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

put him on the

track of her sentiments, seemed to him the guarantee of her sincerity,

and he left her full of faith.

 

Possessed by that intoxication of happy persons which shows itself in

their gestures, their looks, their very gait, and sometimes in actions

not authorized by their common-sense, after pausing a moment, as we

have said, on the staircase, he ran up a few steps till he could see

the door of the Thuilliers' apartment.

 

"At last!" he cried, "fame, fortune, happiness have come to me; but,

above all, I can now give myself the joy of vengeance. After Dutocq

and Cerizet, I will crush _you_, vile bourgeois brood!"

 

So saying, he shook his fist at the innocent door. Then he turned and

ran out; the popular saying that the earth could not hold him, was

true at that moment of his being.

 

The next day, for he could not restrain any longer the tempest that

was swelling within him, la Peyrade went to see Thuillier in the

bitterest and most hostile of moods. What was therefore his amazement

when, before he had time to put himself on guard and stop the

demonstration of union and oblivion, Thuillier flung himself into his

arms.

 

"My friend," cried the municipal councillor, as he loosened his clasp,

"my political fortune is made; this morning all the newspapers,

without exception, have spoken of the seizure of my pamphlet; and you

ought to see how the opposition sheets have mauled the government."

 

"Simple enough," said la Peyrade, not moved by this enthusiasm; "you

are a topic for them, that's all. But this does not alter the

situation; the prosecution will be only the more determined to have

you condemned."

 

"Well, then," said Thuillier, proudly raising his head, "I will go to

prison, like Beranger, like Lamennais, like Armand Carrel."

 

"My good fellow, persecution is charming at a distance; but when you

hear the big bolts run upon you, you may be sure you won't like it as

well."

 

"But," objected Thuillier, "prisoners condemned for political offences

are always allowed to do their time in hospital if they like. Besides,

I'm not yet convicted. You said yourself you expected to get me

acquitted."

 

"Yes, but since then I have heard things which make that result very

doubtful; the same hand that withheld your cross has seized your

pamphlet; you are being murdered with premeditation."

 

"If you know who that dangerous enemy is," said Thuillier, "you can't

refuse to point him out to me."

 

"I don't know him," replied la Peyrade; "I only suspect him. This is

what you get by playing too shrewd a game."

 

"Playing a shrewd game!" said Thuillier, with the curiosity of a man

who is perfectly aware that he has nothing of that kind on his

conscience.

 

"Yes," said la Peyrade, "you made a sort of decoy of Celeste to

attract young bloods to your salon. All the world has not the

forbearance of Monsieur Godeschal, who forgave his rejection and

generously managed that affair about the house."

 

"Explain yourself better," said Thuillier, "for I don't see what you

mean."

 

"Nothing is easier to understand. Without counting me, how many

suitors have you had for Mademoiselle Colleville? Godeschal, Minard

junior, Phellion junior, Olivier Vinet, the substitute judge,--all men

who have been sent about their business, as I am."

 

"Olivier Vinet, the substitute judge!" cried Thuillier, struck with a

flash of light. "Of course; the blow must have come from him. His

father, they say, has a long arm. But it can't be truly said that we

sent him about his business,--to use your expression, which strikes me

as indecorous,--for he never came to the house but once, and made no

offer; neither did Minard junior or Phellion junior, for that matter.

Godeschal is the only one who risked a direct proposal, and he was

refused at once, before he dipped his beak in the water."

 

"It is always so!" said la Peyrade, still looking for a ground of

quarrel. "Straightforward and outspoken persons are always those that

sly men boast of fooling."

 

"Ah ca! what's all this?" said Thuillier; "what are you insinuating?

Didn't you settle everything with Brigitte the other day? You take a

pretty time to come and talk to me about your love-affairs, when the

sword of justice is hanging over my head."

 

"Oh!" said la Peyrade, ironically; "so now you are going to make the

most of your interesting position of accused person! I knew very well

how it would be; I was certain that as soon as your pamphlet appeared

the old cry of not getting what you expected out of me would come up."

 

"Parbleu! your pamphlet!" cried Thuillier. "I think you are a fine

fellow to boast of that when, on the contrary, it has caused the most

deplorable complications."

 

"Deplorable? how so? you have just said your political fortune was

made."

 

"Well, truly, my dear Theodose," said Thuillier, with feeling, "I

should never have thought that you would choose the hour of adversity

to come and put your pistol at our throats and make me the object of

your sneers and innuendoes."

 

"Well done!" said la Peyrade; "now it is the hour of adversity! A

minute ago you were flinging yourself into my arms as a man to whom

some signal piece of luck had happened. You ought really to choose

decidedly between being a man who needs pity and a glorious victor."

 

"It is all very well to be witty," returned Thuillier; "but you can't

controvert what I say. I am logical, if I am not brilliant. It is very

natural that I should console myself by seeing that public opinion

decides in my favor, and by reading in its organs the most honorable

assurances of sympathy; but do you suppose I wouldn't rather that

things had taken their natural course? Besides, when I see myself the

object of unworthy vengeance on the part of persons as influential as

the Vinets, how can I help measuring the extent of the dangers to

which I am exposed?"

 

"Well," said la Peyrade, with pitiless persistency, "I see that you

prefer to play the part of Jeremiah."

 

"Yes," said Thuillier, in a solemn tone. "Jeremiah laments over a

friendship I did think true and devoted, but which I find has only

sarcasms to give me when I looked for services."

 

"What services?" asked la Peyrade. "Did you not tell me positively, no

later than yesterday, that you would not accept my help under any form

whatever? I offered to plead your case, and you answered that you

would take a better lawyer."

 

"Yes; in the first shock of surprise at such an unexpected blow, I did

say that foolish thing; but, on reflection, who can explain as well as

you can the intention of the words you wrote with your own pen?

Yesterday I was almost out of my mind; but you, with your wounded

self-love, which can't forgive a momentary impatience, you are very

caustic and cruel."

 

"So," said la Peyrade, "you formally request me to defend you before

the jury?"

 

"Yes, my dear fellow; and I don't know any other hands in which I

could better place my case. I should have to pay a monstrous sum to

some great legal luminary, and he wouldn't defend me as ably as you."

 

"Well, I refuse. Roles have changed, as you see, diametrically.

Yesterday, I thought, as you do, that I was the man to defend you.

To-day, I see that you had better take the legal luminary, because,

with Vinet's antagonism against you the affair is taking such

proportions that whoever defends it assumes a fearful responsibility."

 

"I understand," said Thuillier, sarcastically. "Monsieur has his eye

on the magistracy, and he doesn't want to quarrel with a man who is

already talked of for Keeper of the Seals. It is prudent, but I don't

know that it is going to help on your marriage."

 

"You mean," said la Peyrade, seizing the ball in its bound, "that to

get you out of the claws of that jury is a thirteenth labor of

Hercules, imposed upon me to earn the hand of Mademoiselle Colleville?

I expected that demands would multiply in proportion to the proofs of

my devotion. But that is the very thing that has worn me out, and I

have come here to-day to put an end to this slave labor by giving back

to you your pledges. You may dispose of Celeste's hand; for my part, I

am no longer a suitor for it."

 

The unexpectedness and squareness of this declaration left Thuillier

without words or voice, all the more because at this moment entered

Brigitte. The temper of the old maid had also greatly moderated since

the previous evening, and her greeting was full of the most amicable

familiarity.

 

"Ah! so here you are, you good old barrister," she said.

 

"Mademoiselle, your servant," he replied, gravely.

 

"Well," she continued, paying no attention to the stiffness of his

manner, "the government has got itself into a pretty mess by seizing

your pamphlet. You ought to see how the morning papers lash it! Here,"

she added, giving Thuillier a small sheet printed on sugar-paper, in

coarse type, and almost illegible,--"here's another, you didn't read;

the porter has just brought it up. It is a paper from our old quarter,

'L'Echo de la Bievre.' I don't know, gentlemen, if you'll be of my

opinion, but I think nothing could be better written. It is droll,

though, how inattentive these journalists are! most of them write your

name without the H; I think you ought to complain of it."

 

Thuillier took the paper, and read the article inspired to the

reviewer of the tanner's organ by stomach gratitude. Never in her life

had Brigitte paid the slightest attention to a newspaper, except to

know if it was the right size for the packages she wrapped up in it;

but now, suddenly, converted to a worship of the press by the ardor of

her sisterly love, she stood behind Thuillier and re-read, over his

shoulder, the more striking passages of the page she thought so

eloquent, pointing her finger to them.

 

"Yes," said Thuillier, folding up the paper, "that's warm, and very

flattering to me. But here's another matter! Monsieur has come to tell

me that he refuses to plead for me, and renounces all claim to

Celeste's hand."

 

"That is to say," said Brigitte, "he renounces her if, after having

pleaded, the marriage does not take place 'subito.' Well, poor fellow,

I think that's a reasonable demand. When he has done that for us there

ought to be no further delay; and whether Mademoiselle Celeste likes

it or not, she must accept him, because, you know, there's an end to

all things."

 

"Do you hear that, my good fellow?" said la Peyrade, seizing upon

Brigitte's speech. "When I have pleaded, the marriage is to take

place. Your sister is frankness itself; she, at least, doesn't

practise diplomacy."

 

"Diplomacy!" echoed Brigitte. "I'd like to see myself creeping

underground in matters. I say things as I think them. The workman has

worked, and he ought to have his pay."

 

"Do be silent," cried Thuillier, stamping his foot; "you don't say a

word that doesn't turn the knife in the wound."

 

"The knife in the wound?" said Brigitte, inquiringly. "Ah ca! are you

two quarrelling?"

 

"I told you," said Thuillier, "that la Peyrade had returned our

promises; and the reason he gives is that we are asking him another

service for Celeste's hand. He thinks he has done us enough without

it."

 

"He has done us some services, no doubt," said Brigitte; "but it seems

to me that we have not been ungrateful to him. Besides, it was he who

made the blunder, and I think it rather odd he should now wish to

leave us in the lurch."

 

"Your reasoning, mademoiselle," said la Peyrade, "might have some

appearance of justice if I were the only barrister in Paris; but as

the streets are black with them, and as, only yesterday, Thuillier

himself spoke of engaging some more important lawyer than myself, I

have not the slightest scruple in refusing to defend him. Now, as to

the marriage, in order that it may not be made the object of another

brutal and forcible demand upon me, I here renounce it in the most

formal manner, and nothing now prevents Mademoiselle Colleville from

accepting Monsieur Felix Phellion and all his advantages."

 

"As you please, my dear monsieur," said Brigitte, "if that's your last

word. We shall not be at a loss to find a husband for Celeste,--Felix

Phellion or another. But you must permit me to tell you that the

reason you give is not the true one. We can't go faster than the

fiddles. If the marriage were settled to-day, there are the banns to

publish; you have sense enough to know that Monsieur le maire can't

marry you before the formalities are complied with, and before then

Thuillier's case will have been tried."

 

"Yes," said la Peyrade, "and if I lose the case it will be I who have

sent him to prison,--just as