Never, understand me, never! You may drag me sooner to this——” + </p> + <p> + The filth flowed from her heavy lips as from a spout. Jansoulet could have + imagined himself in some frightful den of the port of Marseilles, at some + quarrel of prostitutes and bullies, or again at some open-air dispute + between Genoese, Maltese, and Provencal hags, gleaning on the quays round + the sacks of wheat, and abusing each other, crouched in the whirlwinds of + golden dust. She was indeed a Levantine of a seaport, a spoiled child, + who, in the evening, left alone, had heard from her terrace or from her + gondola the sailors revile each other in every tongue of the Latin seas, + and had remembered it all. The wretched man looked at her, frightened, + terrified at what she forced him to hear, at her grotesque figure, foaming + and gasping: + </p> + <p> + “No, I will not go—no, I will not go!” + </p> + <p> + And this was the mother of his children, a daughter of the Afchins! + Suddenly, at the thought that his fate was in the hands of this woman, + that it would only cost her a dress to put on to save him—and that + time was flying—that soon it would be too late, a criminal feeling + rose to his brain and distorted his features. He came straight to her, his + hands contracted, with such a terrible expression that the daughter of the + Afchins, frightened, rushed, calling towards the door by which the <i>masseur</i> + had just gone out: + </p> + <p> + “Aristide!” + </p> + <p> + This cry, the words, this intimacy of his wife with a servant! Jansoulet + stopped, his rage suddenly calmed; then, with a gesture of disgust, he + flung himself out, slamming the doors, more eager to fly the misfortune + and the horror whose presence he divined in his own home, than to seek + elsewhere the help he had been promised. + </p> + <p> + A quarter of an hour later he made his appearance at the Hemerlingues’, + making a despairing gesture as he entered to the banker, and approached + the baroness stammering the ready-made phrase he had heard repeated so + often the night of his ball, “His wife, very unwell—most grieved not + to have been able to come—” She did not give him time to finish, + rose slowly, unwound herself like a long and slender snake from the + pleated folds of her tight dress, and said, without looking at him, “Oh, I + knew—I knew!” then changed her place and took no more notice of him. + He attempted to approach Hemerlingue, but the good man seemed absorbed in + his conversation with Maurice Trott. Then he went to sit down near Mme. + Jenkins, whose isolation seemed like his own. But, even while talking to + the poor woman, as languid as he was preoccupied, he was watching the + baroness doing the honours of this drawing-room, so comfortable when + compared with his own gilded halls. + </p> + <p> + It was time to leave. Mme. Hemerlingue went to the door with some of the + ladies, presented her forehead to the old princess, bent under the + benediction of the Armenian bishop, nodded with a smile to the young men + with the canes, found for each the fitting adieu with perfect ease; and + the wretched man could not prevent himself from comparing this Eastern + slave, so Parisian, so distinguished in the best society of the world, + with the other, the European brutalized by the East, stupefied with + Turkish tobacco, and swollen with idleness. His ambitions, his pride as a + husband, were extinguished and humiliated in this marriage of which he saw + the danger and the emptiness—a final cruelty of fate taking from him + even the refuge of personal happiness from all his public disasters. + </p> + <p> + Little by little the room was emptied. The Levantines disappeared one + after another, leaving each time an immense void in their place. Mme. + Jenkins was gone, and only two or three ladies remained whom Jansoulet did + not know, and behind whom the mistress of the house seemed to shelter + herself from him. But Hemerlingue was free, and the Nabob rejoined him at + the moment when he was furtively escaping to his offices on the same floor + opposite his rooms. Jansoulet went out with him, forgetting in his trouble + to salute the baroness, and once on the antechamber staircase, + Hemerlingue, cold and reserved while he was under his wife’s eye, expanded + a little. + </p> + <p> + “It is very annoying,” said he in a low voice, as if he feared to be + overheard, “that Mme. Jansoulet has not been willing to come.” + </p> + <p> + Jansoulet answered him by a movement of despair and savage helplessness. + </p> + <p> + “Annoying, annoying,” repeated the other in a whisper, and feeling for his + key in his pocket. + </p> + <p> + “Come, old fellow,” said the Nabob, taking his hand, “there’s no reason, + because our wives don’t agree—That doesn’t hinder us from remaining + friends. What a good chat the other day, eh?” + </p> + <p> + “No doubt” said the baron, disengaging himself, as he opened the door + noiselessly, showing the deep workroom, whose lamp burned solitarily + before the enormous empty chair. “Come, good-bye, I must go; I have my + mail to despatch.” + </p> + <p> + “<i>Ya didon, monci</i>” (But look here, sir) said the poor Nabob, trying + to joke, and using the <i>patois</i> of the south to recall to his old + chum all the pleasant memories stirred up the other evening. “Our visit to + Le Merquier still holds good. The picture we were going to present to him, + you know. What day?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, yes, Le Merquier—true—eh—well, soon. I will write + to you.” + </p> + <p> + “Really? You know it is very important.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes. I will write to you. Good-bye.” + </p> + <p> + And the big man shut his door in a hurry, as if he were afraid of his wife + coming. + </p> + <p> + Two days after, the Nabob received a note from Hemerlingue, almost + unreadable on account of the complicated scrawls, of abbreviations more or + less commercial, under which the ex-sutler hid his entire want of + spelling: + </p> + <p> + MY DEAR OLD COM<i>—I cannot accom</i> you to Le Mer. <i>Too bus</i> + just now. Besid<i> y</i> will be <i>bet</i> alone to <i>tal</i>. Go <i>th + bold</i>. You are <i>exp. A</i> Cassette, <i>ev morn</i> 8 to 10. + </p> + <p> + Yours <i>faith</i> + </p> + <p> + HEM. + </p> + <p> + Below as a postscript, a very small hand had written very legibly: + </p> + <p> + “A religious picture, as good as possible.” + </p> + <p> + What was he to think of this letter? Was there real good-will in it, or + polite evasion? In any case hesitation was no longer possible. Time + pressed. Jansoulet made a bold effort, then—for he was very + frightened of Le Merquier—and called on him one morning. + </p> + <p> + Our strange Paris, alike in its population and its aspects, seems a + specimen map of the whole world. In the Marais there are narrow streets, + with old sculptured worm-eaten doors, with overhanging gables and + balconies, which remind you of old Heidelberg. The Faubourg Saint-Honore, + lying round the Russian church with its white minarets and golden domes, + seems a part of Moscow. On Montmartre I know a picturesque and crowded + corner which is simply Algiers. Little, low, clean houses, each with its + brass plate and little front garden, are English streets between Neuilly + and the Champs-Elysees while all behind the apse of Saint-Sulpice, the Rue + Feron, the Rue Cassette, lying peaceably in the shadow of its great + towers, roughly paved, their doors each with its knocker, seem lifted out + of some provincial and religious town—Tours or Orleans, for example—in + the district of the cathedral or the palace, where the great over-hanging + trees in the gardens rock themselves to the sound of the bells and the + choir. + </p> + <p> + It was there, in the neighbourhood of the Catholic Club—of which he + had just been made honorary president—that M. Le Merquier lived. He + was <i>avocat</i>, deputy for Lyons, business man of all the great + communities of France; and Hemerlingue, moved by a deep-seated instinct, + had intrusted him with the affairs of his firm. + </p> + <p> + He arrived before nine o’clock at an old mansion of which the ground floor + was occupied by a religious bookshop, asleep in the odour of the sacristy, + and of the thick gray paper on which the stories of miracles are printed + for hawkers, and mounted the great whitewashed convent stairway. Jansoulet + was touched by this provincial and Catholic atmosphere, in which revived + the souvenirs of his past in the south, impressions of infancy still + intact, thanks to his long absence from home; and since his arrival at + Paris he had had neither the time nor the occasion to call them in + question. Fashionable hypocrisy had presented itself to him in all its + forms save that of religious integrity, and he refused now to believe in + the venality of a man who lived in such surroundings. Introduced into the + <i>avocat’s</i> waiting-room—a vast parlour with fine white muslin + curtains, having for its sole ornament a large and beautiful copy of + Tintoretto’s Dead Christ—his doubt and trouble changed into + indignant conviction. It was not possible! He had been deceived as to Le + Merquier. There was surely some bold slander in it, such as so easily + spreads in Paris—or perhaps it was one of those ferocious snares + among which he had stumbled for six months. No, this stern conscience, so + well known in Parliament and the courts, this cold and austere personage, + could not be treated like those great swollen pashas with loosened + waist-belts and floating sleeves open to conceal the bags of gold. He + would only expose himself to a scandalous refusal, to the legitimate + revolt of outraged honour, if he attempted such means of corruption. + </p> + <p> + The Nabob told himself all this, as he sat on the oak bench which ran + round the room, a bench polished with serge dresses and the rough cloth of + cassocks. In spite of the early hour several persons were waiting there + with him. A Dominican, ascetic and serene, walking up and down with great + strides; two sisters of charity, buried under their caps, counting long + rosaries which measured their time of waiting; priests from Lyons, + recognisable by the shape of their hats; others reserved and severe in + air, sitting at the great ebony table which filled the middle of the room, + and turning over some of those pious journals printed at Fouvieres, just + above Lyons, the <i>Echo of Purgatory</i>, the <i>Rose-bush of Mary</i>, + which give as a present to all yearly subscribers pontifical indulgences + and remissions of future sins. Some muttered words, a stifled cough, the + light whispered prayers of the sisters, recalled to Jansoulet the distant + and confused sensation of the hours of waiting in the corner of his + village church round the confessional on the eves of the great festivals + of the Church. + </p> + <p> + At last his turn came, and if a doubt as to M. Le Merquier had remained, + he doubted no longer when he saw this great office, simple and severe, yet + a little more ornate than the waiting-room, a fitting frame for the + austerity of the lawyer’s principles, and for his thin form, tall, + stooping, narrow-shouldered, squeezed into a black coat too short in the + sleeves, from which protruded two black fists, broad and flat, two sticks + of Indian ink with hieroglyphs of great veins. The clerical deputy had, + with the leaden hue of a Lyonnese grown mouldy between his two rivers, a + certain life of expression which he owed to his double look—sometimes + sparkling, but impenetrable behind the glass of his spectacles; more + often, vivid, mistrustful, and dark, above these same glasses, surrounded + by the shadow which a lifted eye and a stooping head gives the eyebrow. + </p> + <p> + After a greeting almost cordial in comparison with the cold bow which the + two colleagues exchanged at the Chamber, an “I was expecting you” in which + perhaps an intention showed itself, the lawyer pointed the Nabob into a + seat near his desk, told the smug domestic in black not to come till he + was summoned, arranged a few papers, after which, sinking into his + arm-chair with the attitude of a man ready to listen, who becomes all + ears, his legs crossed, he rested his chin on his hand, with his eyes + fixed on a great rep curtain falling to the ground in front of him. + </p> + <p> + The moment was decisive, the situation embarrassing. Jansoulet did not + hesitate. It was one of the poor Nabob’s pretensions to know men as well + as Mora. And this instinct, which, said he, had never deceived him, warned + him that he was at that moment dealing with a rigid and unshakable + honesty, a conscience in hard stone, untouchable by pick-axe or powder. + “My conscience!” Suddenly he changed his programme, threw to the winds the + tricks and equivocations which embarrassed his open and courageous + disposition, and, head high and heart open, held to this honest man a + language he was born to understand. + </p> + <p> + “Do not be astonished, my dear colleague,”—his voice trembled, but + soon became firm in the conviction of his defence—“do not be + astonished if I am come to find you here instead of asking simply to be + heard by the third committee. The explanation which I have to make to you + is so delicate and confidential that it would have been impossible to make + it publicly before my colleagues.” + </p> + <p> + Maitre Le Merquier, above his spectacles, looked at the curtain with a + disturbed air. Evidently the conversation was taking an unexpected turn. + </p> + <p> + “I do not enter on the main question,” said the Nabob. “Your report, I am + assured, is impartial and loyal, such as your conscience has dictated to + you. Only there are some heart-breaking calumnies spread about me to which + I have not answered, and which have perhaps influenced the opinion of the + committee. It is on this subject that I wish to speak to you. I know the + confidence with which you are honoured by your colleagues, M. Le Merquier, + and that, when I shall have convinced you, your word will be enough + without forcing me to lay bare my distress to them all. You know the + accusation—the most terrible, the most ignoble. There are so many + people who might be deceived by it. My enemies have given names, dates, + addresses. Well, I bring you the proofs of my innocence. I lay them bare + before you—you only—for I have grave reasons for keeping the + whole affair secret.” + </p> + <p> + Then he showed the lawyer a certificate from the Consulate of Tunis, that + during twenty years he had only left the principality twice—the + first time to see his dying father at Bourg-Saint Andeol; the second, to + make, with the Bey, a visit of three days to his chateau of Saint-Romans. + </p> + <p> + “How comes it, then, that with a document so conclusive in my hands I have + not brought my accusers before the courts to contradict and confound them? + Alas, monsieur, there are cruel responsibilities in families. I have a + brother, a poor fellow, weak and spoiled, who has for long wallowed in the + mud of Paris, who has left there his intelligence and his honour. Has he + descended to that degree of baseness which I, in his name, am accused of? + I have not dared to find out. All I can say is, that my poor father, who + knew more than any one in the family of it, whispered to me in dying, + ‘Bernard, it is your elder brother who has killed me. I die of shame, my + child.’” + </p> + <p> + He paused, compelled by his suppressed emotion; then: + </p> + <p> + “My father is dead, Maitre Le Merquier, but my mother still lives, and it + is for her sake, for her peace, that I have held back, that I hold back + still, before the scandal of my justification. Up to now, in fact, the mud + thrown at me has not touched her; it only comes from a certain class, in a + special press, a thousand leagues away from the poor woman. But law + courts, a trial—it would be proclaiming our misfortune from one end + of France to the other, the articles of the official paper reproduced by + all the journals, even those of the little district where my mother lives. + The calumny, my defence, her two children covered with shame by the one + stroke, the name—the only pride of the old peasant—forever + disgraced. It would be too much for her. It would be enough to kill her. + And truly, I find it enough, too. That is why I have had the courage to be + silent, to weary, if I could, my enemies by silence. But I need some one + to answer for me in the Chamber. It must not have the right to expel me + for reasons which would dishonour me, and since it has chosen you as the + chairman of the committee, I am come to tell you everything, as to a + confessor, to a priest, begging you not to divulge anything of this + conversation, even in the interests of my case. I only ask you, my dear + colleague, absolute silence; for the rest, I rely on your justice and your + loyalty.” + </p> + <p> + He rose, ready to go, and Le Merquier did not move, still asking the green + curtain in front of him, as if seeking inspiration for his answer there. + At last he said: + </p> + <p> + “It shall be as you desire, my dear colleague. This confidence shall + remain between us. You have told me nothing, I have heard nothing.” + </p> + <p> + The Nabob, still heated with his burst of confidence, which demanded, it + seemed to him, a cordial response, a pressure of the hand, was seized with + a strange uneasiness. This coolness, this absent look, so unnerved him + that he was at the door with the awkward bow of one who feels himself + importunate, when the other stopped him. + </p> + <p> + “Wait, then, my dear colleague. What a hurry you are in to leave me! A few + moments, I beg of you. I am too happy to have a chat with a man like you. + Besides, we have more than one common bond. Our friend Hemerlingue has + told me that you, too, are much interested in pictures.” + </p> + <p> + Jansoulet trembled. The two words—“Hemerlingue,” “pictures”—meeting + in the same phrase so unexpectedly, restored all his doubts, all his + perplexities. He did not give himself away yet, however, and let Le + Merquier advance, word by word, testing the ground for his stumbling + advances. People had told him often of the collection of his honourable + colleague. “Would it be indiscreet to ask the favour of being admitted, to—” + </p> + <p> + “On the contrary, I should feel much honoured,” said the Nabob, tickled in + the most sensible—since the most costly—point of his vanity; + and looking round him at the walls of the room, he added with the tone of + a connoisseur, “You have some fine things, too.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh,” said the other modestly, “just a few canvases. Painting is so dear + now, it is a taste so difficult to satisfy, a true passion <i>de luxe</i>—a + passion for a Nabob,” said he, smiling, with a furtive look over his + glasses. + </p> + <p> + They were two prudent players, face to face; but Jansoulet was a little + astray in this new situation, where he who only knew how to be bold, had + to be on his guard. + </p> + <p> + “When I think,” murmured the lawyer, “that I have been ten years covering + these walls, and that I have still this panel to fill.” + </p> + <p> + In fact, at the most conspicuous place on the wall there was an empty + place, emptied rather, for a great gold-headed nail near the ceiling + showed the visible, almost clumsy, trace of a snare laid for the poor + simpleton, who let himself be taken in it so foolishly. + </p> + <p> + “My dear M. Le Merquier,” said he with his engaging, good-natured voice, + “I have a Virgin of Tintoretto’s just the size of your panel.” + </p> + <p> + Impossible to read anything in the eyes of the lawyer, this time hidden + under their overhanging brows. + </p> + <p> + “Permit me to hang it there, opposite your table. That will help you to + think sometimes of me.” + </p> + <p> + “And to soften the severities of my report, too, sir?” cried Le Merquier, + formidable and upright, his hand on the bell. “I have seen many shameless + things in my life, but never anything like this. Such offers to me, in my + own house!” + </p> + <p> + “But, my dear colleague, I swear to you——” + </p> + <p> + “Show him out,” said the lawyer to the hang-dog servant who had just + entered; and from the middle of his office, whose door remained open, + before all the waiting-room, where the paternosters were silent, he + pursued Jansoulet—who slunk off murmuring excuses to the door—with + these terrible words: + </p> + <p> + “You have outraged the honour of the Chamber in my person, sir. Our + colleagues shall be informed of it this very day; and, this crime coming + after your others, you will learn to your cost that Paris is not the East, + and that here we do not make shameless traffic of the human conscience.” + </p> + <p> + Then, after having chased the seller from the temple, the just man closed + his door, and approaching the mysterious green curtain, said in a tone + that sounded soft amidst his pretended anger: + </p> + <p> + “Is that what you wanted, Baroness Marie?” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0024" id="link2H_4_0024"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE SITTING + </h2> + <p> + That morning there were no guests to lunch at 32 Place Vendome, so that + towards one o’clock might have been seen the majestic form of M. Barreau, + gleaming white at the gate, among four or five of his scullions in their + cook’s caps, and as many stable-boys in Scotch caps—an imposing + group, which gave to the house the aspect of an hotel where the staff was + taking the air between the arrivals of the trains. To complete the + resemblance, a cab drew up before the door and the driver took down an old + leather trunk, while a tall old woman, her upright figure wrapped in a + little green shawl, jumped lightly to the footpath, a basket on her arm, + looked at the number with great attention, then approached the servants to + ask if it was there that M. Bernard Jansoulet lived. + </p> + <p> + “It is here,” was the answer; “but he is not in.” + </p> + <p> + “That does not matter,” said the old lady simply. + </p> + <p> + She returned to the driver, who put her trunk in the porch, and paid him, + returning her purse to her pocket at once with a gesture that said much + for the caution of the provincial. + </p> + <p> + Since Jansoulet had been deputy for Corsica, the domestics had seen so + many strange and exotic figures at his house, that they were not surprised + at this sunburnt woman, with eyes glowing like coals, a true Corsican + under her severe coif, but different from the ordinary provincial in the + ease and tranquility of her manners. + </p> + <p> + “What, the master is not here?” said she, with an intonation which seemed + better fitted for farm people in her part of the country, than for the + insolent servants of a great Parisian mansion. + </p> + <p> + “No, the master is not here.” + </p> + <p> + “And the children?” + </p> + <p> + “They are at lessons. You cannot see them.” + </p> + <p> + “And madame?” + </p> + <p> + “She is asleep. No one sees her before three o’clock.” + </p> + <p> + It seemed to astonish the good woman a little that any one could stay in + bed so late; but the tact which guides a refined nature, even without + education, prevented her from saying anything before the servants, and she + asked for Paul de Gery. + </p> + <p> + “He is abroad.” + </p> + <p> + “Bompain Jean-Baptiste, then.” + </p> + <p> + “He is with monsieur at the sitting.” + </p> + <p> + Her great gray eyebrows wrinkled. + </p> + <p> + “It does not matter; take up my trunk just the same.” + </p> + <p> + And with a little malicious twinkle of her eye, a proud revenge for their + insolent looks, she added: “I am his mother.” + </p> + <p> + The scullions and stable-boys drew back respectfully. M. Barreau raised + his cap: + </p> + <p> + “I thought I had seen madame somewhere.” + </p> + <p> + “And I too, my lad,” answered Mme. Jansoulet, who shivered still at the + remembrance of the Bey’s <i>fete</i>. + </p> + <p> + “My lad,” to M. Barreau, to a man of his importance! It raised her at once + to a very high place in the esteem of the others. + </p> + <p> + Well! grandeur and splendour hardly dazzled this courageous old lady. She + did not go into ecstasies over gilding and petty baubles, and as she + walked up the grand staircase behind her trunk, the baskets of flowers on + the landings, the lamps held by bronze statues, did not prevent her from + noticing that there was an inch of dust on the balustrade, and holes in + the carpet. She was taken to the rooms on the second floor belonging to + the Levantine and her children; and there, in an apartment used as a + linen-room, which seemed to be near the school-room (to judge by the + murmur of children’s voices), she waited alone, her basket on her knees, + for the return of her Bernard, perhaps the waking of her daughter-in-law, + or the great joy of embracing her grandchildren. What she saw around her + gave her an idea of the disorder of this house left to the care of the + servants, without the oversight and foreseeing activity of a mistress. The + linen was heaped in disorder, piles on piles in great wide-open cupboards, + fine linen sheets and table-cloths crumpled up, the locks prevented from + shutting by pieces of torn lace, which no one took the trouble to mend. + And yet there were many servants about—negresses in yellow Madras + muslin, who came to snatch here a towel, there a table-cloth, walking + among the scattered domestic treasures, dragging with their great flat + feet frills of fine lace from a petticoat which some lady’s-maid had + thrown down—thimble here, scissors there—ready to pick up + again in a few minutes. + </p> + <p> + Jansoulet’s mother was doubly wounded. The half-rustic artisan in her was + outraged in the tenderness, the respect, the sweet unreasonableness the + woman of the provinces feels towards a full linen cupboard—a + cupboard filled piece by piece, full of relics of past struggles, whose + contents grow finer little by little, the first token of comfort, of + wealth, in the house. Besides, she had held the distaff from morning till + night, and if the housewife in her was angry, the spinner could have wept + at the profanation. At last, unable to contain herself longer, she rose, + and actively, her little shawl displaced at each movement, she set herself + to pick up, straighten, and carefully fold this magnificent linen, as she + used to do in the fields of Saint-Romans, when she gave herself the treat + of a grand washing-day, with twenty washerwomen, the clothes-baskets + flowing over with floating whiteness, and the sheets flapping in the + morning wind on the clothes-lines. She was in the midst of this + occupation, forgetting her journey, forgetting Paris, even the place where + she was, when a stout, thick-set, bearded man, with varnished boots and a + velvet jacket, over the torso of a bull, came into the linen-room. + </p> + <p> + “What! Cabassu!” + </p> + <p> + “You here, Mme. Francoise! What a surprise!” said the <i>masseur</i>, + staring like a bronze figure. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, my brave Cabassu, it is I. I have just arrived; and as you see, I am + at work already. It made my heart bleed to see all this muddle.” + </p> + <p> + “You came up for the sitting, then?” + </p> + <p> + “What sitting?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, the grand sitting of the legislative body. It’s do-day.” + </p> + <p> + “Dear me, no. What has that got to do with me? I should understand nothing + at all about it. No, I came because I wanted to know my little Jansoulets, + and then, I was beginning to feel uneasy. I have written several times + without getting an answer. I was afraid that there was a child sick, that + Bernard’s business was going wrong—all sorts of ideas. At last I got + seriously worried, and came away at once. They are well here, they tell + me.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Mme. Francoise. Thank God, every one is quite well.” + </p> + <p> + “And Bernard. His business—is that going on as he wants it to?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, you know one has always one’s little worries in life—still, I + don’t think he should complain. But, now I think of it, you must be + hungry. I will go and make them bring you something.” + </p> + <p> + He was going to ring, more at home and at ease than the old mother + herself. She stopped him. + </p> + <p> + “No, no, I don’t want anything. I have still something left in my basket.” + And she put two figs and a crust of bread on the edge of the table. Then, + while she was eating: “And you, lad, your business? You look very much + sprucer than you did the last time you were at Bourg. How smart you are! + What do you do in the house?” + </p> + <p> + “Professor of massage,” said Aristide gravely. + </p> + <p> + “Professor—you?” said she with respectful astonishment; but she did + not dare ask him what he taught, and Cabassu, who felt such questions a + little embarrassing, hastened to change the subject. + </p> + <p> + “Shall I go and find the children? Haven’t they told them that their + grandmother is here?” + </p> + <p> + “I didn’t want to disturb them at their work. But I believe it must be + over now—listen!” + </p> + <p> + Behind the door they could hear the shuffling impatience of the children + anxious to be out in the open air, and the old woman enjoyed this state of + things, doubling her maternal desire, and hindering her from doing + anything to hasten its pleasure. At last the door opened. The tutor came + out first—a priest with a pointed nose and great cheek-bones, whom + we have met before at the great <i>dejeuners</i>. On bad terms with his + bishop, he had left the diocese where he had been engaged, and in the + precarious position of an unattached priest—for the clergy have + their Bohemians too—he was glad to teach the little Jansoulets, + recently turned out of the Bourdaloue College. With his arrogant, solemn + air, overweighted with responsibilities, which would have become the + prelates charged with the education of the dauphins of France, he preceded + three curled and gloved little gentlemen in short jackets, with leather + knapsacks, and great red stockings reaching half-way up their little thin + legs, in complete suits of cyclist dress, ready to mount. + </p> + <p> + “My children,” said Cabassu, “that is Mme. Jansoulet, your grandmother, + who has come to Paris expressly to see you.” + </p> + <p> + They stopped in a row, astonished, examining this old wrinkled visage + between the folds of her cap, this strange dress of a simplicity unknown + to them; and their grandmother’s astonishment answered theirs, complicated + with a heart-breaking discomfiture and constraint in dealing with these + little gentlemen, as stiff and disdainful as any of the nobles or + ministers whom her son had brought to Saint-Romans. On the bidding of + their tutor “to salute their venerable grandmother,” they came in turn to + give her one of those little half-hearted shakes of the hand of which they + had distributed so many in the garrets they had visited. The fact is that + this good woman, with her agricultural appearance and clean but very + simple clothes, reminded them of the charity visits of the College + Bourdaloue. They felt between them the same unknown quality, the same + distance, which no remembrance, no word of their parents had ever helped + to bridge. The abbe felt this constraint, and tried to dispel it—speaking + with the tone of voice and gestures customary to those who always think + they are in the pulpit. + </p> + <p> + “Well, madame, the day has come, the great day when Jansoulet will + confound his enemies—<i>confundantur hostes mei, quia injuste + iniquitatem fecerunt in me</i>—because they have unjustly persecuted + me.” + </p> + <p> + The old lady bent religiously before the Latin of the Church, but her face + expressed a vague expression of uneasiness at this idea of enemies and of + persecutions. + </p> + <p> + “These enemies are powerful and numerous, my noble lady, but let us not be + alarmed beyond measure. Let us have confidence in the decrees of Heaven + and in the justice of our cause. God is in the midst of it, it shall not + be overthrown—<i>in medio ejus non commovebitur</i>.” + </p> + <p> + A gigantic negro, resplendent with gold braid, interrupted him by + announcing that the bicycles were ready for the daily lesson on the + terrace of the Tuileries. Before setting out, the children again shook + solemnly their grandmother’s wrinkled and hardened hand. She was watching + them go, stupefied and oppressed, when all at once, by an adorable + spontaneous movement, the youngest turned back when he had got to the door + and, pushing the great negro aside, came to throw himself head foremost, + like a little buffalo, into Mme. Jansoulet’s skirts, squeezing her to him, + while holding out his smooth forehead, covered with brown curls, with the + grace of a child offering its kiss like a flower. Perhaps this one, nearer + the warmth of the nest, the cradling knees of the nurses with their + peasant songs, had felt the maternal influence, of which the Levantine had + deprived him, reach his heart. The old woman trembled all over with the + surprise of this instinctive embrace. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! little one, little one,” said she, seizing the little silky, curly + head which reminded her so much of another and she kissed it wildly. Then + the child unloosed himself, and ran off without saying anything, his head + moist with hot tears. + </p> + <p> + Left alone with Cabassu, the mother, comforted by this embrace, asked some + explanation of the priest’s words. Had her son many enemies? + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” said Cabassu, “it is not astonishing, in his position.” + </p> + <p> + “But what is this great day—this sitting of which you all speak?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, it is to-day that we shall know whether Bernard will be + deputy or no.” + </p> + <p> + “What? He is not one now, then? And I have told them everywhere in the + country. I illuminated Saint-Romans a month ago. Then they have made me + tell a lie.” + </p> + <p> + The <i>masseur</i> had a great deal of trouble in explaining to her the + parliamentary formalities of the verification of elections. She only + listened with one ear, walking up and down the linen-room feverishly. + </p> + <p> + “That’s where my Bernard is now, then?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, madame.” + </p> + <p> + “And can women go to the Chamber? Then why is his wife not there? For one + does not need telling that it is an important matter for him. On a day + like this he needs to feel all those whom he loves at his side. See, my + lad, you must take me there, to this sitting. Is it far?” + </p> + <p> + “No, quite near. Only, it must have begun already. And then,” added he, a + little disconcerted, “it is the hour when madame wants me.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! Do you teach her this thing you are professor of? What do you call + it?” + </p> + <p> + “Massage. We have learned it from the ancients. Yes, there she is ringing + for me, and some one will come to fetch me. Shall I tell her you are + here?” + </p> + <p> + “No, no; I prefer to go there at once.” + </p> + <p> + “But you have no admission ticket.” + </p> + <p> + “Bah! I will tell them I am Jansoulet’s mother, come to hear him judged.” + Poor mother, she spoke truer than she knew. + </p> + <p> + “Wait, Mme. Francoise. I will give you some one to show you the way, at + least.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you know, I have never been able to put up with servants. I have a + tongue. There are people in the streets. I shall find my way.” + </p> + <p> + He made a last attempt, without letting her see all his thought. “Take + care; his enemies are going to speak against him in the Chamber. You will + hear things to hurt you.” + </p> + <p> + Oh, the beautiful smile of belief and maternal pride with which she + answered: “Don’t I know better than them all what my child is worth? Could + anything make me mistaken in him? I should have to be very ungrateful + then. Get along with you!” + </p> + <p> + And shaking her head with its flapping cap wings, she set off fiercely + indignant. + </p> + <p> + With head erect and upright bearing the old woman strode along under the + great arcades which they had told her to follow, a little troubled by the + incessant noise of the carriages, and by the idleness of this walk, + unaccompanied by the faithful distaff which had never quitted her for + fifty years. All these ideas of enmities and persecutions, the mysterious + words of the priest, the guarded talk of Cabassu, frightened and agitated + her. She found in them the meaning of the presentiments which had so + overpowered her as to snatch her from her habits, her duties, the care of + the house and of her invalid. Besides, since Fortune had thrown on her and + her son this golden mantle with its heavy folds, Mme. Jansoulet had never + become accustomed to it, and was always waiting for the sudden + disappearance of these splendours. Who knows if the break-up was not going + to begin this time? And suddenly, through these sombre thoughts, the + remembrance of the scene that had just passed, of the little one rubbing + himself on her woollen gown, brought on her wrinkled lips a tender smile, + and she murmured in her peasant tongue: + </p> + <p> + “Oh, for the little one, at any rate.” + </p> + <p> + She crossed a magnificent square, immense, dazzling, two fountains + throwing up their water in a silvery spray, then a great stone bridge, and + at the end was a square building with statues on its front, a railing with + carriages drawn up before it, people going on, numbers of policemen. It + was there. She pushed through the crowd bravely and came up to the high + glass doors. + </p> + <p> + “Your card, my good woman?” + </p> + <p> + The “good woman” had no card, but she said quite simply to one of the + porters in red who were keeping the door: + </p> + <p> + “I am Bernard Jansoulet’s mother. I have come for the sitting of my boy.” + </p> + <p> + It was indeed the sitting of her boy; for everywhere in this crowd + besieging the doors, filling the passages, the hall, the tribune, the + whole palace, the same name was repeated, accompanied with smiles and + anecdotes. A great scandal was expected, terrible revelations from the + chairman, which would no doubt lead to some violence from the barbarian + brought to bay, and they hurried to the spot as to a first night or a + celebrated trial. The old mother would hardly have been heard in the + middle of this crowd, if the stream of gold left by the Nabob wherever he + had passed, marking his royal progress, had not opened all the roads to + her. She went behind the attendant in this tangle of passages, of + folding-doors, of empty resounding halls, filled with a hum which + circulated with the air of the building, as if the walls, themselves + soaked with babble, were joining to the sound of all these voices the + echoes of the past. While crossing a corridor she saw a little dark man + gesticulating and crying to the servants: + </p> + <p> + “You will tell Moussiou Jansoulet that it is I, that I am the Mayor of + Sarlazaccio, that I have been condemned to five months’ imprisonment for + him. In God’s name, surely that is worth a card for the sitting.” + </p> + <p> + Five months’ imprisonment for her son! Why? Very much disturbed, she + arrived at last, her ears singing, at the top of the staircase, where + different inscriptions—“Tribune of the Senate, of the Diplomatic + Body, of the Deputies”—stood above little doors like boxes in a + theatre. She entered, and without seeing anything at first except four or + five rows of seats filled with people, and opposite, very far off, + separated from her by a vast clear space, other galleries similarly + filled. She leaned up against the wall, astonished to be there, exhausted, + almost ashamed. A current of hot air which came to her face, a chatter of + rising voices, drew her towards the slope of the gallery, towards the kind + of gulf open in the middle where her son must be. Oh! how she would like + to see him. So squeezing herself in, and using her elbows, pointed and + hard as her spindle, she glided and slipped between the wall and the + seats, taking no notice of the anger she aroused or the contempt of the + well-dressed women whose lace and fresh toilettes she crushed; for the + assembly was elegant and fashionable. Mme. Jansoulet recognised, by his + stiff shirt-front and aristocratic nose, the marquis who had visited them + at Saint-Romans, who so well suited his name, but he did not look at her. + She was stopped farther progress by the back of a man sitting down, an + enormous back which barred everything and forbade her go farther. Happily, + she could see nearly all the hall from here by leaning forward a little; + and these semi-circular benches filled with deputies, the green hanging of + the walls, the chair at the end, occupied by a bald man with a severe air, + gave her the idea, under the studious and gray light from the roof, of a + class about to begin, with all the chatter and movement of thoughtless + schoolboys. + </p> + <p> + One thing struck her—the way in which all looks turned to one side, + to the same point of attraction; and as she followed this current of + curiosity which carried away the entire assembly, hall as well as + galleries, she saw that what they were all looking at—was her son. + </p> + <p> + In the Jansoulet’s country there is still, in some old churches, at the + end of the choir, half-way up the crypt, a stone cell where lepers were + admitted to hear mass, showing their dark profiles to the curious and + fearful crowd, like wild beasts crouched against the loopholes in the + wall. Francoise well remembered having seen in the village where she had + been brought up the leper, the bugbear of her infancy, hearing mass from + his stone cage, lost in the shade and in isolation. Now, seeing her son + seated, his head in his hands, alone, up there away from the others, this + memory came to her mind. “One might think it was a leper,” murmured the + peasant. And, in fact, this poor Nabob was a leper, his millions from the + East weighing on him like some terrible and mysterious disease. It + happened that the bench on which he had chosen to sit had several recent + vacancies on account of holidays or deaths; so that while the other + deputies were talking to each other, laughing, making signs, he sat + silent, alone, the object of attention to all the Chamber; an attention + which his mother felt to be malevolent, ironic, which burned into her + heart. How was she to let him know that she was there, near him, that one + faithful heart beat not far from his? He would not turn to the gallery. + One would have said that he felt it hostile, that he feared to look there. + Suddenly, at the sound of the bell from the presidential platform, a + rustle ran through the assembly, every head leaned forward with that fixed + attention which makes the features unmovable, and a thin man in + spectacles, whose sudden rise among so many seated figures gave him the + authority of attitude at once, said, opening the paper he held in his + hand: + </p> + <p> + “Gentlemen, in the name of your third committee, I beg to move that the + election of the second division of the department of Corsica be annulled.” + </p> + <p> + In the deep silence following this phrase, which Mme. Jansoulet did not + understand, the giant seated before her began to puff vigorously, and all + at once, in the front row of the gallery, a lovely face turned round to + address him a rapid sign of intelligence and approval. Forehead pale, lips + thin, eyebrows too black for the white framing of her hat, it all produced + in the eyes of the good old lady, without her knowing why, the effect of + the first flash of lightning in a storm and the apprehension of the + thunderbolt following the lightning. + </p> + <p> + Le Merquier was reading his report. The slow, dull monotonous voice, the + drawling, weak Lyonnese accent, while the long form of the lawyer balanced + itself in an almost animal movement of the head and shoulders, made a + singular contrast to the ferocious clearness of the brief. First, a rapid + account of the electoral irregularities. Never had universal suffrage been + treated with such primitive and barbarous contempt. At Sarlazaccio, where + Jansoulet’s rival seemed to have a majority, the ballot-box was destroyed + the night before it was counted. The same thing almost happened at Levia, + at Saint-Andre, at Avabessa. And it was the mayors themselves who + committed these crimes, who carried the urns home with them, broke the + seals, tore up the voting papers, under cover of their municipal + authority. There had been no respect for the law. Everywhere fraud, + intrigue, even violence. At Calcatoggio an armed man sat during the + election at the window of a tavern in front of the <i>mairie</i>, holding + a blunderbuss, and whenever one of Sebastiani’s electors (Sebastiani was + Jansoulet’s opponent) showed himself, the man took aim: “If you come in, I + will blow out your brains.” And when one saw the inspectors of police, + justices, inspectors of weights and measures, not afraid to turn into + canvassing agents, to frighten or cajole a population too submissive + before all these little tyrannical local influences, was that not proof of + a terrible state of things? Even priests, saintly pastors, led astray by + their zeal for the poor-box and the restoration of an impoverished + building, had preached a mission in favour of Jansoulet’s election. But an + influence still more powerful, though less respectable, had been called + into play for the good cause—the influence of the banditti. “Yes, + banditti, gentlemen; I am not joking.” And then came a sketch in outline + of Corsican banditti in general, and of the Piedigriggio family in + particular. + </p> + <p> + The Chamber listened attentively, with a certain uneasiness. For, after + all, it was an official candidate whose doings were thus described, and + these strange doings belonged to that privileged land, cradle of the + imperial family, so closely attached to the fortunes of the dynasty, that + an attack on Corsica seemed to strike at the sovereign. But when people + saw the new minister, successor and enemy of Mora, glad of the blow to a + <i>protege</i> of his predecessor, smile complacently from the Government + bench at Le Merquier’s cruel banter, all constraint disappeared at once, + and the ministerial smile repeated on three hundred mouths, grew into a + scarcely restrained laugh—the laugh of crowds under the rod which + bursts out at the least approbation of the master. In the galleries, not + usually treated to the picturesque, but amused by these stories of + brigands, there was general joy, a radiant animation on all these faces, + pleased to look pretty without insulting the solemnity of the spot. Little + bright bonnets shook with all their flowers and plumes, round + gold-encircled arms leaned forward the better to hear. The grave Le + Merquier had imported into the sitting the distraction of a show, the + little spice of humour allowed in a charity concert to bribe the + uninitiated. + </p> + <p> + Impassable and cold in the midst of his success, he continued to read in + his gloomy voice, penetrating like the rain of Lyons: + </p> + <p> + “Now, gentlemen, one asks how a stranger, a Provencial returned from the + East, ignorant of the interests and needs of this island where he had + never been seen before the election, a true type of what the Corsican + disdainfully calls a ‘continental’—how has this man been able to + excite such an enthusiasm, such devotion carried to crime, to profanity. + His wealth will answer us, his fatal gold thrown in the face of the + electors, thrust by force into their pockets with a barefaced cynicism of + which we have a thousand proofs.” Then the interminable series of + denunciations: “I, the undersigned, Croce (Antoine), declare in the + interests of truth, that the Commissary of Police Nardi, calling on us one + evening, said: ‘Listen, Croce (Antoine), I swear by the fire of this lamp + that if you vote for Jansoulet you will have fifty francs to-morrow + morning.’” And this other: “I, the undersigned, Lavezzi + (Jacques-Alphonse), declare that I refused with contempt seventeen francs + offered me by the Mayor of Pozzonegro to vote against my cousin + Sebastiani.” It is probably that for three francs more Lavezzi + (Jacques-Alphonse) would have swallowed his contempt in silence. But the + Chamber did not look into things so closely. + </p> + <p> + Indignation seized on this incorruptible Chamber. It murmured, it fidgeted + on its padded seats of red velvet, it raised a positive clamour. There + were “Oh’s” of amazement, eyes lifted in astonishment, brusque movements + on the benches, as if in disgust at this spectacle of human degradation. + And remark that the greater part of these deputies had used the same + electoral methods, that these were the heroes of those famous orgies when + whole oxen were carried in triumph, ribanded and decorated as at + Gargantuan feasts. Just these men cried louder than others, turned + furiously towards the solitary seat where the poor leper listened, still + and downcast. Yet in the midst of the general uproar, one voice was raised + in his favour, but low, unpractised, less a voice than a sympathetic + murmur, through which was distinguished vaguely: “Great services to the + Corsican population—Considerable works—Territorial Bank.” + </p> + <p> + He who mumbled thus was a little man in white gaiters, an albino head, and + thin hair in scattered locks. But the interruption of this unfortunate + friend only furnished Le Merquier with a rapid and natural transition. A + hideous smile parted his flabby lips. “The honourable M. Sarigue mentions + the Territorial Bank. We shall be able to answer him.” He seemed in fact + to be very familiar with the Paganetti den. In a few neat and lively + phrases he threw the light on to the depths of the gloomy cave, showed all + the traps, the gulfs, the windings, the snares, like a guide waving his + torch above the <i>oubliettes</i> of some sinister dungeon. He spoke of + the fictitious quarries, of the railways on paper, of the chimeric liners + disappearing in their own steam. The frightful desert of the Taverna was + not forgotten, nor the old Genoese castle, the office of the steamship + agency. But what amused the Chamber most was the story of a swindling + ceremony organized by the governor for the piercing of a tunnel through + Monte Rotondo, a gigantic undertaking always in project, put off from year + to year, demanding millions of money and thousands of workmen, and which + was begun in great pomp a week before the election. His report gave the + thing a comic air—the first blow of the pickaxe given by the + candidate in the enormous mountain covered by ancient forests, the speech + of the Prefect, the benediction of the flags with the cries of “Long live + Bernard Jansoulet!” and the two hundred workmen beginning the task at + once, working day and night for a week; then, when the election was over, + leaving the fragments of rock heaped round the abandoned excavation for a + laughing-stock—another asylum for the terrible banditti. The game + was over. After having extorted the shareholders’ money for so long, the + Territorial Bank this time was used as a means to swindle the electors of + their votes. “Furthermore, gentlemen, another detail, with which perhaps I + should have begun and spared you the recital of this electoral pasquinade. + I learn that a judicial inquiry has been opened to-day into the affairs of + the Corsican Bank, and that a serious examination of its books will very + probably reveal one of those financial scandals—too frequent, alas! + in our days—and in which, for the honour of the Chamber, we would + wish that none of our members were concerned.” + </p> + <p> + With this sudden revelation, the speaker stopped a moment, like an actor + making his point; and in the heavy silence weighing on the assembly, the + noise of a closing door was heard. It was the Governor Paganetti leaving + the tribune, his face white, the eyes wide open, his mouth half opened, + like some Pierrot scenting in the air a formidable blow. Monpavon, + motionless, expanded his shirtfront. The big man puffed violently into the + flowers of his wife’s little white hat. + </p> + <p> + Jansoulet’s mother looked at her son. + </p> + <p> + “I have spoken of the honour of the Chamber, gentlemen. On that point I + have more to say.” Now Le Merquier was reading no longer. After the + chairman of the committees, the orator came on the scene, or rather the + judge. His face was expressionless, his eyes hidden; nothing lived, + nothing moved in all his body save the right arm—the long angular + arm with short sleeves—which rose and fell automatically, like a + sword of justice, making at the end of each sentence the cruel and + inexorable gesture of beheading. And truly it was an execution at which + they were present. The orator would leave on one side scandalous legends, + the mystery which brooded over this colossal fortune acquired in distant + lands, far from all control. But there were in the life of the candidate + certain points difficult to clear up, certain details. He hesitated, + seemed to select his words; then, before the impossibility of formulating + a direct accusation: “Do not let us lower the debate, gentlemen. You have + understood me. You know to what infamous stories I allude—to what + calumnies, I wish I could say; but truth forces me to state that when M. + Jansoulet called before your committee, was asked to deny the accusations + made against him, his explanations were so vague that, though convinced of + his innocence, a scrupulous regard for your honour forced us to reject a + candidature so besmirched. No, this man must not sit among you. Besides, + what would he do there? Living so long in the East, he has unlearned the + laws, the manners, and the usages of his country. He believes in rough and + ready justice, in fights in the open street; he relies on the abuses of + power, and worse still, on the venality and crouching baseness of all men. + He is the merchant who thinks that everything can be bought at a price—even + the votes of the electors, even the conscience of his colleagues.” + </p> + <p> + One should have seen with what naive admiration these fat deputies, + enervated with good fortune, listened to this ascetic, this man of another + age, like some Saint-Jerome who had left his Thebaid to overwhelm with his + vigorous eloquence, in a full assembly of the Roman Empire, the shameless + luxury of the prevaricators and of the <i>concussionaires</i>. How well + they understood now this grand surname of “My conscience” which the courts + had given him. In the galleries the enthusiasm rose higher still. Lovely + heads leaned to see him, to drink in his words. Applause went round, + bending the bouquets here and there, like the wind in a wheat-field. A + woman’s voice cried with a little foreign accent, “Bravo! Bravo!” + </p> + <p> + And the mother? + </p> + <p> + Standing upright, immovable, concentrated in her desire to understand + something of this legal phraseology, of these mysterious allusions, she + was there like deaf-mutes who only understand what is said before them by + the movement of the lips and the expression of the faces. But it was + enough for her to watch her son and Le Merquier to understand what harm + one was doing to the other, what perfidious and poisoned meaning fell from + this long discourse on the unfortunate man whom one might have believed + asleep, except for the trembling of his strong shoulders and the clinching + of his hands in his hair, while hiding his face. Oh, if she could have + said to him: “Don’t be afraid, my son. If they all misconstrue you, your + mother loves you. Let us come away together. What need have we of them?” + And for one moment she could believe that what she was saying to him thus + in her heart he had understood by some mysterious intuition. He had just + raised and shaken his grizzled head, where the childish curve of his lips + quivered under a possibility of tears. But instead of leaving his seat, he + spoke from it, his great hands pounded the wood of the desk. The other had + finished, now it was his time to answer: + </p> + <p> + “Gentlemen,” said he. + </p> + <p> + He stopped at once, frightened by the sound of his voice, hoarse, + frightfully low and vulgar, which he heard for the first time in public. + He must find the words for his defence, tormented as he was by the + twitchings of his face, the intonations which he could not express. And if + the anguish of the poor man was touching, the old mother up there, + leaning, gasping, moving her lips nervously as if to help him find words, + reflected the picture of his torture. Though he could not see her, + intentionally turned away from her gallery, as he evidently was, this + maternal inspiration, the ardent magnetism of those black eyes, ended by + giving him life, and suddenly his words and gestures flowed freely: + </p> + <p> + “First of all, gentlemen, I must say that I do not defend the methods of + my election. If you believe that electoral morals have not been always the + same in Corsica, that all the irregularities committed are due to the + corrupting influence of my gold and not to the uncultivated and passionate + temperament of its people, reject me—it will be justice and I will + not murmur. But in this debate other matters have been dealt with, + accusations have been made which involve my personal honour, and those, + and those alone, I wish to answer.” His voice was growing firmer, always + broken, veiled, but with some soft cadences. He spoke rapidly of his life, + his first steps, his departure for the East. It sounded like an eighteenth + century tale of the Barbary corsairs sailing the Latin seas, of Beys and + of bold Provencals, as sunburned as crickets, who used to end by marrying + some sultana and “taking the turban,” in the old expression of the + Marseillais. “As for me,” said the Nabob, with his good-humoured smile. “I + had no need of taking the turban to grow rich. I had only to take into + this land of idleness the activity and flexibility of a southern + Frenchman; and in a few years I made one of those fortunes which can only + be made in those hot countries, where everything is gigantic, prodigious, + disproportionate, where flowers grow in a night, and one tree produces a + forest. The excuse of such fortunes is the manner in which they are used; + and I make bold to say that never has any favourite of fortune tried + harder to justify his wealth. I have not been successful.” No! he had not + succeeded. From all the gold he had scattered he had only gathered + contempt and hatred. Hatred! Who could boast more of it than he? like a + great ship in the dock when its keel touches the bottom. He was too rich, + and that stood for every vice, and every crime pointed him out for + anonymous vengeances, cruel and incessant enmities. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, gentlemen,” cried the poor Nabob, lifting his clinched hands, “I have + known poverty, I have struggled face to face with it, and it is a dreadful + struggle, I swear. But to struggle against wealth, to defend one’s + happiness, honour—rest—to have no shelter but piles of gold + which fall and crush you, is something more hideous, more heart-breaking + still. Never, in the darkest days of my distress, have I had the pains, + the anguish, the sleepless nights with which fortune has loaded me—this + horrible fortune which I hate and which stifles me. They call me the + Nabob, in Paris. It is not the Nabob they should say, but the Pariah—a + social pariah holding out wide arms to a society which will have none of + him.” + </p> + <p> + Written down, the words may appear cold; but there, before the assembly, + the defence of this man was stamped with an eloquent and grandiose + sincerity, which at first, coming from this rustic, this upstart, without + culture or education, with the voice of a boatman, first astonished and + then singularly moved his hearers just on account of its wild, + uncultivated style, foreign to every notion of parliamentary etiquette. + Already marks of favour had agitated members, used to the flood of gray + and monotonous administrative speech. But at this cry of rage and despair + against wealth, uttered by the wretch whom it was enfolding, rolling, + drowning in its floods of gold, while he was struggling and calling for + help from the depths of his Pactolus, the whole Chamber rose with loud + applause, and outstretched hands, as if to give the unfortunate Nabob more + testimonies of esteem, of which he was so desirous, and at the same time + to save him from shipwreck. Jansoulet felt it; and warmed by this + sympathy, he went on, with head erect and confident look: + </p> + <p> + “You have just been told, gentlemen, that I was unworthy of sitting among + you. And he who said it was the last from whom I should have expected it, + for he alone knew the sad secret of my life, he alone could speak for me, + justify me, and convince you. He has not done it. Well, I will try, + whatever it may cost me. Outrageously calumniated before my country, I owe + it to myself and my children this public justification, and I will make + it.” + </p> + <p> + With a brusque movement he turned towards the tribune where he knew his + enemy was watching him, and suddenly stopped, full of fear. There, in + front of him, behind the pale, malignant head of the baroness, his mother, + his mother whom he believed to be two hundred leagues away from the + terrible storm, was looking at him, leaning against the wall, bending down + her saintly face, flooded with tears, but proud and beaming nevertheless + with her Bernard’s great success. For it was really a success of sincere + human emotion, which a few more words would change into a triumph. Cries + of “Go on, go on!” came from all sides of the Chamber to reassure and + encourage him. But Jansoulet did not speak. He had only to say: “Calumny + has wilfully confused two names. I am called Bernard Jansoulet, the other + Jansoulet Louis.” Not a word more was needed. + </p> + <p> + But in the presence of his mother, still ignorant of his brother’s + dishonour, he could not say it. Respect—family ties forbade it. He + could hear his father’s voice: “I die of shame, my child.” Would not she + die of shame too, if he spoke? He turned from the maternal smile with a + sublime look of renunciation, then in a low voice, utterly discouraged, he + said: + </p> + <p> + “Excuse me, gentlemen; this explanation is beyond my power. Order an + investigation of my whole life, open as it is to all, alas! since any one + can interpret all my actions. I swear to you that you will find nothing + there which unfits me to sit among the representatives of my country.” + </p> + <p> + In the face of this defeat, which seemed to everybody the sudden crumbling + of an edifice of effrontery, the astonishment and disillusionment were + immense. There was a moment of excitement on the benches, the tumult of a + vote taken on the spot, which the Nabob saw vaguely through the glass + doors, as the condemned man looks down from the scaffold on the howling + crowd. Then, after that terrible pause which precedes a supreme moment, + the president made, amid deep silence, the simple pronouncement: + </p> + <p> + “The election of M. Bernard Jansoulet is annulled.” + </p> + <p> + Never had a man’s life been cut off with less solemnity or disturbance. + </p> + <p> + Up there in her gallery, Jansoulet’s mother understood nothing, except + that the seats were emptying near her, that people were rising and going + away. Soon there was no one else there save the fat man and the lady in + the white hat, who leaned over the barrier, watching Bernard with + curiosity, who seemed also to be going away, for he was putting up great + bundles of papers in his portfolio quite calmly. When they were in order, + he rose and left his place. Ah! the life of public men had sometimes cruel + situations. Gravely, slowly, under the gaze of the whole assembly, he must + descend those steps which he had mounted at the cost of so much trouble + and money, to whose feet an inexorable fatality was precipitating him. + </p> + <p> + The Hemerlingues were waiting for this, following to its last stage this + humiliating exit, which crushes the unseated member with some of the shame + and fear of a dismissal. Then, when the Nabob had disappeared, they looked + at each other with a silent laugh, and left the gallery before the old + woman had dared to ask them anything, warned by her instinct of their + secret hostility. Left alone, she gave all her attention to a new speech, + persuaded that her son’s affairs were still in question. They spoke of an + election, of a scrutiny, and the poor mother leaning forward in her red + hood, wrinkling her great eyebrows, would have religiously listened to the + whole of the report of the Sarigue election, if the attendant who had + introduced her had not come to say that it was finished and she had better + go away. She seemed very much surprised. + </p> + <p> + “Indeed! Is it over?” said she, rising almost regretfully. + </p> + <p> + And quietly, timidly: + </p> + <p> + “Has he—has he won?” + </p> + <p> + It was innocent, so touching that the attendant did not even dream of + smiling. + </p> + <p> + “Unfortunately, no, madame. M. Jansoulet has not won. But why did he stop + in that way? If it is true that he never came to Paris, and that another + Jansoulet did everything they accuse him of, why did he not say so?” + </p> + <p> + The old mother, turning pale, leaned on the balustrade of the staircase. + She had understood. + </p> + <p> + Bernard’s brusque interruption on seeing her, the sacrifice he had made to + her so simply—that noble glance as of a dying animal, came to her + mind, and the shame of the elder, the favourite child, mingled itself with + Bernard’s disaster—a double-edged maternal sorrow, which tore her + whichever way she turned. Yes, yes, it was on her account he would not + speak. But she would not accept such a sacrifice. He must come back at + once and explain himself before the deputies. + </p> + <p> + “My son, where is my son?” + </p> + <p> + “Below, madame, in his carriage. It was he who sent me to look for you.” + </p> + <p> + She ran before the attendant, walking quickly, talking aloud, pushing + aside out of her way the little black and bearded men who were + gesticulating in the passages. After the waiting-hall she crossed a great + round antechamber where servants in respectful rows made a living + wainscotting to the high, blank wall. From there she could see through the + glass doors, the outside railing, the crowd in waiting, and among the + other vehicles, the Nabob’s carriage waiting. As she passed, the peasant + recognised in one of the groups her enormous neighbour of the gallery, + with the pale man in spectacles who had attacked her son, who was + receiving all sorts of felicitation for his discourse. At the name of + Jansoulet, pronounced among mocking and satisfied sneers, she stopped. + </p> + <p> + “At any rate,” said a handsome man with a bad feminine face, “he has not + proved where our accusations were false.” + </p> + <p> + The old woman, hearing that, wrenched herself through the crowd, and + facing Moessard said: + </p> + <p> + “What he did not say I will. I am his mother, and it is my duty to speak.” + </p> + <p> + She stopped to seize Le Merquier by the sleeve, who was escaping: + </p> + <p> + “Wicked man, you must listen, first of all. What have you got against my + child? Don’t you know who he is? Wait a little till I tell you.” + </p> + <p> + And turning to the journalist: + </p> + <p> + “I had two sons, sir.” + </p> + <p> + Moessard was no longer there. She returned to Le Merquier: “Two sons, + sir.” Le Merquier had disappeared. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, listen to me, some one, I beg,” said the poor mother, throwing her + hands and her voice round her to assemble and retain her hearers; but all + fled, melted away, disappeared—deputies, reporters, unknown and + mocking faces to whom she wished at any cost to tell her story, careless + of the indifference where her sorrows and her joys fell, her pride and + maternal tenderness expressed in a tornado of feeling. And while she was + thus exciting herself and struggling—distracted, her bonnet awry—at + once grotesque and sublime, as are all the children of nature when brought + into civilization, taking to witness the honesty of her son and the + injustice of men, even the liveried servants, whose disdainful + impassibility was more cruel than all, Jansoulet appeared suddenly beside + her. + </p> + <p> + “Take my arm, mother. You must not stop there.” + </p> + <p> + He said it in a tone so firm and calm that all the laughter ceased, and + the old woman, suddenly quieted, sustained by this solid hold, still + trembling a little with anger, left the palace between two respectful + rows. A dignified and rustic couple, the millions of the son gilding the + countrified air of the mother, like the rags of a saint enshrined in a + golden <i>chasse</i>—they disappeared in the bright sunlight + outside, in the splendour of their glittering carriage—a ferocious + irony in their deep distress, a striking symbol of the terrible misery of + the rich. + </p> + <p> + They sat well back, for both feared to be seen, and hardly spoke at first. + But when the vehicle was well on its way, and he had behind him the sad + Calvary where his honour hung gibbeted, Jansoulet, utterly overcome, laid + his head on his mother’s shoulder, hid it in the old green shawl, and + there, with the burning tears flowing, all his great body shaken by sobs, + he returned to the cry of his childhood: “Mother.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0025" id="link2H_4_0025"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + DRAMAS OF PARIS + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Que l’heure est donc breve, + Qu’on passe en aimant! + C’est moins qu’un moment, + Un peu plus qu’un reve. +</pre> + <p> + In the semi-obscurity of a great drawing-room filled with flowers, the + seats of the furniture covered with holland, the chandeliers draped with + muslin, the windows open, and the venetians lowered, Mme. Jenkins is + seated at the piano reading the new song of the fashionable musician; some + melodic phrases accompanying exquisite verse, a melancholy <i>Lied</i>, + unequally divided, which seems written for the tender gravities of her + voice and the disturbed state of her soul. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Le temps nous enleve + Notre enchantement +</pre> + <p> + sighs the poor woman, moved by the sound of her own voice, and while the + notes float away in the court-yard of the house, where the fountain falls + drop by drop among a bed of rhododendrons, the singer breaks off, her + hands holding the chord, her eyes fixed on the music, but her look far + away. The doctor is absent. The care of his health and business has exiled + him from Paris for some days, and the thoughts of the beautiful Mme. + Jenkins have taken that grave turn, as often happens in solitude, that + analytical tendency which sometimes makes even momentary separations fatal + in the most united households. United they had not been for sometime. They + only saw each other at meal-times, before the servants, hardly speaking + unless he, the man of unctuous manners, allowed himself to make some + disobliging or brutal remark on her son, or on her age, which she began to + show, or on some dress which did not become her. Always gentle and serene, + she stifled her tears, accepted everything, feigned not to understand; not + that she loved him still after so much cruelty and contempt, but it was + the story, as their coachman Joe told it, “of an old clinger who was + determined to make him marry her.” Up to then a terrible obstacle—the + life of the legitimate wife—had prolonged a dishonourable situation. + Now that the obstacle no longer existed she wished to put an end to the + situation, because of Andre, who from one day to another might be forced + to despise his mother, because of the world which they had deceived for + ten years—a world she never entered but with a beating heart, for + fear of the treatment she would receive after a discovery. To her + allusions, to her prayers, Jenkins had answered at first by phrases, grand + gestures: “Could you distrust me? Is not our engagement sacred?” + </p> + <p> + He pointed out the difficulty of keeping an act of this importance secret. + Then he shut himself up in a malignant silence, full of cold anger and + violent determinations. The death of the duke, the fall of an absurd + vanity, had struck a final blow at the household; for disaster, which + often brings hearts ready to understand one another nearer, finishes and + completes disunions. And it was indeed a disaster. The popularity of the + Jenkins pearls suddenly stopped, the situation of the foreign doctor and + charlatan, ably defined by Bouchereau in the Journal of the Academy, and + people of fashion looked at each other in fright, paler from terror than + from the arsenic they had imbibed. Already the Irishman had felt the + effect of those counter blasts which make Parisian infatuations so + dangerous. + </p> + <p> + It was for that reason, no doubt, that Jenkins had judged it wise to + disappear for some time, leaving madame to continue to frequent the houses + still open to them, to gauge and hold public opinion in respect. It was a + hard task for the poor woman, who found everywhere the cool and distant + welcome which she had received at the Hemerlingues. But she did not + complain; thus earning her marriage, she was putting between them as a + last resource the sad tie of pity and common trials. And as she knew that + she was welcomed in the world on account of her talent, of the artistic + distraction she lent to their private parties, she was always ready to lay + on the piano her fan and long gloves, to play some fragment of her vast + repertory. She worked constantly, passing her afternoons in turning over + new music, choosing by preference sad and complicated harmonies, the + modern music which no longer contents itself with being an art, but + becomes a science, and answers better to our nerves, to our restlessness, + than to sentiment. + </p> + <p> + Daylight flooded the room as a maid brought a card to her mistress; + “Heurteux, business agent.” + </p> + <p> + The gentleman was there, he insisted on seeing madame. + </p> + <p> + “You have told him the doctor is travelling?” + </p> + <p> + He had been told, but it was to madame he wished to speak. + </p> + <p> + “To me?” + </p> + <p> + Disturbed, she examined this rough, crumpled card, this unknown name: + “Heurteux.” What could it be? + </p> + <p> + “Well, show him in.” + </p> + <p> + Heurteux, business agent, coming from broad daylight into the + semi-obscurity of the room, was blinking with an uncertain air, trying to + see. She, on the other hand, saw very distinctly a stiff figure, with + iron-gray whiskers and protruding jaw, one of those hangers-on of the law + whom one meets round the law courts, born fifty years old, with a bitter + mouth, an envious air, and a morocco portfolio under the arm. He sat down + on the edge of the chair which she pointed out to him, turned his head to + make sure that the servant had gone out, then opened his portfolio + methodically to search for a paper. Seeing that he did not speak, she + began in a tone of impatience: + </p> + <p> + “I ought to warn you, sir, that my husband is absent, and that I am not + acquainted with his business.” + </p> + <p> + Without any astonishment, his hand in his papers, the man answered: “I + know that <i>M. Jenkins</i> is absent, madame”—he emphasized more + particularly the two words “M. Jenkins”—“especially as I come on his + behalf.” + </p> + <p> + She looked at him frightened. “On his behalf?” + </p> + <p> + “Alas! yes, madame. The doctor’s situation, as you are no doubt aware, is + one, for the moment, of very great embarrassment. Unfortunate dealings on + the Stock Exchange, the failure of a great financial enterprise in which + his money is invested, the <i>OEuvre de Bethleem</i> which weighs heavily + on him, all these reverses coming at once have forced him to a grave + resolution. He is selling his mansion, his horses, everything that he + possesses, and has given me a power of attorney for that purpose.” + </p> + <p> + He had at last found what he was looking for—one of those stamped + folded papers, interlined and riddled with references, where the + impassible law makes itself responsible for so many lies. Mme. Jenkins was + going to say: “But I was here. I would have carried out all his wishes, + all his orders—” when she suddenly understood by the coolness of her + visitor, his easy, almost insolent attitude, that she was included in this + clearing up, in the getting rid of the costly mansion and useless riches, + and that her departure would be the signal for the sale. + </p> + <p> + She rose suddenly. The man, still seated, went on: “What I have still to + say, madame”—oh, she knew it, she could have dictated to him, what + he had still to say—“is so painful, so delicate. M. Jenkins is + leaving Paris for a long time, and in the fear of exposing you to the + hazards and adventures of the new life he is undertaking, of taking you + away from a son you cherish, and in whose interest perhaps you had better——” + </p> + <p> + She heard no more, saw no more, and while he was spinning out his gossamer + phrases, given over to despair, she heard the song over and over in her + mind, as the last image seen pursues a drowning man: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Le temps nous enleve + Notre enchantement. +</pre> + <p> + All at once her pride returned. “Let us put a stop to this, sir. All your + turns and phrases are only an additional insult. The fact is that I am + driven out—turned into the street like a servant.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, madame, madame! The situation is cruel enough, don’t let us make it + worse by hard words. In the evolution of his <i>modus vivendi</i> M. + Jenkins has to separate from you, but he does so with the greatest pain to + himself; and the proposals which I am charged to make are a proof of his + sentiments for you. First, as to furniture and clothes, I am authorized to + let you take—” + </p> + <p> + “That will do,” said she. She flew to the bell. “I am going out. Quick—my + hat, my mantle, anything, never mind what. I am in a hurry.” + </p> + <p> + And while they went to fetch her what she wanted she said: + </p> + <p> + “Everything here belongs to M. Jenkins. Let him dispose of it as he likes. + I want nothing from him. Don’t insist; it is useless.” + </p> + <p> + The man did not insist. His mission fulfilled, the rest mattered little to + him. + </p> + <p> + Steadily, coldly, she arranged her hat carefully before the glass, the + maid fastening her veil, and arranging on her shoulders the folds of her + mantle, then she looked round her and considered for a moment whether she + was forgetting anything precious to her. No, nothing—her son’s + letters were in her pocket, she never allowed them to be away from her. + </p> + <p> + “Madame does not wish for the carriage?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” And she left the house. + </p> + <p> + It was about five o’clock. At that moment Bernard Jansoulet was crossing + the doorway of the legislative chamber, his mother on his arm; but + poignant as was the drama enacted there, this one surpassed it—more + sudden, unforeseen, and without any stage effects. A drama between four + walls, improvised in Paris day by day. Perhaps it is this which gives that + vibration to the air of the city, that tremor which forces the nerves into + activity. The weather was magnificent. The streets of the wealthy quarter, + large and straight as avenues, shone in the declining light, embellished + with open windows, flowery balconies, and patches of green seen on the + boulevards, light and soft among the narrow, hard prospects of stone. Mme. + Jenkins hurried in this direction, walking aimlessly, in a dull stupor. + What a horrible crash! Five minutes ago rich, surrounded by all the + respect and comfort of easy circumstances. Now—nothing. Not even a + roof to sleep under, not even a name. The street! + </p> + <p> + Where was she to go? What would become of her? + </p> + <p> + At first she had thought of her son. But, to acknowledge her fault, to + blush before her own child, to weep while taking from him the right to + console her, was more than she could do. No, there was nothing for her but + death. To die as soon as possible, to escape shame by a complete + disappearance, to unravel in this way an inextricable situation. But where + to die! How? There are so many ways of departure! And she called them all + up mentally while she walked. Life flowed around her, its luxury at this + time of the year in full flower, round the Madeleine and its market, in a + space marked off by the perfume of carnations and roses. On the wide + footpath were well-dressed women whose skirts mingled their rustle with + the trembling of the young leaves; there was some of the pleasure here of + a meeting in a drawing-room, an air of acquaintance among the passers-by, + of smiles and discreet greetings in passing. And all at once Mme. Jenkins, + anxious lest her features might betray her, fearing what might be thought + if any one saw her rushing on so blindly, slackened her pace to the + aimless gait of an afternoon walk, stopping here and there. The light + materials of the dresses spoke of summer, of the country; a thin skirt for + the sandy paths of the parks, gauze-trimmed hats for the seaside, fans, + sunshades. Her fixed eyes fastened on these trifles without seeing them; + but in a vague and pale reflection in the clear windows she saw her image, + lying motionless on the bed of some hotel, the leaden sleep of a poison in + her head; or, down there, beyond the walls, among the slime of some sunken + boat. Which of the two was better? + </p> + <p> + She hesitated, considered, compared; then, her decision made, started off + with the resolved air of a woman tearing herself regretfully from the + temptations of the window. As she moved away, the Marquis de Monpavon, + proud and well-dressed, a flower in his coat, saluted her at a distance + with that sweep of the hat so dear to women’s vanity, the well-bred brow, + with the hat lifted high above the erect head. She answered him with her + pretty Parisian’s greeting, expressed in an imperceptible inclination of + the body and a smile; and seeing this exchange of politeness in the midst + of the spring gaiety, one would never think that the same sinister idea + was guiding the two, meeting by chance on the road they were traversing in + opposite directions, but to the same end. + </p> + <p> + The prediction of Mora’s valet had come true for the marquis: “We may die + or lose power; then there will be a reckoning, and it will be terrible.” + It was terrible. The former receiver-general had obtained with difficulty + a delay of a fortnight to make up his deficiencies, taking the last chance + that Jansoulet, with his election confirmed, and with full control over + his millions again, would come to the rescue once more. The decision of + the Assembly had just taken from him this last hope. As soon as he knew + it, he returned to the club calmly, and went up to his room, where Francis + was waiting impatiently for him with an important paper just arrived. It + was a notification to the Sieur Louis-Marie-Agenor de Monpavon to appear + the next day in the office of the Juge d’Instruction. Was it addressed to + the censor of the Territorial Bank or to the former receiver-general? In + any case, the bold formula of a judicial assignation in the first + instance, instead of a private invitation, spoke sufficiently of the + gravity of the situation and the firm resolution of Justice. + </p> + <p> + In view of such an extremity, foreseen and expected for long, he had made + his plans. A Monpavon in the criminal courts!—a Monpavon, librarian + in a convict prison! Never! He put all his affairs in order, tore up his + papers, emptied his pockets carefully, and took something from his + toilet-table, so calmly and naturally, that when he said to Francis, as he + was going out, “Am going to the baths—That dirty Chamber—Filthy + dust”—the servant took him at his word. And the marquis was not + lying. His exciting post up there in the dust of the tribune had tired him + as much as two nights in the train; and his decision to die associated + itself with his desire to take a bath, the old Sybarite thought of going + to sleep in the bath, like what’s his name, and other famous personages of + antiquity. And in justice, it must be said that not one of these Stoics + went to his death more quietly than he. + </p> + <p> + With a white camellia in his buttonhole, above his rosette of the Legion + of Honour, he was going up the Boulevard des Capucines with a light step, + when the sight of Mme. Jenkins troubled his serenity for a moment. She had + a youthful air, a light in her eyes, something so piquant that he stopped + to look at her. Tall and beautiful, with her long dress of black gauze, + her shoulders wrapped in a lace mantle, her hat trimmed with a garland of + autumn leaves, she disappeared in the midst of other elegant women in the + balmy atmosphere; and the thought that his eyes were going to close + forever on this delightful sight, whose pleasures he knew so well, + saddened Monpavon a little, and took the spring from his step. But a few + paces farther on, a meeting of another kind gave him back all his courage. + </p> + <p> + Some one, threadbare, shamefaced, dazzled by the light, was coming down + the Boulevard. It was old Marestang, former senator, former minister, so + deeply compromised in the affairs of the “Malta Biscuits,” that, in spite + of his age, his services, and the great scandal of such a proceeding, he + had been condemned to two years of prison, struck off the roll of the + Legion of Honour, of which he had been one of the dignitaries. The affair + was long ago; the poor wretch had just been let out of prison before his + sentence had expired, lost, ruined, not having even the means to gild his + trouble, for he had had to pay what he owed. Standing on the curb, he was + waiting with bent head till the crowds of carriages should allow him to + pass, embarrassed by this stoppage at the fullest spot of the boulevards + between the passers-by and the sea of open carriages filled with familiar + figures. Monpavon walking near him, caught his timid, uneasy look, + imploring a recognition and hiding from it at the same time. The idea that + one day he could humiliate himself thus, gave him a shudder of revolt. + “Oh! that is not possible!” And straightening himself up and throwing out + his chest, he kept on his way, firmer and more resolute than before. + </p> + <p> + M. de Monpavon walks to his death! He goes there by the long line of the + boulevards, all on fire in the direction of the Madeleine, where he treads + the elastic asphalt once more as a lounger, nose in the air, hands crossed + behind. He has time; there is no hurry; he is master of the rendezvous. At + each instant he smiles before him, waves a greeting from the ends of his + fingers or makes the more formal bow we have just seen. Everything revives + him, charms him, the noise of the watering-carts, the awnings of the <i>cafes</i>, + pulled down to the middle of the foot-paths. The approach of death gives + him the feelings of a convalescent accessible to all the delicacy, the + hidden poesy of an exquisite hour of summer in the midst of Parisian life—of + an exquisite hour—his last, and which he will prolong till night. No + doubt it is for that reason that he passes the sumptuous establishment + where he ordinarily takes his bath. He does not stop either at the Chinese + Baths. He is too well known here. All Paris would know of it the same + evening. There would be a scandal of bad taste, much coarse rumour about + his death in the clubs and drawing-rooms. And the old sensualist, the + well-bred man, wishes to spare himself this shame, to plunge and be + swallowed up in the vague anonymity of suicide, like those soldiers who, + after great battles, neither wounded, dead, or living, are simply put down + as “missing.” That is why he has nothing on him which can be recognised, + or furnish a hint to the inquiries of the police, why he seeks in this + immense Paris the distant quarter where will open for him the terrible but + oblivious confusion of the pauper’s grave. Already, since Monpavon has + been walking, the aspect of the boulevard has changed. The crowd has + become more compact, more active, and preoccupied, the houses smaller, + marked with signs of commerce. When the gates of Saint-Denis and + Saint-Martin are passed, with their overflow from the faubourgs, the + provincial physiognomy of the town accentuates itself. The old beau no + longer knows any one, and can congratulate himself on being unknown. + </p> + <p> + The shopkeepers looking curiously after him, with his fine linen, his + well-cut coat, and good figure, take him for some famous actor strolling + on the boulevard—witness of his first triumphs—before the play + begins. The wind freshens, the twilight softens the distances, and while + the long road behind him still glitters, it grows darker now at every step—like + the past, with its retrospections to him who looks back and regrets. It + seems to Monpavon that he is walking into blackness. He shivers a little, + but does not falter, and continues to walk with erect head and chest + thrown out. + </p> + <p> + M. de Monpavon walks to his death! Now he is entering the complicated + labyrinth of noisy streets, where the clatter of the omnibus mingles with + the thousand humming trades of the working city, where the heat of the + factory chimneys loses itself in the fever of a whole people struggling + against hunger. The air trembles, the gutters steam, the houses shake at + the passing of the wagons, of the heavy drays rumbling round the narrow + streets. On a sudden the marquis stops; he has found what he wanted. + Between the black shop of a charcoal-seller and the establishment of a + packing-case maker, whose pine boards leaning on the walls give him a + little shiver, there is a wide door, surmounted by its sign, the word + BATHS on a dirty lantern. He enters, crosses a little damp garden where a + jet of water weeps in a rockery. Here is the gloomy corner he was looking + for. Who would ever believe that the Marquis de Monpavon had come there to + cut his throat? The house is at the end, low, with green blinds and a + glass door, with a sham air of a villa. He asks for a bath, and while it + is being prepared he smokes his cigar at the window, with the noise of the + water behind him, looks at the flower-bed of sparse lilac, and the high + walls which inclose it. + </p> + <p> + At the side there is a great yard, the court-yard of a fire station, with + a gymnasium, whose masts and swings, vaguely seen from below, look like + gibbets. A bugle-call sounds in the yard, and its call takes the marquis + thirty years back, reminds him of his campaigns in Algeria, the high + ramparts of Constantine, the arrival of Mora at the regiment, and the + duels, and the little parties. Ah! how well life began then! What a pity + that those cursed cards—ps—ps—ps—Well, it’s + something to have saved appearances. + </p> + <p> + “Your bath is ready, sir,” said the attendant. + </p> + <p> + At that moment, breathless and pale, Mme. Jenkins was entering Andre’s + studio, where an instinct stronger than her will had brought her—the + wish to embrace her child before she died. When she opened the door (he + had given her a key) she was relieved to find that he was not there, and + that she would have time to calm her excitement, increased as it was by + the long walk to which she was so little accustomed. No one was there. But + on the table was the little note which he always left when he went out, so + that his mother, whose visits were becoming shorter and less frequent on + account of the tyranny of Jenkins, could tell where he was, and wait for + him or rejoin him easily. The two had not ceased to love each other + deeply, tenderly, in spite of the cruelty of life which forced into the + relations of mother and son the clandestine precautions of an intrigue. + </p> + <p> + “I am at my rehearsal,” said the note to-day, “I shall be back at seven.” + </p> + <p> + This attention of the son, whom she had not seen for three weeks, yet who + persisted in expecting her all the same, brought to the mother’s eyes the + flood of tears which was suffocating her. She felt as if she had just + entered a new world. This little room was so pure, so quiet, so elevated. + It kept the last rays of the setting sun on its windows, and seemed, with + its bare walls, hewn from a corner of the sky. It was adorned only with + one great portrait, hers, nothing but hers, smiling in the place of + honour, and again, down there, on the table in a gilt frame. This humble + little lodging, so light when all Paris was becoming dark, made an + extraordinary impression on her, in spite of the poverty of its sparse + furniture, scattered in two rooms, its common chintz, and its chimney + garnished with two great bunches of hyacinths—those flowers which + are hawked round the streets in barrowsful. What a good and worthy life + she could have led by the side of her Andre! And in her mind’s eye she had + arranged her bed in one corner, her piano in another, she saw herself + giving lessons, and caring for the home to which she was adding her share + of ease and courageous gaiety. How was it that she had not seen that her + duty, the pride of her widowhood, was there? By what blindness, what + unworthy weakness? + </p> + <p> + It was a great fault, no doubt, but one for which many excuses might be + found in her easy and tender disposition, and the clever knavery of her + accomplice, always talking of marriage, hiding from her that he himself + was no longer free, and when at last obliged to confess it, painting such + a picture of his dull life, of his despair, of his love, that the poor + creature, so deeply compromised already, and incapable of one of those + heroic efforts which raise the sufferer above the false situations, had + given way at last, had accepted this double existence, so brilliant and so + miserable, built on a lie which had lasted ten years. Ten years of + intoxicating success and unspeakable unhappiness—ten years of + singing, with the fear of exposure between each verse—where the + least remark on irregular unions wounded her like an allusion—where + the expression of her face had softened to the air of mild humility, of a + guilty woman begging for pardon. Then the certainty that she would be + deserted had come to spoil even these borrowed joys, had tarnished her + luxury; and what misery, what sufferings borne in silence, what incessant + humiliations, even to this last, the most terrible of all! + </p> + <p> + While she is thus sadly reviewing her life in the cool of the evening and + the calm of the deserted house, a gust of happy laughter rose from the + rooms beneath; and recalling the confidences of Andre, his last letter + telling the great news, she tried to distinguish among all these fresh and + limpid voices that of her daughter Elise, her son’s betrothed, whom she + did not know, whom she would never know. This reflection added to the + misery of her last moments, and loaded them with so much remorse and + regret that, in spite of her will to be brave, she wept. + </p> + <p> + Night comes on little by little. Large shadows cover the sloping windows, + where the immense depth of the sky seems to lose its colour, and to deepen + into obscurity. The roofs seem to draw close together for the night, like + soldiers preparing for the attack. The bells count the hours gravely, + while the martins fly round their hidden nests, and the wind makes its + accustomed invasion of the rubbish of the old wood-yard. To-night it sighs + with the sound of the river, a shiver of the fog; it sighs of the river, + to remind the unfortunate woman that it is there she must go. She shivers + beforehand in her lace mantle. Why did she come here to reawaken her + desire for a life impossible after the avowal she was forced to make? + Hasty steps shake the staircase; the door opens precipitately; it is + Andre. He is singing, happy, in a great hurry, for they are waiting dinner + for him below. But, as he is striking the match, he feels that someone is + in the room—a moving shadow among the shadows at rest. + </p> + <p> + “Who is there?” + </p> + <p> + Something answers him like a stifled laugh or a sob. He believes that it + is one of his little neighbours, a plot of the children to amuse + themselves. He draws near. Two hands, two arms, seize and surround him. + </p> + <p> + “It is I.” + </p> + <p> + And with a feverish voice, hurrying as if to assure herself, she tells him + that she is setting out on a long journey, and that before going— + </p> + <p> + “A journey! And where are you going?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I do not know. We are going over there, a long way, on business in + his own part of the world.” + </p> + <p> + “What! You will not be here for my play? It is in three days. And then, + immediately after, my marriage. Come now, he cannot hinder you from coming + to my marriage?” + </p> + <p> + She makes excuses, imagines reasons, but her hands burning between her + son’s, and her altered voice, tell Andre that she is not speaking the + truth. He is going to strike a light; she prevents him. + </p> + <p> + “No, no; it is useless. We are better without it. Besides, I have so much + to get ready still. I must go away.” + </p> + <p> + They are both standing up, ready for the separation, but Andre will not + let her go without telling him what is the matter, what tragic care is + hollowing that fair face where the eyes—was it an effect of the + dusk?—shone with a strange light. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing; no, nothing, I assure you. Only the idea of not being able to + take part in your happiness, your triumph. At any rate, you know I love + you; you don’t mistrust your mother, do you? I have never been a day + without thinking of you: do the same—keep me in your heart. And now + kiss me and let me go quickly. I have waited too long.” + </p> + <p> + Another minute and she would have the strength for what she had to do. She + darts forward. + </p> + <p> + “No, you shall not go. I feel that something extraordinary is happening in + your life which you do not want to tell. You are in some great trouble, I + am sure. This man has done some infamous thing.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no. Let me go! Let me go!” + </p> + <p> + But he held her fast. + </p> + <p> + “Tell me, what is it? Tell me.” + </p> + <p> + Then, whispering in her ear, with a voice tender and low as a kiss: + </p> + <p> + “He has left you, hasn’t he?” + </p> + <p> + The wretched woman shivers, hesitates. + </p> + <p> + “Ask me nothing. I will say nothing. Adieu!” + </p> + <p> + He pressed her to his heart: + </p> + <p> + “What could you tell me that I do not know already, poor mother? You did + not guess, then, why I left six months ago?” + </p> + <p> + “You know?” + </p> + <p> + “I know everything. And what has happened to you to-day I have foreseen + for long, and hoped for.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, wretch, wretch that I am, why did I come?” + </p> + <p> + “Because it is your home, because you owe me ten years of my mother. You + see now that I must keep you.” + </p> + <p> + He said all this on his knees, before the sofa on which she had let + herself fall, in a flood of tears, and the last painful sobs of her + wounded pride. She wept thus for long, her child at her feet. And now the + Joyeuse family, anxious because Andre did not come down, hurried up in a + troop to look for him. It was an invasion of innocent faces, transparent + gaiety, floating curls, modest dress, and over all the group shone the big + lamp, the good old lamp with the vast shade which M. Joyeuse solemnly + carried, as high, as straight as he could, with the gesture of a caryatid. + Suddenly they stopped before this pale and sad lady, who looked, touched + to the depths, at all this smiling grace, above all at Elise, a little + behind the others, whose conscious air in this indiscreet visit points her + out as the <i>fiancee</i>. + </p> + <p> + “Elise, embrace our mother and thank her. She has come to live with her + children.” + </p> + <p> + There she is, caught in all these caressing arms, pressed against four + little feminine hearts which have missed the shelter of a mother’s love + for so long; there she is introduced, and so gently, into the luminous + circle of the family lamp, widened to allow her to take her place there, + to dry her eyes, to warm and brighten her spirit at this steady flame, + even in this little studio near the roof, where just now the terrible + storm blew so wildly. + </p> + <p> + He who breathes his last over there, lying in his blood-stained bath, has + never known this sacred flame. Egoistical and hard, he has lived up to the + last for show, throwing out his chest in a bubble of vanity. And this + vanity was what was best in him. It alone had held him firm and upright so + long; it alone clinched his teeth on the groans of his last agony. In the + damp garden the water drips sadly. The bugle of the firemen sounds the + curfew. “Go and look at No. 7,” says the mistress, “he will never have + done with his bath.” The attendant goes, and utters a cry of fright, of + horror: “Oh, madame, he is dead! But it is not the same man.” They go, but + nobody can recognise the fine gentleman who entered a short time ago, in + this death’s-head puppet, the head leaning on the edge of the bath, a face + where the blood mingles with paint and powder, all the limbs lying in the + supreme lassitude of a part played to the end—to the death of the + actor. Two cuts of the razor across the magnificent chest, and all the + factitious majesty has burst and resolved itself into this nameless + horror, this heap of mud, of blood, of spoiled and dead flesh, where, + unrecognisable, lies the man of appearances, the Marquis + Louis-Marie-Agenor de Monpavon. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0026" id="link2H_4_0026"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + MEMOIRS OF AN OFFICE PORTER THE LAST LEAVES + </h2> + <p> + I put down in haste and with an agitated pen the terrible events of which + I have been the plaything for the last few days. This time it is all up + with the Territorial and with my ambitious dreams. Disputed bills, men in + possession, visits of the police, all our books in the hands of the + courts, the governor fled, Bois l’Hery, the director, in prison, another—Monpavon—disappeared. + My brain reels in the midst of these catastrophes. And if I had obeyed the + warnings of reason, I should have been quietly six months ago at Montbars + cultivating my vineyard, with no other care than that of seeing the + clusters grow round and golden in the good Burgundian sun, and to gather + from the leaves, after the dew, the little gray snails, so excellent when + they are fried. I should have built for myself with my savings, at the end + of the vineyard, on the height—I can see the place at this moment—a + tower in rough stone, like M. Chalmette’s, so convenient for an afternoon + nap, while the quails are chirping round the place. But always misled by + deceiving illusions, I wished to enrich myself, speculate, meddle in + finance, chain my fortune to the car of the conquerors of the day; and now + here I am back again in the saddest pages of my history, clerk in a + bankrupt establishment, my duty to answer a horde of creditors, of + shareholders drunk with fury, who load my white hairs with the worst + outrages, and would like to make me responsible for the ruin of the Nabob + and the flight of the governor; as if I myself was not as cruelly struck + by the loss of my four years of arrears, and my seven thousand francs + which I had confided to that scoundrel of Paganetti de Porto-Vecchio. + </p> + <p> + But it is my fate to empty the cup of humiliation and degradation to the + dregs. Have I not been made to appear before a Juge d’Instruction—I, + Passajon, former apparitor of the faculty, with thirty years of faithful + service, and the ribbon of Officer of the Academy? Oh! when I saw myself + going up that staircase of the Palace of Justice, so big, so conspicuous, + without a rail to hold by, I felt my head turning and my legs sinking + under me. I was forced to reflect there, crossing these halls, black with + lawyers and judges, studded with great green doors behind which one heard + the imposing noise of the hearings; and up higher, in the corridor of the + Juges d’Instruction, during my hour’s waiting on a bench, where the prison + vermin crawled on my legs, while I listened to a lot of thieves, + pickpockets, and loose women talking and laughing with the gendarmes, and + the butts of the rifles echo in the passages, and the dull roll of prison + vans. I understood then the danger of “combinations,” and that it was not + always good to ridicule M. Gogo. + </p> + <p> + What reassured me, however, was that never having taken any part in the + deliberations of the Territorial, I had no share in their dealings and + intrigues. But explain this to me: Once in the judge’s office, before that + man in a velvet cap looking at me across his table with his little eyes + like hooks, I felt so pierced through, searched, turned over to the very + depth of my being, that, in spite of my innocence, I wanted to confess. + Confess what? I don’t know. But that is the effect which the law had. This + devil of a man spent five minutes looking at me without speaking, all the + while turning over a book filled with writing not unknown to me, and + suddenly he said, in a mocking and severe tone: + </p> + <p> + “Well, M. Passajon, how long is it since the affair of the drayman?” + </p> + <p> + The memory of a certain little misdeed, in which I had taken part in my + days of distress, was already so distant that I did not understand at + once; but some words of the judge showed me how completely he knew the + history of our bank. This terrible man knew everything, down to the least + details, the most secret things. Who could have informed him so + thoroughly? + </p> + <p> + It was all very short, very dry, and, when I wished to enlighten justice + with some wise observations, a certain insolent fashion of saying, “Don’t + make phrases,” so much the more wounding at my age and with my reputation + of a good talker; also we were not alone in his office. A clerk seated + near me was writing down my deposition, and behind I heard the noise of + great leaves turning. The judge asked me all sorts of questions about the + Nabob—the time when he had made his payments, the place where we + kept our books; and all at once, addressing himself to the person whom I + could not see: “Show us the cash-book, <i>M. l’Expert</i>.” + </p> + <p> + A little man in a white tie brought the great register to the table. It + was M. Joyeuse, the former cashier of Hemerlingue & Sons. But I had + not time to offer him my respects. + </p> + <p> + “Who has done that?” asked the judge, opening the book where a page was + torn out. “Don’t lie, now.” + </p> + <p> + I did not lie; I knew nothing of it, never having had to do with the + books. However, I thought it my duty to mention M. de Gery, the Nabob’s + secretary, who often came at night into the office and shut himself up for + hours casting balances. Then little Father Joyeuse turned red with anger. + </p> + <p> + “That is an absurdity, M. le Juge d’Instruction. M. de Gery is the young + man of whom I have spoken to you. He came to the Territorial as a + superintendent, and thought too much of this poor M. Jansoulet to remove + the receipts for his payments; that is the proof of his blind but thorough + honesty. Besides, M. de Gery, who has been detained in Tunis, is on his + way back, and will furnish before long all the explanation necessary.” + </p> + <p> + I felt that my zeal was about to compromise me. + </p> + <p> + “Take care, Passajon,” said the judge. “You are only here as a witness; + but if you attempt to mislead justice, you may return a prisoner” (he, the + monster, had, indeed, the manner of desiring it). “Come now, consider; who + tore out this page?” + </p> + <p> + Then I very fortunately remembered that some days before he left Paris the + governor had me made bring the books to his house, where they were all + night. The clerk took a note of my declaration, after which the judge + dismissed me with a sign, warning me to be ready when I was wanted. Then, + on the threshold, he called me back: “Stay, M. Passajon, take this away. I + don’t want it any more.” + </p> + <p> + He held out the papers he had been consulting while he was questioning me; + and judge of my confusion when I saw on the cover the word “Memoirs,” + written in my best round-hand. I, myself, had provided material to Justice—important + details which the suddenness of our catastrophe had prevented me from + saving from the police search of our office. + </p> + <p> + My first idea on returning home was to tear up these indiscreet papers; + but on reflection, and after having assured myself that the Memoirs + contained nothing that would compromise me, I have decided to go on with + them, with the certainty of getting some profit out of them one day or + another. There are plenty of novelists at Paris who have no imagination + and can only put true stories in their books, who would be glad to buy a + little book of incidents. That is how I shall avenge myself on this + society of well-to-do swindlers, with which I have been mixed up to my + shame and misfortune. + </p> + <p> + Besides, I must occupy my leisure time. There is nothing to do at the + bank, which is completely deserted since the judicial inquiry began, + except to arrange the bills of all colours. I have again undertaken the + writing for the cook on the second floor, Mlle. Seraphine, from whom I + accept in return some little refreshment, which I keep in the strong-box, + once more become a provision safe. The wife of the governor is also very + good to me, and stuffs my pockets each time I go to see her in her great + rooms on the Chaussee d’Antin. There nothing has changed; the same luxury, + the same comfort, also a three-months’-old baby—the seventh—and + a superb nurse, whose Norman cap is the admiration of the Bois de + Boulogne. It seems that once started on the rails of fortune, people need + a certain time to slacken their speed or stop. Besides, this thief of a + Paganetti had, in case of accident, settled everything on his wife. + Perhaps that is why this rag-bag of an Italian woman has such an + unshakable admiration for him. He has fled, he is in hiding; but she + remains convinced that her husband is a little Saint-John of innocence, + the victim of his goodness and credulity. One ought to hear her. “You know + him, you Moussiou Passajon. You know if he is scrupulous. But as true as + there is a God, if my husband had committed such crimes as he is accused + of, I myself—you hear me—I myself would put a blunderbuss in + his hands, and would say to him, ‘Here, Tchecco, blow out your brains!’” + and by the way in which she opens the nostrils of her little turned-up + nose, her round eyes, black as jet, one feels that this little Corsican + would have acted as she spoke. He must be very clever, this infernal + governor, to deceive even his wife, to act a part even at home, where the + cleverest let themselves be seen as they really are. + </p> + <p> + In the meantime all these rogues have good dinners; even Bois l’Hery has + his meals sent in to the prison from the Cafe Anglais, and poor old + Passajon is reduced to live on scraps picked up in the kitchen. Still we + must not grumble too much. There are others more wretched than we are—witness + M. Francis, who came in this morning to the Territorial, thin, pale, with + dirty linen and frayed cuffs, which he still pulled down by force of + habit. + </p> + <p> + I was at the moment grilling some bacon before the fire in the board-room, + my plate laid on the corner of a marqueterie table, with a newspaper + underneath to preserve it. I invited Monpavon’s valet to share my frugal + meal; but since he has waited on a marquis he had come to think that he + formed part of the nobility, and he declined with a dignified air, + perfectly ridiculous with his hollow cheeks. He began by telling me that + he still had no news of his master; that they had sent him away from the + club, all the papers under seal, and a horde of creditors like locusts on + the marquis’s small wardrobe. “So that I am a little short,” added M. + Francis. That is to say, that he had not the worth of a radish in his + pockets, that he had been sleeping for two days on the benches in the + streets, awakened at each instant by the police, obliged to rise, to + pretend to be drunk so as to seek another shelter. As to eating, I believe + he had not done so for a long time, for he looked at the food with such + hungry eyes as to wring one’s heart, and when I insisted on putting before + him a slice of bacon and a glass of wine, he fell on it like a wolf. All + at once the blood came back to his cheeks and, still eating, he began to + chatter. + </p> + <p> + “You know, <i>pere</i> Passajon,” said he to me between two mouthfuls, “I + know where he is. I have seen him.” + </p> + <p> + He winked his eye knowingly. I looked at him in wonder. “Who is it you + have seen, M. Francis?” + </p> + <p> + “The marquis, my master—over there in the little white house behind + Notre-Dame.” (He did not use the word morgue, it is too low.) “I was sure + I should find him there. I went there first thing next morning. There he + was. Oh, well disguised, I tell you. Only his valet could recognise him. + The hair gray, the teeth gone, the wrinkles showing his sixty-five years, + which he used to hide so well. On the marble slab, with the tap running + above, I seemed to see him at his dressing-table.” + </p> + <p> + “And you said nothing?” + </p> + <p> + “No. I knew his intentions on the subject for long. I let him go away + discreetly, without awakening attention, as he wished. But, all the same, + he might have given me a crust of bread before he went, after a service of + twenty years.” + </p> + <p> + And on a sudden, striking the table with his fist with rage: + </p> + <p> + “When I think that if I had liked I might have been with Mora, instead of + going to Monpavon, that I might have had Louis’s place. What luck he has + had! How many bags of gold he laid his hands on when his duke died! And + the wardrobe—hundreds of shirts, a dressing-gown of blue fox fur + worth more than twenty thousand francs. Like Noel, too, he must have made + his pile! He had to hurry, too, for he knew that it would stop soon. Now + there is nothing to be got in the Place Vendome. An old policeman of a + mother who manages everything. Saint-Romans is to be sold, the pictures + are to be sold, half the house to be let. It is a real break-up.” + </p> + <p> + I must confess that I could not help showing my satisfaction, for this + wretched Jansoulet is the cause of all our misfortunes. A man who boasted + of being so rich, who said so everywhere. The public bit at it like a fish + who sees the scales shine through the net. He has lost millions, I admit, + but why did he make us believe he had more? They have arrested Bois + l’Hery; they should have arrested <i>him</i>. Ah! if we had had another + expert, I am sure it would have been done. Besides, as I said to Francis, + you had only to look at this upstart of a Jansoulet to see what he was + worth. What a head—like a bandit! + </p> + <p> + “And so common,” said the ex-valet. + </p> + <p> + “No principles.” + </p> + <p> + “An absolute want of form. Well, there he is on his beam-ends, and then + Jenkins, too, and plenty of others with them.” + </p> + <p> + “What! the doctor too? Ah! so much the worse. Such a polite and amiable + man.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, still another breaking-up of his establishment. Horses, carriages, + furniture. The yard of the house is full of bills, and it sounds as empty + as if some one were dead. The place at Nanterre is on sale. There were + half a dozen of the ‘little Bethlehems’ left whom they packed up in a cab. + It is a break-up, I tell you, <i>pere</i> Passajon, a ruin which we, old + as we are, may not see the end of, but it will be complete. Everything is + rotten, it must all come down!” + </p> + <p> + He was a sinister figure, this old steward of the Empire, thin, stubbly, + covered with mud, and shouting like a Jeremiah, “It is the downfall!” with + a toothless mouth, black and wide open. I felt afraid and ashamed of him, + with a great desire to see him outside, and I thought: “Oh, M. Chalmette! + Oh, my little vineyard of Montbars!” + </p> + <p> + <i>Same date</i>.—Great news. Mme. Gaganetti came this afternoon to + bring me mysteriously a letter from the governor. He is in London, going + to begin a magnificent thing. Fine offices in the best part of the town, a + superb list of shareholders. He offers me the chance of joining him, + “happy to repair thus the damage he has caused me,” says he. I shall have + twice my wages at the Territorial, be lodged comfortably, five shares in + the new bank, and all my arrears paid. All I need is a little money to go + there and to pay a few small debts round here. Good luck! My fortune is + assured. I shall write to the notary of Montbars to mortgage my vineyard. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0027" id="link2H_4_0027"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + AT BORDIGHERA + </h2> + <p> + As M. Joyeuse had told the Juge d’Instruction, Paul de Gery returned from + Tunis after three weeks’ absence. Three interminable weeks spent in + struggling among intrigues, and traps secretly laid by the powerful hatred + of the Hemerlingues—in wandering from hall to hall, from ministry to + ministry through the immense palace of the Bardo, which gathered within + one enclosure, bristling with culverins, all the departments of the State, + as much under the master’s eye as his stables and harem. On his arrival, + Paul had learned that the Chamber of Justice was preparing secretly + Jansoulet’s trial—a derisive trial, lost beforehand; and the closed + offices of the Nabob on the Marine Quay, the seals on his strong boxes, + his ships moored to the Goulette, a guard round his palace, seemed to + speak of a sort of civil death, of a disputed succession of which the + spoils would not long remain to be shared. + </p> + <p> + There was not a defender, nor a friend, in this voracious crowd; the + French colony itself appeared satisfied with the fall of a courtier who + had so long monopolized the roads to favour. To attempt to snatch this + prey from the Bey, excepting by a striking triumph at the Assembly, was + not to be thought of. All that de Gery could hope for was to save some + shreds of his fortune, and this only if he hurried, for he was expecting + day by day to learn of his friend’s complete ruin. + </p> + <p> + He set himself to work, therefore, hurried on his business with an + activity which nothing could discourage, neither Oriental discursiveness—that + refined fair-spoken politeness, under which is hidden ferocity—nor + coolly indifferent smiles, nor averted looks, invoking divine fatalism + when human lies fail. The self-possession of this southerner, in whom was + condensed, as it were, all the exuberance of his compatriots, served him + as well as his perfect knowledge of French law, of which the Code of Tunis + is only a disfigured copy. + </p> + <p> + By his diplomacy and discretion, in spite of the intrigues of + Hemerlingue’s son—who was very influential at the Bardo—he + succeeded in withdrawing from confiscation the money lent by the Nabob + some months before, and to snatch ten millions out of fifteen from + Mohammed’s rapacity. The very morning of the day on which the money was to + be paid over, he received from Paris the news of the unseating of + Jansoulet. He hurried at once to the Palace to arrive there before the + news, and on his return with the ten millions in bills on Marseilles + secure in his pocket-book, he passed young Hemerlingue’s carriage, with + his three mules at full gallop. The thin owl’s face was radiant. De Gery + understood that if he remained many hours at Tunis his bills ran the risk + of being confiscated, so took his place at once on an Italian packet which + was sailing next morning for Genoa, passed the night on board, and was + only easy in his mind when he saw far behind him white Tunis with her gulf + and the rocks of Cape Carthage spread out before her. On entering Genoa, + the steamer while making for the quay passed near a great yacht with the + Tunisian flag flying. De Gery felt greatly excited, and for a moment + believed that she had come in pursuit of him, and that on landing he might + be seized by the Italian police like a common thief. But the yacht was + swinging peacefully at anchor, her sailors cleaning the deck or repainting + the red siren of her figurehead, as if they were expecting someone of + importance. Paul had not the curiosity to ask who this personage was. He + crossed the marble city, and returned by the coast railway from Genoa to + Marseilles—that marvellous route where one passes suddenly from the + blackness of the tunnels to the dazzling light of the blue sea. + </p> + <p> + At Savona the train stopped, and the passengers were told that they could + go no farther, as one of the little bridges over the torrents which rush + from the mountains to the sea had been broken during the night. They must + wait for the engineer and the break-down gang, already summoned by + telegraph; wait perhaps a half day. It was early morning. The Italian town + was waking in one of those veiled dawns which forecast great heat for the + day. While the dispersed travellers took refuge in the hotels, installed + themselves in the <i>cafes</i>, and others visited the town, de Gery, + chafing at the delay, tried to think of some means of saving these few + hours. He thought of poor Jansoulet, to whom the money he was bringing + might save honour and life, of his dear Aline, her whose remembrance had + not quitted him a single day of his journey, no more than the portrait + which she had given him. Then he was inspired to hire one of those + four-horse <i>calesinos</i> which run from Genoa to Nice, along the + Italian Corniche—an adorable trip which foreigners, lovers, and + winners at Monaco often enjoy. The driver guaranteed that he would be at + Nice early; and even if he arrived no earlier than the train, his + impatient spirit felt the comfort of movement, of feeling at each turn of + the wheel the distance from his desire decrease. + </p> + <p> + On a fine morning in June, when one is young and in love, it is a + delicious intoxication to tear behind four horses over the white Corniche + road. To the left, a hundred feet below, the sea sparkling with foam, from + the rounded rocks of the shore to those vapoury distances where the blue + of the waves and of the heavens mingle; red or white sails are scattered + over it like wings, steamers leaving behind them their trail of smoke; and + on the sands, fishermen no larger than birds, in their anchored boats like + nests. Then the road descends, follows a rapid declivity along the rocks + and sharp promontories. The fresh wind from the waves shakes the little + harness bells; while on the right, on the side of the mountain, the rows + of pine-trees, the green oaks with roots capriciously leaving the arid + soil, and olive-trees growing on their terraces, up to a wide and white + pebbly ravine, bordered with grass, marking the passage of the waters. + This is really a dried-up water-course, which the loaded mules ascend with + firm foot among the shingle, and a washer-woman stoops near a microscopic + pond—the few drops that remained of the great inundation of winter. + From time to time one crosses the street of some village, or little town + rather, grown rusty through too much sun, of historic age, the houses + closely packed and joined by dark arcades—a network of vaulted + courts which clamber the hillside with glimpses of the upper daylight, + here and there letting one see crowds of children with aureoles of hair, + baskets of brilliant fruit, a woman coming down the road, her water-pot on + her head and her distaff on her arm. Then at a corner of the street, the + blue sparkle of the waves and the immensity of nature. + </p> + <p> + But as the day advanced, the sun rising in the heavens spread over the sea—now + escaped from its mists, still with the transparence of quartz—thousands + of rays striking the water like arrow-heads, a dazzling sight made doubly + so by the whiteness of the rocks and of the soil, by a veritable African + sirocco which raised the dust in a whirlwind on the road. They were coming + to the hottest and most sheltered places of the Corniche—a true + exotic temperature, scattering dates, cactus, and aloes. Seeing these thin + trunks, this fantastic vegetation in the white hot air, feeling the + blinding dust crackle under the wheels like snow, de Gery, his eyes half + closed, dreaming in this leaden noon, thought he was once more on that + fatiguing road from Tunis to the Bardo, in a singular medley of Levantine + carriages with brilliant liveries, of long-necked camels, of caparisoned + mules, of young donkeys, of Arabs in rags, of half-naked negroes, of + officials in full-dress with their guard of honour. Should he find there, + where the road ran through the gardens of palm-trees, the strange and + colossal architecture of the Bey’s palace, its barred windows with closed + lattices, its marble gates, its balconies in carved wood painted in bright + colours?—It was not the Bardo, but the lovely country of Bordighera, + divided, like all those on the coast, into two parts—the sea town + lying on the shore; and the upper town, joined to it by a forest of + motionless palm-trees, with upright stem and falling crown—like + green rockets, springing into the blue with their thousand feathers. + </p> + <p> + The insupportable heat, the overtired horses, forced the traveller to stop + for a couple of hours at one of those great hotels which line the road, + and bring every November into this little town, so marvellously sheltered, + the luxurious life and cosmopolitan animation of an aristocratic wintering + place. But at this time of year there was no one in the sea town of + Bordighera but fishermen, invisible at this hour. The villas and hotels + seemed dead, their blinds and shutters closed. They took Paul through + long, cool, and silent passages to a great drawing-room facing north, + which seemed to be part of the suites let for the season, whose doors + communicated with the other rooms. White curtains, a carpet, the comfort + demanded by the English even when travelling, and outside the windows, + which the hotel-keeper opened wide to tempt the traveller to a longer + stay, a splendid view of the mountain. An astonishing quiet reigned in + this great deserted inn, with neither manager, nor cook, nor waiters—the + whole staff coming only in the winter—and given up for domestic + needs to a local spoil-sauce, expert at a <i>stoffato</i>, a <i>risotto</i>; + also to two stablemen, who clothed themselves at meal-time with the + dress-coat and white tie of office. Happily, de Gery was only going to + remain there for an hour or two, to rest his eyes from the overpowering + light, his head from the dolorous grip of the sun. + </p> + <p> + From the divan where he lay, the admirable landscape, diversified with + light and trembling leaves, seemed to descend to his window by stages of + different greens, where scattered villas shone white, and among them that + of Maurice Trott, the banker, recognisable by its capricious architecture + and the height of its palms. + </p> + <p> + The Levantine house, whose gardens came up to the windows of the hotel, + had sheltered for some months an artistic celebrity, the sculptor Brehat, + who was dying of consumption, and owed the prolonging of his existence to + this princely hospitality. The neighbourhood of this dying celebrity—of + which the hotel-keeper was proud, and which he would have liked to charge + in the bill—the name of Brehat, which de Gery had so often heard + pronounced with admiration in Felicia Ruys’s studio, brought back his + thoughts to the beautiful face, with its pure lines, which he had last + seen in the Bois de Boulogue, leaning on Mora’s shoulder. What had become + of this unfortunate girl when this prop had failed her? Would this lesson + be of use to her in the future? And, by a strange coincidence, while he + was thinking thus of Felicia, a great white greyhound was bounding up an + alley of green trees on the slopes of the neighbouring garden. It was like + Kadour—the same short hair, the same mouth, red, fierce, and + delicate. Paul, before his open window, was assailed in a moment by all + sorts of visions, sad or charming. Perhaps the beauty of the scene before + his eyes made his thoughts wander. Under the orange-trees and lemon-trees + in rows, laden with their golden fruit, stretched immense fields of + violets in regular and packed beds, separated by little irrigation canals, + whose white stone cut up the exuberant verdure. + </p> + <p> + An exquisite ordour of violets dried in the sun was rising—a hot + boudoir scent, enervating, enfeebling, which called up for de Gery + feminine visions—Aline, Felicia—permeating the fairy-like + landscape, in this blue-charged atmosphere, this heavenly day, which one + might have called the perfume become visible of so many open flowers. The + creaking of a door made him open his eyes. Some one had just gone into the + next room. He heard the rustle of a dress against the thin partition, a + leaf turned in a book which could not be very interesting, for a long sigh + turning into a yawn made him start. Was he still sleeping, dreaming? Had + he not heard the cry of the “jackal in the desert,” so much in keeping + with the burning temperature out of doors? No—nothing more. He fell + asleep again, and this time all the confused images which pursued him + fixed themselves in a dream—a very pleasant dream. + </p> + <p> + He was on his honeymoon with Aline. She was a delicious wife, her clear + eyes full of love and faith, which only knew, only looked at him. In this + very room, on the other side of the partition, she was sitting in white + morning dress, which smelt of violets and of the fine lace of her + trousseau. They were having breakfast—one of those solitary + breakfasts of a honeymoon, served in their bedroom, opposite the blue sea, + and the clear sky, which tinge with azure the glass in which one drinks, + the eyes where one sees one’s self, the future—life—the + distant horizon. Oh! how good it was; what a divine youth-giving light; + how happy they were! + </p> + <p> + And all at once, in the delight of their kisses, Aline became sad. Her + eyes filled with tears. She said to him: “Felicia is there. You will love + me no longer.” And he laughed, “Felicia here? What an idea!” “Yes, yes; + she is there.” Trembling she pointed to the next room, from which came + angry barks, and the voice of Felicia: “Here, Kadour! Here, Kadour!” the + low, concentrated, furious voice of some one who is hiding and suddenly + discovered. + </p> + <p> + Wide awake, the lover, disenchanted, found himself in his empty room, + before an empty table, his dream, fled through the window to the great + hillside. But he heard very distinctly in the next room the bark of a dog, + and hurried knocks on the door. + </p> + <p> + “Open the door! It is I—it is Jenkins.” + </p> + <p> + Paul sat up on his divan, stupefied. Jenkins here? How was that? To whom + was he speaking? What voice was going to answer him? No one answered. A + light step went to the door, and the lock creaked nervously. + </p> + <p> + “Here you are at last,” said the Irishman, entering. + </p> + <p> + And truly if he had not taken care to announce himself, Paul would never + have taken this brutal, violent, hoarse voice heard through the partition + for the doctor’s with his sugary manners. + </p> + <p> + “At last I have found you after a week of searching, of mad rushing from + Genoa to Nice, from Nice to Genoa. I knew that you had not gone, because + the yacht was in the harbour, and I was going to inspect all the inns on + the coast, when I remembered Brehat. I have just come from him. It was he + who told me you were here.” + </p> + <p> + But to whom was he speaking? Who was so singularly obstinate? At last a + beautiful, sad voice, which Paul well knew, made the hot afternoon air + vibrate. + </p> + <p> + “Well, yes, Jenkins, here I am. What is the matter?” + </p> + <p> + Through the wall Paul could see the disdainful mouth, turned down with + disgust. + </p> + <p> + “I have come to prevent you from going—from doing this foolish + thing.” + </p> + <p> + “What foolish thing? I have some work at Tunis. I must go there.” + </p> + <p> + “But you don’t think, my dear child, that—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, enough of your fatherly airs, Jenkins. We know what lies underneath + it. Speak to me as you did just now. I prefer the bull-dog to the spaniel. + I fear it less.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I tell you that you must be mad to go over there alone, young and + beautiful as you are.” + </p> + <p> + “And am I not always alone? Would you like me to take Constance, at her + age?” + </p> + <p> + “Or me?” + </p> + <p> + “You!” She pronounced the word with an ironical laugh. “And what about + Paris? And your patients—deprive society of its Cagliostro? Never, + on any account.” + </p> + <p> + “I have, however, made up my mind to follow you wherever you go,” said + Jenkins resolutely. + </p> + <p> + There was an instant of silence. Paul asked himself if it was worthy of + him to listen to this conversation which was full of terrible revelations. + But in spite of his fatigue an invincible curiosity nailed him to the + spot. It seemed to him that the enigma which had so long been perplexing + and troubling him was going to be solved at last, to show the woman sad or + perverse, concealed by the fashionable artist. He remained there, still + holding his breath, needlessly, however; for the two, believing themselves + to be alone in the hotel, let their passions and their voices rise without + constraint. + </p> + <p> + “Well, what do you want of me?” + </p> + <p> + “I want you.” + </p> + <p> + “Jenkins!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes, I know; you have forbidden me to say such words before you, but + other men than I have said them, and nearer still.” + </p> + <p> + “And if it were so, wretch! If I have not been able to protect myself from + disgust and boredom, if I have lost my pride, is it for you to say a word? + As if you were not the cause of it; as if you had not forever saddened and + darkened my life for me!” + </p> + <p> + And these burning and rapid words revealed to the terrified Paul de Gery + the horrible meaning of this apparently affectionate guardianship, against + which the mind, the thought, the dreams of the young girl had had to + struggle so long, and which had left her the incurable sadness of + precocious regret, the heart-break of a life hardly begun. + </p> + <p> + “I loved you! I love you still! Passion excuses everything,” answered + Jenkins in a hollow voice. + </p> + <p> + “Love me, then, if that amuses you. As for me, I hate you not only for the + wrong you have done me, all the beliefs and energy you have killed in me, + but because you represent what is most execrable, most hideous under the + sun—hypocrisy and lies. This society masquerade, this heap of + falsity, of grimaces, of cowardly and unclean conventions have sickened me + to such an extent, that I am running away exiling myself so as to see them + no longer; rather than them I would have the prison, the sewer, the + streets. And yet it is your deceit, O sublime Jenkins, which horrifies me + most. You have mingled our French hypocrisy, all smiles and politeness, + with your large English shakes of the hand, with your cordial and + demonstrative loyalty. They have all been caught by it. They said, ‘The + good Jenkins; the worthy, honest Jenkins.’ But I—I knew you, and in + spite of your fine motto on the envelopes of your letters, on your seal, + your sleeve-links, your hat-bands, the doors of your carriage, I always + saw the rascal you are.” + </p> + <p> + Her voice hissed through her teeth, clinched by an incredible ferocity of + expression, and Paul expected some furious revolt of Jenkins under so many + insults. But this hate and contempt of the woman he loved must have given + him more sorrow than anger, for he answered softly, in a tone of wounded + gentleness: + </p> + <p> + “Oh! you are cruel. If you knew the pain you are giving me! Hypocrite! + yes, it is true; but I was not born like that. One is forced into it by + the difficulties of life. When one has the wind against one, and wishes to + advance, one tacks. I have tacked. Lay the blame on my miserable + beginnings, my false entry into existence, and agree at least that one + thing in me has never lied—my passion! Nothing has been able to kill + it—neither your disdain, nor your abuse, nor all that I have read in + your eyes, which for so many years have not once smiled at me. It is still + my passion which gives me the strength, even after what I have just heard, + to tell you why I am here. Listen! You told me once that you wanted a + husband—some one who would watch over you during your work, who + would take over some of the duties of the poor Crenmitz. Those were your + own words, which wounded me then because I was not free. Now all that is + changed. Will you marry me, Felicia?” + </p> + <p> + “And your wife?” cried the young girl, while Paul was asking himself the + same question. + </p> + <p> + “My wife is dead.” + </p> + <p> + “Dead? Mme. Jenkins? Is it true?” + </p> + <p> + “You never knew her of whom I speak. The other was not my wife. When I met + her I was already married in Ireland—years before. A horrible forced + marriage. My dear, when I was twenty-five I was confronted with this + alternative: a debtor’s prison or Miss Strang, an ugly and gouty old maid, + sister of the usurer who had lent me five hundred pounds to pay for my + medical studies. I preferred the prison; but after weeks and months I came + to the end of my courage, and I married Miss Strang, who brought me for + dowry—my note of hand. You can guess what my life was between these + two monsters who adored each other. A jealous, impotent wife. The brother + spied on me, following me everywhere. I should have gone away, but one + thing kept me there. The usurer was said to be very rich. I wished to have + some return for my cowardice. You see, I tell you all. Come now, I have + been punished. Old Strang died insolvent; he used to gamble, had ruined + himself without saying a word. Then I put my wife and her rheumatism in a + hospital, and came to France. I had to begin existence again, more + struggles and misery. But I had experience on my side, hatred and contempt + for men, and my newly conquered liberty, for I did not dream that the + horrible weight of this cursed union was going to hinder my getting on, at + that distance. Happily, it is over—I am free.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Jenkins, free. But why do you not make your wife the poor creature + who has shared your life so long, so humble and devoted as she is?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” said he, with an outburst of sincerity, “between my two prisons I + would prefer the other, where I could be frankly indifferent. But the + atrocious comedy of conjugal love, of unwearying happiness, when for so + long I had loved you and thought of you alone! There is not such a torture + on earth. If I can guess, the poor woman must have uttered a cry of relief + and happiness at the separation. It is the only adieu I hoped for from + her.” + </p> + <p> + “But who forced you to such a thing?” + </p> + <p> + “Paris, society, the world. Married by its opinion, we were held by it.” + </p> + <p> + “And now you are held no longer?” + </p> + <p> + “Now something comes before all—it is the idea of losing you, of + seeing you no longer. Oh! when I learned of your flight, when I saw the + bill over your door TO LET, I felt sure that it was all up with poses and + grimaces, that I had nothing else to do but to set out, to run quickly + after my happiness, which you were taking away. You were leaving Paris—I + have left it. Everything of yours was being sold; everything of mine will + be sold.” + </p> + <p> + “And she?” said Felicia trembling. “She, the irreproachable companion, the + honest woman whom no one has ever suspected, where will she go? What will + she do? And it is her place you have just offered me. A stolen place, + think what a hell! Well, and your motto, good Jenkins, virtuous Jenkins, + what shall we do with it? ‘<i>Le bien sans esperance</i>,’ eh!” + </p> + <p> + At this sneer, cutting his face like a whip, the wretch answered panting: + </p> + <p> + “That will do! Do not sneer at me so. It is too horrible now. Does it not + touch you, then, to be loved as I love you in sacrificing everything to + you—fortune, honour, respect? See, look at me. I have snatched my + mask off for you, I have snatched if off before all. And now, see, here is + the hypocrite.” + </p> + <p> + He heard the muffled noise of two knees falling on the floor. And + stammering, distracted with love, weak before her, he begged her to + consent to this marriage, to give him the right to follow her everywhere, + to defend her. Then the words failed him, stifled in a passionate sob, so + deep, so lacerating that it should have touched any heart, above all among + this splendid impassible scenery in this perfumed heat. But Felicia was + not touched. “Let us have done, Jenkins,” said she brusquely. “What you + ask is impossible. We have nothing to hide from each other, and after your + confidences just now, I wish to make one to you, which humbles my pride, + but your degradation makes you worthy. I was Mora’s mistress.” + </p> + <p> + Paul knew this. And yet it was so sad to hear this beautiful, pure voice + laden with such a confession, in the midst of the intoxicating air, that + he felt his heart contract. + </p> + <p> + “I knew it,” answered Jenkins in a low voice, “I have the letters you + wrote to him.” + </p> + <p> + “My letters?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I will give them to you—here. I know them by heart. I have read + and reread them. It is that which hurts one, when one loves. But I have + suffered other tortures. When I think that it was I—” He stopped + himself. He choked. “I who had to furnish fuel for your flames, warm this + frozen lover, send him to you ardent and young—Ah! he has devoured + my pearls—I might refuse over and over again, he was always taking + them. At last I was mad. You wish to burn, wretched woman. Well, burn, + then!” + </p> + <p> + Paul rose to his feet in terror. Was he going to hear the confession of a + crime? But the shame of hearing more was not inflicted on him. A violent + knocking, this time on his own door, warned him that his <i>calesino</i> + was ready. + </p> + <p> + “Is the French gentleman ready?” + </p> + <p> + In the next room there was silence, then a whisper.—There had been + some one near who had heard them.—Paul de Gery hurried downstairs. + He must get out of this room to escape the weight of so much infamy. + </p> + <p> + As the post-chaise swayed, he saw among the common white curtains, which + float at all the windows in the south, a pale figure with the hair of a + goddess, and great burning eyes fixed on him. But a glance at Aline’s + portrait quickly dispelled this disturbing vision, and forever cured of + his old love, he travelled until evening through the magic landscape with + the lovely bride of the <i>dejeuner</i>, who carried in the folds of her + modest robe and mantle all the violets of Bordighera. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0028" id="link2H_4_0028"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE FIRST NIGHT OF “REVOLT” + </h2> + <h3> + “Take your places for the first act!” + </h3> + <p> + The cry of the stage-manager, standing with his hand raised to his mouth + to form a trumpet, at the foot of the staircase behind the scenes, echoes + under the roof, rises and rolls along, to be lost in the depths of + corridors full of the noise of doors banging, of hasty steps, of desperate + calls to the <i>coiffeur</i> and the dressers; while there appear one by + one on the landings of the various floors, slow and majestic, without + moving their heads for fear of disturbing the least detail of their + make-up, all the personages of the first act of <i>Revolt</i>, in elegant + modern ball costumes, with the creaking of new shoes, the silken rustle of + the trains, the jingling of rich bracelets pushed up the arm while gloves + are being buttoned. All these people seem excited, nervous, pale beneath + their paint, and under the skilfully prepared satin-like surface of the + shoulders, tremors flutter like shadows. Dry-mouthed, they speak little. + The least nervous, while affecting to smile, have in their eyes and voice + the hesitation that marks an absent mind—that apprehension of the + battle behind the foot-lights which is ever one of the most powerful + attractions of the comedian’s art, its piquancy, its freshness. + </p> + <p> + The stage is encumbered by the passage to and fro of machinists and + scene-builders hastening about, running into one another in the dim, + pallid light falling from above, which will give place directly, as soon + as the curtain rises, to the dazzling of the foot-lights. Cardailhac is + there in his dress-coat and white tie, his opera hat on one side, giving a + final glance to the arrangement of the scenery, hurrying the workmen, + complimenting the <i>ingenue</i> who is waiting dressed and ready, + beaming, humming an air, looking superb. To see him no one would ever + guess the terrible worries which distract him. He is compromised by the + fall of the Nabob—which entails the loss of his directorate—and + is risking his all on the piece of this evening, obliged, if it be not a + success, to leave the cost of this marvellous scenery, these stuffs at a + hundred francs the yard, unpaid. It is a fourth bankruptcy that stares him + in the face. But, bah! our manager is confident. Success, like all the + monsters that feed on men, loves youth; and this unknown author, whose + name is appearing for the first time on a theatre bill, flatters the + gambler’s superstitions. + </p> + <p> + Andre Maranne feels less confident. As the hour for the production of the + piece approaches he loses faith in his work, terrified by the sight of the + house, at which he looks through the hole in the curtain as through the + narrow lens of a stereoscope. + </p> + <p> + A splendid house, crammed to the roof, notwithstanding the late period of + the spring and the fashionable taste for early departure to the country; a + house that Cardailhac, a declared enemy of nature and the country, + endeavouring always to keep Parisians in Paris till the latest possible + date, has succeeded in crowding and making as brilliant as in midwinter. + Fifteen hundred heads are swarming beneath the great central chandelier, + erect—bent forward—turning round—questioning amid a + great play of shadows and reflections; some massed in the obscure corners + of the floor, others in a bright light reflected through the open doors of + the boxes from the white walls of the corridor; the first-night public + which is always the same, that brigand-like <i>tout Paris</i> which goes + everywhere, carrying those envied places by storm when a favour or a claim + by right of some official position fails to secure them. + </p> + <p> + In the stalls are low-cut waistcoats, clubmen, shining bald heads, wide + partings in scanty hair, light-coloured gloves, big opera-glasses raised + and directed towards various points. In the galleries a mixture of + different social sets and all kinds of dress, all the people well known as + figuring at this kind of solemnity, and the embarrassing promiscuity which + places the modest smile of the virtuous woman along-side of the + black-ringed eyes, the vermilion-painted lips of her who belongs to + another category. White hats, pink hats, diamonds and paint. Above, the + boxes present the same confusion; actresses and women of the demi-monde, + ministers, ambassadors, famous authors, critics—these last wearing a + grave air and frowning brow, sitting crosswise in their <i>fauteuils</i> + with the impassive haughtiness of judges whom nothing can corrupt. The + boxes near the stage especially stand out in the general picture + brilliantly lighted, occupied by celebrities of the financial world, the + women <i>decollete</i> and with bare arms, glittering with jewels like the + Queen of Sheba on her visit to the King of Judea. But on the left, one of + these large boxes, entirely empty, attracts attention by reason of its + curious decoration, lighted from the back by a Moorish lantern. Over the + whole assembly is an impalpable and floating dust, the flickering of the + gas, that odour that mingles with all the pleasures of Paris, its little + sputterings, sharp and quick like the breaths drawn by a consumptive, + accompanying the movement of opened fans. And then, too, <i>ennui</i>, a + gloomy <i>ennui</i>, the <i>ennui</i> of seeing the same faces always in + the same places, with their defects or their poses, that uniformity of + fashionable gatherings which ends by establishing in Paris each winter a + spiteful and gossiping provincialism more petty than that of the provinces + themselves. + </p> + <p> + Maranne observed this ill-humour, this lassitude of the public, and + thinking of all the changes which the success of his play might bring + about in his simple life, he asked himself, full of a great anxiety, what + he could do to bring his ideas home to those thousands of people, to pluck + them away from their preoccupation, and to send through this crowd a + single current which should draw to himself those absent glances, those + minds of every different calibre, so difficult to move to unison. + Instinctively his eyes sought friendly faces, a box facing the stage + occupied by the Joyeuse family; Elise and the younger girls seated in the + front, Aline and the father in the row behind—a charming family + group, like a bouquet wet with dew amid a display of artificial flowers. + And while all Paris was disdainfully asking, “Who are those people there?” + the poet instrusted his fate to those little fairy hands, new gloved for + the occasion, which very soon would boldly give the signal for applause. + </p> + <p> + The curtain is going up! Maranne has barely time to spring into the wings; + and suddenly he hears as from far, very far away, the first words of his + play, which rise, like a flight of timid birds, into the silence and + immensity of the theatre. A terrible moment. Where should he go? What + should he do? Remain there leaning against a wing, with straining ear and + beating heart? Encourage the actors when he himself stood in so much need + of encouragement? He prefers rather to look the peril in the face; and by + the little door communicating with the corridor behind the boxes he slips + out to a corner box, which he orders to be opened for him softly. “Sh! It + is I.” Some one is seated in the shadow—a woman, she whom all Paris + knows and who is hiding herself from the public gaze. Andre sits down by + her side, and so, close to one another, mother and son tremblingly watch + the progress of the play. + </p> + <p> + It astonished the audience at first. This Theatre des Nouveautes, situated + in the very heart of the boulevard, where its portico glitters all + illuminated among the great restaurants of the smart clubs; this theatre, + to which people were accustomed to come in parties after a luxurious + dinner to listen until supper-time to an act or two of some suggestive + piece, had become in the hands of its clever manager the most fashionable + of all Parisian entertainments, without any very precise character of its + own, and partaking something of all, from the fairy-operetta which + exhibits undressed women, to the serious modern drama. Cardailhac was + especially anxious to justify his title of “Manager of the Nouveautes,” + and, since the Nabob’s millions had been at the back of the undertaking, + had made a point of preparing for the boulevardiers the most dazzling + surprises. That of this evening surpassed them all; the piece was in verse—and + moral. + </p> + <p> + A moral play! + </p> + <p> + The old rogue had realized that the moment had arrived to try that effect, + and he was trying it. After the astonishment of the first minutes, a few + disappointed exclamations here and there in the boxes, “Why, it is in + verse!” the house began to feel the charm of this invigorating and healthy + piece, as if there had been sprinkled on it, in its rarefied atmosphere, + some fresh and pungent essence, an elixir of life perfumed with thyme from + the hillside. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! this is nice—it is restful.” + </p> + <p> + Such was the general sense, a thrill of ease, a spasm of pleasure + accompanying each line. That fat old Hemerlingue found it restful, puffing + in his stage-box on the ground floor as in a trough of cerise satin. It + was restful also to that tall Suzanne Bloch, her hair dressed in the + antique way, ringlets flowing over a diadem of gold; and near her, Amy + Ferat, all in white like a bride and with sprigs of orange-blossom in her + fluffy hair, it was restful to her also, you may be sure. + </p> + <p> + A crowd of demi-mondaines were present, some very fat, with a dirty + greasiness acquired in a hundred seraglios, three chins, and an air of + stupidity; others absolutely green in spite of their paint, as if they had + been dipped in a bath of that arsenate of copper which is called in the + shops “Paris green.” These were wrinkled, faded to such a degree that they + hid in the back of their boxes, only allowing a portion of a white arm to + be seen, a rounded shoulder protruding. Then there were young men about + town, flabby and without backbone, those who at that time used to be + called <i>petits creves</i>, creatures worn out by dissipation, with + stooping necks and drooping lids, incapable of standing erect or of + articulating a single word perfectly. And all these people exclaimed with + one accord: “This is nice—it is restful.” The handsome Moessard + murmured it like a refrain beneath his little fair mustache, while his + queen in the stage-box translated it into the barbarism of her foreign + tongue. Positively they found it restful. They did not say after what—after + what heart-breaking labour, after what forced, idle and useless task. + </p> + <p> + All these friendly murmurs, united and mingled, began to give to the house + an eventful appearance. Success was felt in the air, faces became serene + again, the women seemed the more beautiful for reflecting enthusiasm, for + being moved to glances that were as exciting as applause. Andre, at his + mother’s side, thrilled with such an unknown pleasure, with that proud + delight which a man feels when he stirs the multitude, be he only a singer + in a suburban back-yard, with a patriotic refrain and two pathetic notes + in his voice. Suddenly the whisperings redoubled, were transformed into a + tumult. People were chuckling and fidgeting with excitement. What had + happened? Some accident on the stage? Andre, leaning terrified towards the + actors as astonished as himself, saw every opera-glass turned towards the + big stage-box which had remained empty until then, and which some one had + just entered, who sat down immediately with both his elbows on the velvet + ledge, and with his opera-glass drawn from its case, taking his place in + gloomy solitude. + </p> + <p> + In ten days the Nabob had aged twenty years. Violent southern natures like + his, if they are rich in enthusiasms, become also more utterly prostrate + than others. Since his unseating the unfortunate man had shut himself up + in his bedroom, with drawn curtains, no longer wishing even to see the + light of day nor to cross over the threshold beyond which life was waiting + for him, with the engagements he had undertaken, the promises he had made, + a mass of protested bills and writs. The Levantine, gone off to some spa + accompanied by her <i>masseur</i> and her negress, was totally indifferent + to the ruin of the establishment; Bompain—the man in the fez—in + frightened bewilderment amid the demands for money, not knowing how to + approach his ill-starred master, who persistently kept his bed and turned + his face to the wall as soon as business matters were mentioned. His old + mother alone remained behind to face the disaster, with the knowledge born + of her narrow and straitened experience as a village woman, who knows what + a stamped document—a signature—is, and thinks honour is the + greatest and best thing in the world. Her peasant’s cap made its + appearance on every floor of the mansion, examining bills, reforming the + domestic arrangements, and fearing neither outcries or humiliation. At all + hours the good woman might be seen striding about the Place Vendome, + gesticulating, talking to herself, and saying aloud: “<i>Te</i>, I will go + and see the bailiff.” And never did she consult her son about anything + save when it was indispensable, and then only in a few discreet words, + while avoiding even a glance at him. To rouse Jansoulet from his torpor it + had required de Gery’s telegram, dated from Marseilles, announcing that he + was on his way back, bringing ten million francs. Ten millions!—that + is to say, bankruptcy averted, the possibility of recovering his position—of + starting life afresh. And behold our southerner rebounding from the depth + of his fall, intoxicated with joy, and full of hope. He ordered the + windows to be opened and newspapers to be brought to him. What a + magnificent opportunity was this first night of <i>Revolt</i> to show + himself to the Parisians, who were believing him to have gone under, to + enter the great whirlpool once more through the swing door of his box at + the Nouveautes! His mother, warned by some instinct, did indeed try to + hold him back. Paris now terrified her. She would have liked to carry off + her child to some unknown corner of the Midi, to nurse him along with his + elder brother—stricken down both of them by the great city. But he + was the master. Resistance was impossible to that will of a man spoiled by + wealth. She helped him to dress for the occasion, “made him look nice,” as + she said laughing, and watched him not without a certain pride as he + departed, dignified, full of new life, having almost got over the + prostration of the preceding days. + </p> + <p> + After his arrival at the theatre, Jansoulet quickly perceived the + commotion which his presence caused in the house. Accustomed to similar + curious ovations, he acknowledged them ordinarily without the least + embarrassment, with a frank display of his wide and good-natured smile; + but this time the manifestation was hostile, almost indignant. + </p> + <p> + “What! It is he?” + </p> + <p> + “There he is.” + </p> + <p> + “What impudence!” + </p> + <p> + Such exclamations from the stalls confusedly rose among many others. The + retirement in which he had taken refuge for some days past had left him in + ignorance of the public exasperation, of the homilies, the statements + broadcast in the newspapers, with the corrupting influence of his wealth + as their text—articles written for effect, hypocritical phraseology + by the aid of which opinion avenges itself from time to time on the + innocent for all its own concessions to the guilty. It was a terribly + embarrassing exhibition, which gave him at first more sorrow than anger. + Deeply moved, he hid his emotion behind his opera-glass, fixing his + attention on the least details of the stage arrangements, giving a + three-quarters view of his back to the house, but unable to escape the + scandalous observation of which he was the victim and which made his ears + buzz, his temples beat, the dulled lenses of his opera-glass become full + of those whirling multi-coloured circles which are the first symptom of + brain disorder. + </p> + <p> + When the curtain fell at the end of the first act he remained motionless, + in the same attitude of embarrassment; the whisperings, now more distinct + when they were no longer held in check by the dialogue on the stage, the + pertinacity of certain inquisitive people changing their places in order + to get a better view of him, obliged him to leave his box and to beat a + hurried retreat into the corridors, like a wild beast escaping across a + circus from the arena. Beneath the low ceiling in the narrow circular + passage of the theatre corridors, he found himself suddenly in the midst + of a dense crowd of emasculate youths, journalists, tightly laced women + wearing their hats, laughing as part of their trade, their backs against + the wall. From box-doors opened for air, mixed and disjointed fragments of + conversation were escaping: + </p> + <p> + “A delightful piece. It is fresh; it is good.” + </p> + <p> + “That Nabob! What impudence!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, indeed, it is restful. One feels better for it.” + </p> + <p> + “How is it that he has not yet been arrested?” + </p> + <p> + “Quite a young man, it seems. It is his first play.” + </p> + <p> + “Bois l’Hery at Mazas! It is impossible. Why, there is the marquise + opposite, in the balcony, with a new hat.” + </p> + <p> + “What does that prove? She is at her business as a stager of new fashions. + It is very pretty, that hat. In Desgrange’s racing colours.” + </p> + <p> + “And Jenkins? What is Jenkins doing?” + </p> + <p> + “At Tunis, with Felicia. Old Brahim has seen them both. It seems that the + Bey has begun to take the pearls.” + </p> + <p> + “The deuce he has!” + </p> + <p> + Farther along, soft voices were murmuring: + </p> + <p> + “Yes, father, do, do go speak to him. See how lonely he looks, poor man!” + </p> + <p> + “But, children, I do not know him.” + </p> + <p> + “Never mind. Just a bow. Something to show him that he is not utterly + deserted.” + </p> + <p> + Thereupon the little old gentleman, very red in the face and wearing a + white tie, stepped quickly in front of the Nabob, and ceremoniously raised + his hat to him with great respect. With what gratitude, what a smile of + eager good-will was that solitary greeting returned, that greeting from a + man whom Jansoulet did not know, whom he had never seen, and who had yet + exerted a weighty influence upon his destiny; for, but for the <i>pere</i> + Joyeuse, the chairman of the board of the Territorial would probably have + shared the fate of the Marquis de Bois l’Hery. Thus it is that in the + tangle of modern society, that great web of interests, ambitions, services + accepted and rendered, all the various worlds are connected, united + beneath the surface, from the highest existences to the most humble; this + it is that explains the variegation, the complexity of this study of + manners, the collection of the scattered threads of which the writer who + is careful of truth is bound to make the background of his story. + </p> + <p> + In ten minutes the Nabob had been subjected to every manifestation of the + terrible ostracism of that Paris world to which he had neither + relationship nor serious ties, and whose contempt isolated him more surely + than a visiting monarch is isolated by respect—the averted look, the + apparently aimless step aside, the hat suddenly put on and pulled down + over the eyes. Overcome by embarrassment and shame, he stumbled. Some one + said quite loudly, “He is drunk,” and all that the poor man could manage + to do was to return and shut himself up in the salon at the back of his + box. Ordinarily, this little retreat was crowded during the intervals + between the acts by stock-brokers and journalists. They laughed and smoked + and made a great noise; the manager would come to greet his sleeping + partner. But on this evening there was nobody. And the absence of + Cardailhac, with his keen nose for success, signified fully to Jansoulet + the measure of his disgrace. + </p> + <p> + “What have I done? Why will Paris have no more of me?” + </p> + <p> + Thus he questioned himself amid a solitude that was accentuated by the + noises around, the abrupt turning of keys in the doors of the boxes, the + thousand exclamations of an amused crowd. Then suddenly, the freshness of + his luxurious surroundings, the Moorish lantern casting strange shadows on + the brilliant silks of the divan and walls, reminded him of the date of + his arrival. Six months! Only six months since he came to Paris! + Completely done for and ruined in six months! He sank into a kind of + torpor, from which he was roused by the sound of applause and enthusiastic + bravos. It was decidedly a great success—this play <i>Revolt</i>. + There were some passages of strength and satire, and the violent tirades, + a trifle over-emphatic but written with youth and sincerity, excited the + audience after the idyllic calm of the opening. Jansoulet in his turn + wished to hear and see. This theatre belonged to him after all. His place + in that stage-box had cost him over a million francs; the very least he + could do was to occupy it. + </p> + <p> + So he seated himself in the front of his box. In the theatre the heat was + suffocating in spite of the fans which were vigorously at work, throwing + reflections from their bright spangles through the impalpable atmosphere + of silence. The house was listening religiously to an indignant and lofty + denunciation of the scamps who occupied exalted positions, after having + robbed their fellows in those depths from which they were sprung. + Certainly, Maranne when he wrote these fine lines had been far from having + the Nabob in his mind. But the public saw an allusion in them; and while a + triple salvo of applause greeted the conclusion of the speech, all heads + were turned towards the stage-box on the left with an indignant, openly + offensive movement. The poor wretch, pilloried in his own theatre! A + pillory which had cost him so dear! This time he made no attempt to escape + the insult, but settled himself resolutely in his seat, with arms folded, + and braved the crowd that was staring at him—those hundreds of faces + raised in mockery, that virtuous <i>tout Paris</i> which had seized upon + him as a scapegoat and was driving him into the wilderness, after having + laden him with the burden of all its own crimes. + </p> + <p> + A pretty gang, truly, for a manifestation of that kind! Opposite, the box + of a bankrupt banker, the wife and her lover sitting next each other in + the front row, the husband behind in the shadow, voluntarily inconspicuous + and solemn. Near them the frequent trio of a mother who has married her + daughter in accordance with the personal inclination of her own heart, in + order to make a son-in-law of her lover. Then irregular households, + courtesans exhibiting the price of shame, diamonds like circlets of fire + riveted around arms and neck. And those groups of emasculate youths, with + their open collars and painted eyebrows, whose shirts of embroidered + cambric and white satin corsets people used to admire in the + guest-chambers at Compiegne; those <i>mignons</i>, of the time of Agrippa, + calling each other among themselves: “My heart—My dear girl.” An + assemblage of all the scandals, all the turpitudes, consciences sold or + for sale, the vice of an epoch devoid of greatness and without + originality, intent on making trial of the caprices of every other age. + </p> + <p> + And these were the people who were insulting him and crying: “Away with + thee, thou art unworthy!” + </p> + <p> + “Unworthy—I! But my worth is a hundred times greater than that of + any among you, wretches that you are! You make my millions a reproach to + me, but who has helped me to spend them? Thou, cowardly and treacherous + comrade, who hidest thy sick pasha-like obesity in the corner of thy + stage-box! I made thy fortune along with my own in the days when we shared + all things in brotherly community. Thou, pale marquis—I paid a + hundred thousand francs at the club in order to save thee from shameful + expulsion! + </p> + <p> + “Thee I covered with jewels, hussy, letting thee pass for my mistress, + because that kind of thing makes a good impression in our world—but + without ever asking thee anything in return. And thou, brazen-faced + journalist, who for brain hast all the dirty sediment of thy inkstand, and + on thy conscience as many spots as thy queen has on her skin, thou + thinkest that I have not paid thee thy price and that is why thy insults + are heaped on me. Yes, yes; stare at me, you vermin! I am proud. My worth + is above yours.” + </p> + <p> + All that he was thus saying to himself mentally, in an ungovernable rage, + visible in the quivering of his pale, thick lips. The unfortunate man, who + was nearly mad, was about perhaps to shout it aloud in the silence, to + denounce that insulting crowd—who knows?—to spring into the + midst of it, kill one of them—ah! kill <i>one</i> of them—when + he felt a light tap on his shoulder, and a fair head came before his eyes, + serious and frank, two hands held out, which he grasped convulsively, like + a drowning man. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! dear friend, dear—” the poor man stammered. But he had not the + strength to say more. This emotion of joy coming suddenly in the midst of + his fury melted him into a sobbing torrent of tears, and stifled words. + His face became purple. He motioned “Take me away.” And, stumbling in his + walk, leaning on de Gery’s arm, he only managed to cross the threshold of + his box before he fell prostrate in the corridor. + </p> + <p> + “Bravo! Bravo!” cried the house in reply to the speech which the actor had + just finished; and there was a noise like a hailstorm, and stamping of + enthusiastic feet while the great lifeless body, raised with difficulty by + the scene-shifters, was carried through the brightly lighted wings, + crowded with people pressing in their curiosity round the stage, excited + by the atmosphere of success and who hardly noticed the passage of the + inert and vanquished man, borne on men’s arms like some victim of a riot. + They laid him on a couch in the room where the properties were stored, + Paul de Gery at his side, with a doctor and two porters who eagerly lent + all the assistance in their power. Cardailhac, extremely busy over his + play, had sent word that he should come to hear the news “directly, after + the fifth act.” + </p> + <p> + Bleeding after bleeding, cuppings, mustard leaves—nothing brought + even a quiver to the skin of the patient, insensible apparently to all the + remedies usually employed in cases of apoplexy. The whole being seemed to + be surrendering to death, to be preparing the way for the rigidity of the + corpse; and this in the most sinister place in the world, this chaos, + lighted by a lantern merely, amid which there lie about pell-mell in the + dust all the remains of former plays—gilt furniture, curtains with + gay fringes, coaches, boxes, card-tables, dismantled staircases and + balusters, among ropes and pulleys, a confusion of out-of-date theatrical + properties, thrown down, broken, and damaged. Bernard Jansoulet, as he lay + among this wreckage, his shirt opened over his chest, pale and covered + with blood, was indeed a man come to the shipwreck of his life, bruised + and tossed aside along with the pitiful ruins of his artificial luxury + dispersed and broken up, in the whirlpool of Paris. Paul, with aching + heart, contemplated the scene sadly, that face with its short nose, + preserving in its inertia the savage yet kindly expression of an + inoffensive creature that tried to defend itself before it died and had + not time to bite. He reproached himself bitterly with his inability to be + of any service to him. Where was that fine project of leading Jansoulet + across the bogs, of guarding him against ambushes? All that he had been + able to do had been to save a few millions for him, and even these had + come too late. + </p> + <p> + The windows had just been thrown open upon the curved balcony over the + boulevard, now at the height of its noisy and brilliant stir. The theatre + was surrounded by, as it were, a plinth of gas-jets, a zone of fire which + brought the gloomiest recesses into light, pricked out with revolving + lanterns, like stars journeying through a dark sky. The play was over. + People were coming out. The black and dense crowd on the steps was + dispersing over the white pavements, on its way to spread through the town + the news of a great success and the name of an unknown author who + to-morrow would be triumphant and famous. A splendid evening, so that the + windows of the restaurants were lighted up in gaiety and files of + carriages passed through the streets at a late hour. This tumult of + festivity which the poor Nabob had loved so keenly, which seemed to go so + well with the dizzy whirl of his existence, roused him to life for a + moment. His lips moved, and into his dilated eyes, turned towards de Gery, + there came before he died a pained expression, beseeching and protesting, + as though to call upon him as witness of one of the greatest and most + cruel acts of injustice that Paris has ever committed. + </p> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Nabob, by Alphonse Daudet + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE NABOB *** + +***** This file should be named 2077-h.htm or 2077-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/0/7/2077/ + +Produced by Dagny, John Bickers, and David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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