The Lesser Bourgeoisie by Honore de Balzac (freenovel24 TXT) 📖

As he approached his own abode, Cerizet, who was nothing so little as

courageous, felt an emotion of fear. He perceived a form ambushed near

the door, which, as he came nearer, detached itself as if to meet him.

Happily, it was only Dutocq. He came for his notes. Cerizet returned

them in some ill-humor, complaining of the distrust implied in a visit

at such an hour. Dutocq paid no attention to this sensitiveness, and

the next morning, very early, he presented himself at la Peyrade's.

 

La Peyrade paid, as he had promised, on the nail, and to a few

sentinel remarks uttered by Dutocq as soon as the money was in his

pocket, he answered with marked coldness. His whole external

appearance and behavior was that of a slave who has burst his chain

and has promised himself not to make a gospel use of his liberty.

 

As he conducted his visitor to the door, the latter came face to face

with a woman in servant's dress, who was just about to ring the bell.

This woman was, apparently, known to Dutocq, for he said to her:--

 

"Ha ha! little woman; so we feel the necessity of consulting a

barrister? You are right; at the family council very serious matters

were brought up against you."

 

"Thank God, I fear no one. I can walk with my head up," said the

person thus addressed.

 

"So much the better for you," replied the clerk of the

justice-of-peace; "but you will probably be summoned before the judge

who examines the affair. At any rate, you are in good hands here; and

my friend la Peyrade will advise you for the best."

 

"Monsieur is mistaken," said the woman; "it is not for what he thinks

that I have come to consult a lawyer."

 

"Well, be careful what you say and do, my dear woman, for I warn you

you are going to be finely picked to pieces. The relations are furious

against you, and you can't get the idea out of their heads that you

have got a great deal of money."

 

While speaking thus, Dutocq kept his eye on Theodose, who bore the

look uneasily, and requested his client to enter.

 

Here follows a scene which had taken place the previous afternoon

between this woman and la Peyrade.

 

La Peyrade, we may remember, was in the habit of going to early mass

at his parish church. For some little time he had felt himself the

object of a singular attention which he could not explain on the part

of the woman whom we have just seen entering his office, who daily

attended the church at, as Dorine says, his "special hour." Could it

be for love? That explanation was scarcely compatible with the

maturity and the saintly, beatific air of this person, who, beneath a

plain cap, called "a la Janseniste," by which fervent female souls of

that sect were recognized, affected, like a nun, to hide her hair. On

the other hand, the rest of her clothing was of a neatness that was

almost dainty, and the gold cross at her throat, suspended by a black

velvet ribbon, excluded the idea of humble and hesitating mendicity.

 

The morning of the day on which the dinner at the Rocher de Cancale

was to take place, la Peyrade, weary of a performance which had ended

by preoccupying his mind, went up to the woman and asked her

pointblank if she had any request to make of him.

 

"Monsieur," she answered, in a tone of solemnity, "is, I think, the

celebrated Monsieur de la Peyrade, the advocate of the poor?"

 

"I am la Peyrade; and I have had, it is true, an opportunity to render

services to the indigent persons of this quarter."

 

"Would it, then, be asking too much of monsieur's goodness that he

should suffer me to consult him?"

 

"This place," replied la Peyrade, "is not well chosen for such

consultation. What you have to say to me seems important, to judge by

the length of time you have been hesitating to speak to me. I live

near here, rue Saint-Dominique d'Enfer, and if you will take the

trouble to come to my office--"

 

"It will not annoy monsieur?"

 

"Not in the least; my business is to hear clients."

 

"At what hour--lest I disturb monsieur--?"

 

"When you choose; I shall be at home all the morning."

 

"Then I will hear another mass, at which I can take the communion. I

did not dare to do so at this mass, for the thought of speaking to

monsieur so distracted my mind. I will be at monsieur's house by eight

o'clock, when I have ended my meditation, if that hour does not

inconvenience him."

 

"No; but there is no necessity for all this ceremony," replied la

Peyrade, with some impatience.

 

Perhaps a little professional jealousy inspired his ill-humor, for it

was evident that he had to do with an antagonist who was capable of

giving him points.

 

At the hour appointed, not a minute before nor a minute after, the

pious woman rang the bell, and the barrister having, not without some

difficulty, induced her to sit down, he requested her to state her

case. She was then seized with that delaying little cough with which

we obtain a respite when brought face to face with a difficult

subject. At last, however, she compelled herself to approach the

object of her visit.

 

"It is to ask monsieur," she said, "if he would be so very good as to

inform me whether it is true that a charitable gentleman, now

deceased, has bequeathed a fund to reward domestic servants who are

faithful to their masters."

 

"Yes," replied la Peyrade; "that is to say, Monsieur de Montyon

founded 'prizes for virtue,' which are frequently given to zealous and

exemplary domestic servants. But ordinary good conduct is not

sufficient; there must be some act or acts of great devotion, and

truly Christian self-abnegation."

 

"Religion enjoins humility upon us," replied the pious woman, "and

therefore I dare not praise myself; but inasmuch as for the last

twenty years I have lived in the service of an old man of the dullest

description, a savant, who has wasted his substance on inventions, so

that I myself have had to feed and clothe him, persons have thought

that I am not altogether undeserving of that prize."

 

"It is certainly under such conditions that the Academy selects its

candidates," said la Peyrade. "What is your master's name?"

 

"Pere Picot; he is never called otherwise in our quarter; sometimes he

goes out into the streets as if dressed for the carnival, and all the

little children crowd about him, calling out: 'How d'ye do, Pere

Picot! Good-morning, Pere Picot!' But that's how it is; he takes no

care of his dignity; he goes about full of his own ideas; and though I

kill myself trying to give him appetizing food, if you ask him what he

has had for his dinner he can't tell you. Yet he's a man full of

ability, and he has taught good pupils. Perhaps monsieur knows young

Phellion, a professor in the College of Saint-Louis; he was one of his

scholars, and he comes to see him very often."

 

"Then," said la Peyrade, "your master is a mathematician?"

 

"Yes, monsieur; mathematics have been his bane; they have flung him

into a set of ideas which don't seem to have any common-sense in them

ever since he has been employed at the Observatory, near here."

 

"Well," said la Peyrade, "you must bring testimony proving your long

devotion to this old man, and I will then draw up a memorial to the

Academy and take the necessary steps to present it."

 

"How good monsieur is!" said the pious woman, clasping her hands; "and

if he would also let me tell him of a little difficulty--"

 

"What is it?"

 

"They tell me, monsieur, that to get this prize persons must be really

very poor."

 

"Not exactly; still, the Academy does endeavor to choose whose who are

in straitened circumstances, and who have made sacrifices too heavy

for their means."

 

"Sacrifices! I think I may indeed say I have made sacrifices, for the

little property I inherited from my parents has all been spent in

keeping the old man, and for fifteen years I have had no wages, which,

at three hundred francs a year and compound interest, amount now to a

pretty little sum; as monsieur, I am sure, will agree."

 

At the words "compound interest," which evidenced a certain amount of

financial culture, la Peyrade looked at this Antigone with increased

attention.

 

"In short," he said, "your difficulty is--"

 

"Monsieur will not think it strange," replied the saintly person, "that

a very rich uncle dying in England, who had never done anything for

his family in his lifetime, should have left me twenty-five thousand

francs."

 

"Certainly," said the barrister, "there's nothing in that but what is

perfectly natural and proper."

 

"But, monsieur, I have been told that the possession of this money

will prevent the judges from considering my claims to the prize."

 

"Possibly; because seeing you in possession of a little competence,

the sacrifices which you apparently intend to continue in favor of

your master will be less meritorious."

 

"I shall never abandon him, poor, dear man, in spite of his faults,

though I know that this poor little legacy which Heaven has given me

is in the greatest danger from him."

 

"How so?" asked la Peyrade, with some curiosity.

 

"Eh! monsieur, let him only get wind of that money, and he'd snap it

up at a mouthful; it would all go into his inventions of perpetual

motion and other machines of various kinds which have already ruined

him, and me, too."

 

"Then," said la Peyrade, "your desire is that this legacy should

remain completely unknown, not only to your master but to the judges

of the Academy?"

 

"How clever monsieur is, and how well he understands things!" she

replied, smiling.

 

"And also," continued the barrister, "you don't want to keep that

money openly in your possession?"

 

"For fear my master should find it out and get it away from me?

Exactly. Besides, as monsieur will understand, I shouldn't be sorry,

in order to supply the poor dear man with extra comforts, that the sum

should bear interest."

 

"And the highest possible interest," said the barrister.

 

"Oh! as for that, monsieur, five or six per cent."

 

"Very good; then it is not only about the memorial to the Academy for

the prize of virtue, but also about an investment of your legacy that

you have so long been desirous of consulting me?"

 

"Monsieur is so kind, so charitable, so encouraging!"

 

"The memorial, after I have made a few inquiries, will be easy enough;

but an investment, offering good security, the secret of which you

desire to keep, is much less readily obtained."

 

"Ah! if I dared to--" said the pious woman, humbly.

 

"What?" asked la Peyrade.

 

"Monsieur understands me?"

 

"I? not the least in the world."

 

"And yet I prayed earnestly just now that monsieur might be willing to

keep this money for me. I should feel such confidence if it were in

his hands; I know he would return it to me, and never speak of it."

 

La Peyrade gathered, at this instant, the fruit of his comedy of legal

devotion to the necessitous classes. The choir of porters chanting his

praises to the skies could alone have inspired this servant-woman with

the boundless confidence of which he found himself the object. His

thoughts reverted instantly to Dutocq and his notes, and he was not

far from thinking that this woman had been sent to him by Providence.

But the more he was inclined to profit by this chance to win his

independence, the more he felt the necessity of seeming to yield only

to her importunity; consequently his objections were many.

 

Moreover, he had no great belief in the character of his client, and

did not care, as the common saying is, to uncover Saint Peter to cover

Saint Paul; in other words, to substitute for a creditor who, after

all, was his accomplice, a woman who might at any time become exacting

and insist in repayment in some public manner that would injure his

reputation. He decided, therefore, to play the game with a high hand.

 

"My good woman," he said, "I am not in want of money, and I am not

rich enough to pay interest on twenty-five thousand francs for which I

have no use. All that I can do for you is to place that sum, in my

name, with the notary Dupuis. He is a religious man; you can see him

every Sunday in the warden's pew in our church. Notaries, you know,

never give receipts, therefore I could not give you one myself; I can

only promise to leave among my papers, in case of death, a memorandum

which will secure the restitution of the money into your hands. The

affair, you see, is one of blind confidence, and I