Scenes from a Courtesan's Life - Honoré de Balzac (philippa perry book .txt) 📗

of the Nucingens. If a speculator blows his brains out, if a stockbroker bolts, if a lawyer makes off with the fortune of a hundred families--which is far worse than killing a man--if a banker is insolvent, all these catastrophes are forgotten in Paris in few months, and buried under the oceanic surges of the great city.

The colossal fortunes of Jacques Coeur, of the Medici, of the Angos of Dieppe, of the Auffredis of la Rochelle, of the Fuggers, of the Tiepolos, of the Corners, were honestly made long ago by the advantages they had over the ignorance of the people as to the sources of precious products; but nowadays geographical information has reached the masses, and competition has so effectually limited the profits, that every rapidly made fortune is the result of chance, or of a discovery, or of some legalized robbery. The lower grades of mercantile enterprise have retorted on the perfidious dealings of higher commerce, especially during the last ten years, by base adulteration of the raw material. Wherever chemistry is practised, wine is no longer procurable; the vine industry is consequently waning. Manufactured salt is sold to avoid the excise. The tribunals are appalled by this universal dishonesty. In short, French trade is regarded with suspicion by the whole world, and England too is fast being demoralized.

With us the mischief has its origin in the political situation. The Charter proclaimed the reign of Money, and success has become the supreme consideration of an atheistic age. And, indeed, the corruption of the higher ranks is infinitely more hideous, in spite of the dazzling display and specious arguments of wealth, than that ignoble and more personal corruption of the inferior classes, of which certain details lend a comic element--terrible, if you will--to this drama. The Government, always alarmed by a new idea, has banished these materials of modern comedy from the stage. The citizen class, less liberal than Louis XIV., dreads the advent of its _Mariage de Figaro_, forbids the appearance of a political _Tartuffe_, and certainly would not allow _Turcaret_ to be represented, for Turcaret is king. Consequently, comedy has to be narrated, and a book is now the weapon--less swift, but no more sure--that writers wield.

In the course of this morning, amid the coming and going of callers, orders to be given, and brief interviews, making Nucingen's private office a sort of financial lobby, one of his stockbrokers announced to him the disappearance of a member of the Company, one of the richest and cleverest too--Jacques Falleix, brother of Martin Falleix, and the successor of Jules Desmarets. Jacques Falleix was stockbroker in ordinary to the house of Nucingen. In concert with du Tillet and the Kellers, the Baron had plotted the ruin of this man in cold blood, as if it had been the killing of a Passover lamb.

"He could not hafe helt on," replied the Baron quietly.

Jacques Falleix had done them immense service in stock-jobbing. During a crisis a few months since he had saved the situation by acting boldly. But to look for gratitude from a money-dealer is as vain as to try to touch the heart of the wolves of the Ukraine in winter.

"Poor fellow!" said the stockbroker. "He so little anticipated such a catastrophe, that he had furnished a little house for his mistress in the Rue Saint-Georges; he has spent one hundred and fifty thousand francs in decorations and furniture. He was so devoted to Madame du Val-Noble! The poor woman must give it all up. And nothing is paid for."

"Goot, goot!" thought Nucingen, "dis is de very chance to make up for vat I hafe lost dis night!--He hafe paid for noting?" he asked his informant.

"Why," said the stockbroker, "where would you find a tradesman so ill informed as to refuse credit to Jacques Falleix? There is a splendid cellar of wine, it would seem. By the way, the house is for sale; he meant to buy it. The lease is in his name.--What a piece of folly! Plate, furniture, wine, carriage-horses, everything will be valued in a lump, and what will the creditors get out of it?"

"Come again to-morrow," said Nucingen. "I shall hafe seen all dat; and if it is not a declared bankruptcy, if tings can be arranged and compromised, I shall tell you to offer some reasonaple price for dat furniture, if I shall buy de lease----"

"That can be managed," said his friend. "If you go there this morning, you will find one of Falleix's partners there with the tradespeople, who want to establish a first claim; but la Val-Noble has their accounts made out to Falleix."

The Baron sent off one of his clerks forthwith to his lawyer. Jacques Falleix had spoken to him about this house, which was worth sixty thousand francs at most, and he wished to be put in possession of it at once, so as to avail himself of the privileges of the householder.

The cashier, honest man, came to inquire whether his master had lost anything by Falleix's bankruptcy.

"On de contrar' mein goot Volfgang, I stant to vin ein hundert tousant francs."

"How vas dat?"

"Vell, I shall hafe de little house vat dat poor Teufel Falleix should furnish for his mis'ess this year. I shall hafe all dat for fifty tousant franc to de creditors; and my notary, Maitre Cardot, shall hafe my orders to buy de house, for de lan'lord vant de money--I knew dat, but I hat lost mein head. Ver' soon my difine Esther shall life in a little palace.... I hafe been dere mit Falleix--it is close to here.--It shall fit me like a glofe."

Falleix's failure required the Baron's presence at the Bourse; but he could not bear to leave his house in the Rue Saint-Lazare without going to the Rue Taitbout; he was already miserable at having been away from Esther for so many hours. He would have liked to keep her at his elbow. The profits he hoped to make out of his stockbrokers' plunder made the former loss of four hundred thousand francs quite easy to endure.

Delighted to announce to his "anchel" that she was to move from the Rue Taitbout to the Rue Saint-Georges, where she was to have "ein little palace" where her memories would no longer rise up in antagonism to their happiness, the pavement felt elastic under his feet; he walked like a young man in a young man's dream. As he turned the corner of the Rue des Trois Freres, in the middle of his dream, and of the road, the Baron beheld Europe coming towards him, looking very much upset.

"Vere shall you go?" he asked.

"Well, monsieur, I was on my way to you. You were quite right yesterday. I see now that poor madame had better have gone to prison for a few days. But how should women understand money matters? When madame's creditors heard that she had come home, they all came down upon us like birds of prey.--Last evening, at seven o'clock, monsieur, men came and stuck terrible posters up to announce a sale of furniture on Saturday--but that is nothing.--Madame, who is all heart, once upon a time to oblige that wretch of a man you know----"

"Vat wretch?"

"Well, the man she was in love with, d'Estourny--well, he was charming! He was only a gambler----"

"He gambled with beveled cards!"

"Well--and what do you do at the Bourse?" said Europe. "But let me go on. One day, to hinder Georges, as he said, from blowing out his brains, she pawned all her plate and her jewels, which had never been paid for. Now on hearing that she had given something to one of her creditors, they came in a body and made a scene. They threaten her with the police-court--your angel at that bar! Is it not enough to make a wig stand on end? She is bathed in tears; she talks of throwing herself into the river--and she will do it."

"If I shall go to see her, dat is goot-bye to de Bourse; an' it is impossible but I shall go, for I shall make some money for her--you shall compose her. I shall pay her debts; I shall go to see her at four o'clock. But tell me, Eugenie, dat she shall lofe me a little----"

"A little?--A great deal!--I tell you what, monsieur, nothing but generosity can win a woman's heart. You would, no doubt, have saved a hundred thousand francs or so by letting her go to prison. Well, you would never have won her heart. As she said to me--'Eugenie, he has been noble, grand--he has a great soul.'"

"She hafe said dat, Eugenie?" cried the Baron.

"Yes, monsieur, to me, myself."

"Here--take dis ten louis."

"Thank you.--But she is crying at this moment; she has been crying ever since yesterday as much as a weeping Magdalen could have cried in six months. The woman you love is in despair, and for debts that are not even hers! Oh! men--they devour women as women devour old fogies--there!"

"Dey all is de same!--She hafe pledge' herself.--Vy, no one shall ever pledge herself.--Tell her dat she shall sign noting more.--I shall pay; but if she shall sign something more--I----"

"What will you do?" said Europe with an air.

"Mein Gott! I hafe no power over her.--I shall take de management of her little affairs----Dere, dere, go to comfort her, and you shall say that in ein mont she shall live in a little palace."

"You have invested heavily, Monsieur le Baron, and for large interest, in a woman's heart. I tell you--you look to me younger. I am but a waiting-maid, but I have often seen such a change. It is happiness--happiness gives a certain glow.... If you have spent a little money, do not let that worry you; you will see what a good return it will bring. And I said to madame, I told her she would be the lowest of the low, a perfect hussy, if she did not love you, for you have picked her out of hell.--When once she has nothing on her mind, you will see. Between you and me, I may tell you, that night when she cried so much--What is to be said, we value the esteem of the man who maintains us--and she did not dare tell you everything. She wanted to fly."

"To fly!" cried the Baron, in dismay at the notion. "But the Bourse, the Bourse!--Go 'vay, I shall not come in.--But tell her that I shall see her at her window--dat shall gife me courage!"

Esther smiled at Monsieur de Nucingen as he passed the house, and he went ponderously on his way, saying:

"She is ein anchel!"

This was how Europe had succeeded in achieving the impossible. At about half-past two Esther had finished dressing, as she was wont to dress when she expected Lucien; she was looking charming. Seeing this, Prudence, looking out of the window, said, "There is monsieur!"

The poor creature flew to the window, thinking she would see Lucien; she saw Nucingen.

"Oh! how cruelly you hurt me!" she said.

"There is no other way of getting you to seem to be gracious to a poor old man, who, after all, is going to pay your debts," said Europe. "For they are all to be paid."

"What debts?" said the girl, who only cared to preserve her love, which dreadful hands were scattering to the winds.

"Those which Monsieur Carlos made in your name."

"Why, here are nearly four hundred and fifty thousand francs," cried Esther.

"And you owe a hundred and