The Brotherhood of Consolation - Honoré de Balzac (best free ebook reader for android txt) 📗

had been admitted for six years. Nevertheless, he ended by blaming himself for his curiosity. He even felt that the sentiment, natural as it was, would cease as he went on exercising his beneficent ministry, from the mere fact of seeing more distressed homes and many sorrows.

Such agents do reach in time a divine serenity which nothing surprises or confounds; just as in love we come to the divine quietude of that emotion, sure of its strength, sure of its lastingness, through our constant experience of its pains and sweetnesses.

Godefroid was told that Halpersohn had returned during the night, but had been obliged to go out at once to visit patients who were awaiting him. The porter told Godefroid to come the next day before nine o'clock in the morning.

Remembering Monsieur Alain's injunction to parsimony in his personal expenses, Godefroid dined for twenty-five sous in the rue de Tournon, and was rewarded for his abnegation by finding himself in the midst of compositors and pressmen. He heard a discussion on costs of manufacturing, and learned that an edition of one thousand copies of an octavo volume of forty sheets did not cost more than thirty sous a copy, in the best style of printing. He resolved to ascertain the price at which publishers of law books sold their volumes, so as to be prepared for a discussion with the men who held Monsieur Bernard in their clutches if he should have to meet them.

Towards seven in the evening he returned to the boulevard du Mont-Parnasse, by way of the rue de Vaugiraud and the rue de l'Ouest, and he saw then how deserted the quarter was, for he met no one. It is true that the cold was rigorous, and the snow fell in great flakes, the wheels of the carriages making no noise upon the pavements.

"Ah, here you are, monsieur!" said Madame Vauthier. "If I had known you were coming home so early I would have made your fire."

"I don't want one," said Godefroid, seeing that the widow followed him. "I shall spend the evening in Monsieur Bernard's apartment."

"Well, well! you must be his cousin, if you are hand and glove like that! Perhaps monsieur will finish now the little conversation we began."

"Ah, yes!--about that four hundred francs. Look here, my good Madame Vauthier, you are trying to see which way the cat jumps, and you'll tumble yourself between two stools. As for me, you have betrayed me, and made me miss the whole affair."

"Now, don't think that, my dear monsieur. To-morrow, while you breakfast--"

"To-morrow I shall not breakfast here. I am going out, like your authors, at cock-crow."

Godefroid's antecedents, his life as a man of the world and a journalist, served him in this, that he felt quite sure, unless he took this tone, that Barbet's spy would warn the old publisher of danger, and probably lead to active measures under which Monsieur Bernard would before long be arrested; whereas, if he left the trio of harpies to suppose that their scheme ran no risk of defeat, they would keep quiet.

But Godefroid did not yet know Parisian human nature when embodied in a Vauthier. That woman resolved to have Godefroid's money and Barbet's too. She instantly ran off to her proprietor, while Godefroid changed his clothes in order to present himself properly before the daughter of Monsieur Bernard.


XV. AN EVENING WITH VANDA

Eight o'clock was striking from the convent of the Visitation, the clock of the quarter, when the inquisitive Godefroid tapped gently at his neighbor's door. Auguste opened it. As it happened to be a Saturday, the young lad had his evening to himself. Godefroid beheld him in a little sack-coat of black velvet, a blue silk cravat, and black trousers. But his surprise at the youth's appearance, so different from that of this outside life, ceased as soon as he had entered the invalid's chamber. He then understood the reason why both father and son were well dressed.

For a moment the contrast between the squalor of the other rooms, as he had seen them that morning, and the luxury of this chamber, was so great that Godefroid was dazzled, though habituated for years to the luxury and elegance procured by wealth.

The walls of the room were hung with yellow silk, relieved by twisted fringes of a bright green, giving a gay and cheerful aspect to the chamber, the cold tiled floor of which was hidden by a moquette carpet with a white ground strewn with flowers. The windows, draped by handsome curtains lined with white silk, were like conservatories, so full were they of plants in flower. The blinds were lowered, which prevented this luxury, so rare in that quarter of the town, from being seen from the street. The woodwork was painted in white enamel, touched up, here and there, by a few gold lines.

At the door was a heavy portiere, embroidered by hand with fantastic foliage on a yellow ground, so thick that all sounds from without were stifled. This magnificent curtain was made by the sick woman herself, who could work, when she had the use of her hands, like a fairy.

At the farther end of the room, and opposite to the door, was the fireplace, with a green velvet mantel-shelf, on which a few extremely elegant ornaments, the last relics of the opulence of two families, were arranged. These consisted of a curious clock, in the shape of an elephant supporting on its back a porcelain tower which was filled with the choicest flowers; two candelabra in the same style, and several precious Chinese treasures. The fender, andirons, tongs, and shovel were all of the handsomest description.

The largest of the flower-stands was placed in the middle of the room, and above it hung a porcelain chandelier designed with wreaths of flowers.

The bed on which the old man's daughter lay was one of those beautiful white and gold carved bedsteads such as were made in the Louis XV. period. By the sick woman's pillow was a very pretty marquetry table, on which were the various articles necessary to this bedridden life. Against the wall was a bracket lamp with two branches, either of which could be moved forward or back by a mere touch of the hand. A small table, adapted to the use of the invalid, extended in front of her. The bed, covered with a beautiful counterpane, and draped with curtains held back by cords, was heaped with books, a work-basket, and articles of embroidery, beneath which Godefroid would scarcely have distinguished the sick woman herself had it not been for the light of the bracket lamps.

There was nothing of her to be seen but a face of extreme whiteness, browned around the eyes by suffering, in which shone eyes of fire, its principal adornment being a magnificent mass of black hair, the numerous heavy curls of which, carefully arranged, showed that the dressing of those beautiful locks occupied a good part of the invalid's morning. This supposition was further strengthened by the portable mirror which lay on the bed.

No modern arrangement for comfort was lacking. Even a few knick-knacks, which amused poor Vanda, proved that the father's love was almost fanatical.

The old man rose from an elegant Louis XV. sofa in white and cold, covered with tapestry, and advanced to Godefroid, who would certainly not have recognized him elsewhere; for that cold, stern face now wore the gay expression peculiar to old men of the world, who retain the manners and apparent frivolity of the nobility about a court. His wadded violet gown was in keeping with this luxury, and he took snuff from a gold box studded with diamonds.

"Here, my dear daughter," said Monsieur Bernard, taking Godefroid by the hand, "is the neighbor of whom I told you."

He signed to his grandson to draw up one of two armchairs, similar in style to the sofa, which stood beside the fireplace.

"Monsieur's name is Godefroid, and he is full of friendly kindness for us."

Vanda made a motion with her head in answer to Godefroid's low bow; by the very way in which her neck bent and then recovered itself, Godefroid saw that the whole physical life of the invalid was in her head. The thin arms and flaccid hands lay on the fine, white linen of the sheets, like things not connected with the body, which, indeed, seemed to fill no place at all in the bed. The articles necessary for a sick person were on shelves standing behind the bedstead, and were concealed by a drawn curtain.

"You are the first person, monsieur,--except my doctors, who are not men to me,--whom I have seen for six years; therefore you cannot doubt the interest you have excited in my mind, since my father told me this morning that you were to pay me a visit--interest! no, it was an unconquerable curiosity, like that of our mother Eve. My father, who is so good to me, and my son, whom I love so much, do certainly suffice to fill the desert of a soul which is almost without a body; but after all, that soul is still a woman's; I feel it in the childish joy the thought of your visit has brought me. You will do me the pleasure to take a cup of tea with us, I hope?"

"Monsieur has promised to pass the evening here," said the old man, with the air of a millionnaire receiving a guest.

Auguste, sitting on a tapestried chair at a marquetry table with brass trimmings, was reading a book by the light of the candelabra on the chimney piece.

"Auguste, my dear," said his mother, "tell Jean to serve tea in an hour. Would you believe it monsieur," she added, "that for six years I have been waited upon wholly by my father and son, and now, I really think, I could bear no other attendance. If they were to fail me I should die. My father will not even allow Jean, a poor Norman who has served us for thirty years, to come into my room."

"I should think not!" said the old man, quickly; "monsieur knows him; he chops wood and brings it in, and cooks; he wears dirty aprons, and would soon spoil all this elegance in which you take such pleasure--this room is really the whole of life to my poor daughter, monsieur."

"Ah! madame, your father is quite right."

"But why?" she said; "if Jean did any damage to my room my father would restore it."

"Yes, my child; but remember you could not leave it; you don't know what Parisian tradesmen are; they would take three months to renovate your room. Let Jean take care of it? no, indeed! how can you think of it? Auguste and I take such precautions that we allow no dust, and so avoid all sweeping."

"It is a matter of health, not economy," said Godefroid; "your father is right."

"I am not complaining," said Vanda, in a caressing voice.

That voice was a concert of delightful sounds. Soul, motion, life itself were concentrated in the glance and in the voice of this woman; for Vanda had succeeded by study, for which time was certainly not lacking to her, in conquering the difficulty produced by the loss of her teeth.

"I have much to make me happy in the midst of my sufferings, monsieur," she said; "and certainly ample means are a great help in bearing trouble. If we had been poor I should have died eighteen years ago, but I still live. Oh, yes, I