The Lesser Bourgeoisie - Honore de Balzac (speld decodable readers .TXT) 📗

murdered some one?" she thought, replying to his question by a

nod.

 

Theodose, thankful to seize even this branch of willow, drew a chair

beside Flavie's sofa, and there gave way to sobs that might have

touched the oldest judge, while torrents of tears began to flow from

his eyes.

 

Flavie rose and left the room to say to her maid: "I am not at home to

any one." Then she closed all doors and returned to Theodose, moved to

the utmost pitch of maternal solicitude. She found him stretched out,

his head thrown back, and weeping. He had taken out his handkerchief,

and when Flavie tried to move it from his face it was heavy with

tears.

 

"But what is the matter?" she asked; "what ails you?"

 

Nature, more impressive than art, served Theodose well; no longer was

he playing a part; he was himself; this nervous crisis and these tears

were the winding up of his preceding scenes of acted comedy.

 

"You are a child," she said, in a gentle voice, stroking his hair

softly.

 

"I have but you, you only, in all the world!" he replied, kissing her

hands with a sort of passion; "and if you are true to me, if you are

mine, as the body belongs to the soul and the soul to the body,

then--" he added, recovering himself with infinite grace, "_Then_ I

can have courage."

 

He rose, and walked about the room.

 

"Yes, I will struggle; I will recover my strength, like Antaeus, from

a fall; I will strangle with my own hands the serpents that entwine

me, that kiss with serpent kisses, that slaver my cheeks, that suck my

blood, my honor! Oh, misery! oh, poverty! Oh, how great are they who

can stand erect and carry high their heads! I had better have let

myself die of hunger, there, on my wretched pallet, three and a half

years ago! A coffin is a softer bed to lie in than the life I lead! It

is eighteen months that I have _fed on bourgeois_! and now, at the

moment of attaining an honest, fortunate life, a magnificent future,

at the moment when I was about to sit down to the social banquet, the

executioner strikes me on the shoulder! Yes, the monster! he struck me

there, on my shoulder, and said to me: 'Pay thy dues to the devil, or

die!' And shall I not crush them? Shall I not force my arm down their

throats to their very entrails? Yes, yes, I will, I will! See, Flavie,

my eyes are dry now. Ha, ha! now I laugh; I feel my strength come back

to me; power is mine! Oh! say that you love me; say it again! At this

moment it sounds like the word 'Pardon' to the man condemned to

death!"

 

"You are terrible, my friend!" cried Flavie. "Oh! you are killing me."

 

She understood nothing of all this, but she fell upon the sofa,

exhausted by the spectacle. Theodose flung himself at her feet.

 

"Forgive me! forgive me!" he said.

 

"But what is the matter? what is it?" she asked again.

 

"They are trying to destroy me. Oh! promise to give me Celeste, and

you shall see what a glorious life I will make you share. If you

hesitate--very good; that is saying you will be wholly mine, and I

will have you!"

 

He made so rapid a movement that Flavie, terrified, rose and moved

away.

 

"Oh! my saint!" he cried, "at thy feet I fall--a miracle! God is for

me, surely! A flash of light has come to me--an idea--suddenly! Oh,

thanks, my good angel, my grand Saint-Theodose! thou hast saved me!"

 

Flavie could not help admiring that chameleon being; one knee on the

floor, his hands crossed on his breast, and his eyes raised to heaven

in religious ecstasy, he recited a prayer; he was a fervent Catholic;

he reverently crossed himself. It was fine; like the vision of

Saint-Jerome.

 

"Adieu!" he said, with a melancholy look and a moving tone of voice.

 

"Oh!" cried Flavie, "leave me this handkerchief."

 

Theodose rushed away like one possessed, sprang into the street, and

darted towards the Thuilliers', but turned, saw Flavie at her window,

and made her a little sign of triumph.

 

"What a man!" she thought to herself.

 

"Dear, good friend," he said to Thuillier, in a calm and gentle,

almost caressing voice, "we have fallen into the hands of atrocious

scoundrels. But I mean to read them a lesson."

 

"What has happened?" asked Brigitte.

 

"They want twenty-five thousand francs, and, in order to get the

better of us, the notary, or his accomplices, have determined to bid

in the property. Thuillier, put five thousand francs in your pocket

and come with me; I will secure that house to you. I am making myself

implacable enemies!" he cried; "they are seeking to destroy me

morally. But all I ask is that you will disregard their infamous

calumnies and feel no change of heart to me. After all, what is it? If

I succeed, you will only have paid one hundred and twenty-five

thousand francs for the house instead of one hundred and twenty."

 

"Provided the same thing doesn't happen again," said Brigitte,

uneasily, her eyes dilating under the effect of a violent suspicion.

 

"Preferred creditors have alone the right to bid in property, and as,

in this case, there is but one, and he has used that right, we are

safe. The amount of his claim is really only two thousand francs, but

there are lawyers, attorneys, and so forth, to pay in such matters,

and we shall have to drop a note of a thousand francs to make the

creditor happy."

 

"Go, Thuillier," said Brigitte, "get your hat and gloves, and take the

money--from you know where."

 

"As I paid those fifteen thousand francs without success, I don't wish

to have any more money pass through my hands. Thuillier must pay it

himself," said Theodose, when he found himself alone with Brigitte.

"You have, however, gained twenty thousand on the contract I enabled

you to make with Grindot, who thought he was serving the notary, and

you own a piece of property which in five years will be worth nearly a

million. It is what is called a 'boulevard corner.'"

 

Brigitte listened uneasily, precisely like a cat which hears a mouse

within the wall. She looked Theodose straight in the eye, and, in

spite of the truth of his remarks, doubts possessed her.

 

"What troubles you, little aunt?"

 

"Oh! I shall be in mortal terror until that property is securely

ours."

 

"You would be willing to give twenty thousand francs, wouldn't you,"

said Theodose, "to make sure that Thuillier was what we call, in law,

'owner not dispossessable' of that property? Well, then, remember that

I have saved you twice that amount."

 

"Where are we going?" asked Thuillier, returning.

 

"To Maitre Godeschal! We must employ him as our attorney."

 

"But we refused him for Celeste."

 

"Well, that's one reason for going to him," replied Theodose. "I have

taken his measure; he's a man of honor, and he'll think it a fine

thing to do you a service."

 

Godeschal, now Derville's successor, had formerly been, for more than

two years, head-clerk with Desroches. Theodose, to whom that

circumstance was known, seemed to hear the name flung into his ear in

the midst of his despair by an inward voice, and he foresaw a

possibility of wrenching from the hands of Claparon the weapon with

which Cerizet had threatened him. He must, however, in the first

instance, gain an entrance to Desroches, and get some light on the

actual situation of his enemies. Godeschal, by reason of the intimacy

still existing between the former clerk and his old master, could be

his go-between. When the attorneys of Paris have ties like those which

bound Godeschal and Desroches together, they live in true fraternity,

and the result is a facility in arranging any matters which are, as

one may say, arrangeable. They obtain from one another, on the ground

of reciprocity, all possible concessions by the application of the

proverb, "Pass me the rhubarb, and I'll pass you the senna," which is

put in practice in all professions, between ministers, soldiers,

judges, business men; wherever, in short, enmity has not raised

barriers too strong and high between the parties.

 

"I gain a pretty good fee out of this compromise," is a reason that

needs no expression in words: it is visible in the gesture, the tone,

the glance; and as attorneys and solicitors meet constantly on this

ground, the matter, whatever it is, is arranged. The counterpoise of

this fraternal system is found in what we may call professional

conscience. The public must believe the physician who says, giving

medical testimony, "This body contains arsenic"; nothing is supposed

to exceed the integrity of the legislator, the independence of the

cabinet minister. In like manner, the attorney of Paris says to his

brother lawyer, good-humoredly, "You can't obtain that; my client is

furious," and the other answers, "Very good; I must do without it."

 

Now, la Peyrade, a shrewd man, had worn his legal gown about the

Palais long enough to know how these judicial morals might be made to

serve his purpose.

 

"Sit in the carriage," he said to Thuillier, when they reached the rue

Vivienne, where Godeschal was now master of the practice he had

formerly served as clerk. "You needn't show yourself until he

undertakes the affair."

 

It was eleven o'clock at night; la Peyrade was not mistaken in

supposing that he should find a newly fledged master of a practice in

his office at that hour.

 

"To what do I owe this visit, monsieur?" said Godeschal, coming

forward to meet the barrister.

 

Foreigners, provincials, and persons in high society may not be aware

that barristers are to attorneys what generals are to marshals. There

exists a line of demarcation, strictly maintained, between the order

of barristers and the guild of attorneys and solicitors in Paris.

However venerable an attorney may be, however capable and strong in

his profession, he must go to the barrister. The attorney is the

administrator, who maps out the plan of the campaign, collects the

munitions of war, and puts the force in motion; the barrister gives

battle. It is not known why the law gives a man two men to defend him

any more than it is known why an author is forced to have both printer

and publisher. The rules of the bar forbid its members to do any act

belonging to the guild of attorneys. It is very rare that a barrister

puts his foot in an attorney's office; the two classes meet in the

law-courts. In society, there is no barrier between them, and some

barristers, those in la Peyrade's situation particularly, demean

themselves by calling occasionally on attorneys, though even these

cases are rare, and are usually excused by some special urgency.

 

"I have come on important business," replied la Peyrade; "it concerns,

especially, a question of delicacy which you and I ought to solve

together. Thuillier is below, in a carriage, and I have come up to see

you, not as a barrister, but as his friend. You are in a position to

do him an immense service; and I have told him that you have too noble

a soul (as a worthy successor of our great Derville must have) not to

put your utmost capacity at his orders. Here's the affair."

 

After explaining, wholly to his own advantage, the swindling trick

which must, he said, be met with caution and ability, the barrister

developed his plan of campaign.

 

"You ought, my dear maitre, to go this very evening to Desroches,

explain the whole plot and persuade him to send to-morrow for his

client, this Sauvaignou. We'll confess the fellow between us, and if

he wants a note for a thousand francs over and above the amount of his

claim, we'll let him have it; not counting the five hundred for you

and as much more for Desroches, provided Thuillier receives the

relinquishment of his claim by ten o'clock to-morrow morning. What

does this Sauvaignou want? Nothing but money. Well, a haggler like

that won't resist the attraction of an extra thousand francs,

especially if he is only the instrument of a cupidity behind him. It

is no matter to us how he fights it out with those who prompt him.

Now, then, do you think you can get the Thuillier family out of this?"

 

"I'll go and see Desroches at once," said Godeschal.

 

"Not before Thuillier gives you a power of attorney and five hundred

francs. The money should be on the table in a case like this."

 

After the interview with Thuillier was over, la Peyrade took Godeschal

in the carriage to the rue du Bethizy, where Desroches lived,

explaining that it was on their way back to the rue Saint-Dominique

d'Enfer. When they stopped at Desroches's door la Peyrade made an

appointment with Godeschal to meet him there the next morning at seven

o'clock.

 

La Peyrade's whole future and fortune lay in the outcome