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

for the republican newspapers and--"

 

"When you were 'the courageous Cerizet,'" interrupted du Portail.

"Well, the present machination, here it is. The government was much

displeased at seeing Thuillier elected without its influence to the

Council-general of the Seine; it was angry with an independent and

patriotic citizen who showed by his candidacy that he could do without

it; and it learned, moreover, that this excellent citizen was

preparing a pamphlet on the subject, always a delicate one, of the

finances, as to which this dangerous adversary had great experience.

So, what did this essentially corrupt government do? It suborned a man

in whom, as it learned, Thuillier placed confidence, and for a sum of

twenty-five thousand francs (a mere trifle to the police), this

treacherous friend agreed to insert into the pamphlet three or four

phrases which exposed it to seizure and caused its author to be

summoned before the court of assizes. Now the way to make the

explanation clinch the doubt in Thuillier's mind is to let him know

that the next day la Peyrade, who, as Thuillier knew, hadn't a sou,

paid Dutocq precisely that very sum of twenty-five thousand francs."

 

"The devil!" cried Cerizet, "it isn't a bad trick. Fellows of the

Thuillier species will believe anything against the police."

 

"We shall see, then," continued du Portail, "whether Thuillier will

want to keep such a collaborator beside him, and above all, whether he

will be so eager to give him his goddaughter."

 

"You are a strong man, monsieur," said Cerizet, again expressing his

approbation; "but I must own that I feel some scruples at the part

assigned me. La Peyrade came and offered me the management of the

paper, and, you see, I should be working to evict him."

 

"And that lease he knocked you out of in spite of his promises, have

you forgotten that?" asked the little old man. "Besides, are we not

aiming for his happiness, though the obstinate fellow persists in

thwarting our benevolent intentions?"

 

"It is true," said Cerizet, "that the result will absolve me. Yes,

I'll go resolutely along the ingenious path you've traced out for me.

But there's one thing more: I can't fling my revelation at Thuillier's

head at the very first; I must have time to prepare the way for it,

but that security will have to be paid in immediately."

 

"Listen to me, Monsieur Cerizet," said du Portail, in a tone of

authority; "if the marriage of la Peyrade to my ward takes place it is

my intention to reward your services, and the sum of thirty thousand

francs will be your perquisite. Now, thirty thousand from one side and

twenty-five thousand from the other makes precisely fifty-five

thousand francs that the matrimonial vicissitudes of your friend la

Peyrade will have put into your pocket. But, as country people do at

the shows of a fair, I shall not pay till I come out. If you take that

money out of your own hoard I shall feel no anxiety; you will know how

to keep it from the clutches of your creditors. If, on the contrary,

my money is at stake, you will have neither the same eagerness nor the

same intelligence in keeping it out of danger. Therefore arrange your

affairs so that you can pay down your own thirty-three thousand; in

case of success, that sum will bring you in pretty nearly a hundred

per cent. That's my last word, and I shall not listen to any

objections."

 

Cerizet had no time to make any, for at that moment the door of du

Portail's study opened abruptly, and a fair, slender woman, whose face

expressed angelic sweetness, entered the room eagerly. On her arm,

wrapped in handsome long clothes, lay what seemed to be the form of an

infant.

 

"There!" she said, "that naughty Katte insisted that the doctor was

not here. I knew perfectly well that I had seen him enter. Well,

doctor," she continued, addressing Cerizet, "I am not satisfied with

the condition of my little one, not satisfied at all; she is very

pallid, and has grown so thin. I think she must be teething."

 

Du Portail made Cerizet a sign to accept the role so abruptly thrust

upon him.

 

"Yes, evidently," he said, "it is the teeth; children always turn pale

at that crisis; but there's nothing in that, my dear lady, that need

make you anxious."

 

"Do you really think so, doctor," said the poor crazed girl, whom our

readers have recognized as du Portail's ward, Lydie de la Peyrade;

"but see her dear little arms, how thin they are getting."

 

Then taking out the pins that fastened the swathings, she exhibited to

Cerizet a bundle of linen which to her poor distracted mind

represented a baby.

 

"Why, no, no," said Cerizet, "she is a trifle thin, it is true, but

the flesh is firm and her color excellent."

 

"Poor darling!" said Lydie, kissing her dream lovingly. "I do think

she is better since morning. What had I better give her, doctor? Broth

disgusts her, and she won't take soup."

 

"Well," said Cerizet, "try panada. Does she like sweet things?"

 

"Oh, yes!" cried the poor girl, her face brightening, "she adores

them. Would chocolate be good for her?"

 

"Certainly," replied Cerizet, "but without vanilla; vanilla is very

heating."

 

"Then I'll get what they call health-chocolate," said Lydie, with all

the intonations of a mother, listening to the doctor as to a god who

reassured her. "Uncle," she added, "please ring for Bruneau, and tell

him to go to Marquis at once and get some pounds of that chocolate."

 

"Bruneau has just gone out," said her guardian; "but there's no hurry,

he shall go in the course of the day."

 

"There, she is going to sleep," said Cerizet, anxious to put an end to

the scene, which, in spite of his hardened nature, he felt to be

painful.

 

"True," said the girl, replacing the bandages and rising; "I'll put

her to bed. Adieu, doctor; it is very kind of you to come sometimes

without being sent for. If you knew how anxious we poor mothers are,

and how, with a word or two, you can do us such good. Ah, there she is

crying!"

 

"She is so sleepy," said Cerizet; "she'll be much better in her

cradle."

 

"Yes, and I'll play her that sonata of Beethoven that dear papa was so

fond of; it is wonderful how calming it is. Adieu, doctor," she said

again, pausing on the threshold of the door. "Adieu, kind doctor!" And

she sent him a kiss.

 

Cerizet was quite overcome.

 

"You see," said du Portail, "that she is an angel,--never the least

ill-humor, never a sharp word; sad sometimes, but always caused by a

feeling of motherly solicitude. That is what first gave the doctors

the idea that if reality could take the place of her constant

hallucination she might recover her reason. Well, this is the girl

that fool of a Peyrade refuses, with the accompaniment of a

magnificent 'dot.' But he must come to it, or I'll forswear my name.

Listen," he added as the sound of a piano came to them; "hear! what

talent! Thousands of sane women can't compare with her; they are not

as reasonable as she is, except on the surface."

 

When Beethoven's sonata, played from the soul with a perfection of

shades and tones that filled her hardened hearer with admiration, had

ceased to sound, Cerizet said:--

 

"I agree with you, monsieur; la Peyrade refuses an angel, a treasure,

a pearl, and if I were in his place--But we shall bring him round to

your purpose. Now I shall serve you not only with zeal, but with

enthusiasm, I may say fanaticism."

 

As Cerizet was concluding this oath of fidelity at the door of the

study, he heard a woman's voice which was not that of Lydie.

 

"Is he in his study, the dear commander?" said that voice, with a

slightly foreign accent.

 

"Yes, madame, but please come into the salon. Monsieur is not alone; I

will tell him you are here."

 

This was the voice of Katte, the old Dutch maid.

 

"Stop, go this way," said du Portail quickly to Cerizet.

 

And he opened a hidden door which led through a dark corridor directly

to the staircase, whence Cerizet betook himself to the office of the

"Echo de la Bievre," where a heated discussion was going on.

 

The article by which the new editors of every newspaper lay before the

public their "profession of faith," as the technical saying is, always

produces a laborious and difficult parturition. In this particular

case it was necessary, if not openly to declare Thuillier's candidacy,

to at least make it felt and foreseen. The terms of the manifesto,

after la Peyrade had made a rough draft of it, were discussed at great

length. This discussion took place in Cerizet's presence, who, acting

on du Portail's advice, accepted the management, but postponed the

payment of the security till the next day, through the latitude

allowed in all administrations for the accomplishment of that

formality.

 

Cleverly egged on by this master-knave, who, from the start, made

himself Thuillier's flatterer, the discussion became stormy, and

presently bitter; but as, by the deed of partnership the deciding word

was left to la Peyrade in all matters concerning the editorship, he

finally closed it by sending the manifesto, precisely as he had

written it, to the printing office.

 

Thuillier was incensed at what he called an abuse of power, and

finding himself alone with Cerizet later in the day, he hastened to

pour his griefs and resentments into the bosom of his faithful

manager, thus affording the latter a ready-made and natural

opportunity to insinuate the calumnious revelation agreed upon with du

Portail. Leaving the knife in the wound, Cerizet went out to make

certain arrangements to obtain the money necessary for his bond.

 

Tortured by the terrible revelation, Thuillier could not keep it to

himself; he felt the need of confiding it, and of talking over the

course he would be compelled to take by this infernal discovery.

Sending for a carriage he drove home, and half an hour later he had

told the whole story to his Egeria.

 

Brigitte had from the first very vehemently declared against all the

determinations made by Thuillier during the last few days. For no

purpose whatever, not even for the sake of her brother's election,

would she agree to a renewal of the relation to la Peyrade. In the

first place, she had treated him badly, and that was a strong reason

for disliking him; then, in case that adventurer, as she now called

him, married Celeste, the fear of her authority being lessened gave

her a species of second-sight; she had ended by having an intuitive

sense of the dark profundities of the man's nature, and now declared

that under no circumstances and for no possible price would she make

one household with him.

 

"Ruin yourself if you choose," she said, "you are the master of that,

and you can do as you like; a fool and his money are soon parted."

 

When, therefore, she listened to her brother's confidences it was not

with reproaches, but, on the contrary, with a crow of triumph,

celebrating the probable return of her power, that she welcomed them.

 

"So much the better!" she cried; "it is well to know at last that the

man is a spy. I always thought so, the canting bigot! Turn him out of

doors without an explanation. WE don't want him to work that

newspaper. This Monsieur Cerizet seems, from what you tell me, the

right sort of man, and we can get another manager. Besides, when

Madame de Godollo went away she promised to write to me; and she can

easily put us in the way of finding some one. Poor, dear Celeste! what

a fate we were going to give her!"

 

"How you run on!" said Thuillier. "La Peyrade, my dear, is so far only

accused. He must be heard in his defence. And besides, there's a deed

that binds us."

 

"Ah, very good!" said Brigitte; "I see how it will be; you'll let that

man twist you round his finger again. A deed with a spy! As if there

could be deeds with such fellows."

 

"Come, come, be calm, my good Brigitte," returned Thuillier. "We

mustn't do anything hastily. Certainly, if la Peyrade cannot furnish a

justification, clear, categorical, and convincing, I shall decide to

break with him, and I'll prove to you that I am no milksop. But

Cerizet himself is not certain; these are mere inductions, and I only

came to consult you as to whether I ought, or ought not, to demand an

explanation outright."

 

"Not a doubt about it," replied Brigitte. "You ought to demand an

explanation and go to the bottom of this thing; if you don't, I cast

you off as my brother."

 

"That suffices," said Thuillier, leaving the room with solemnity; "you

shall see that we will come to an understanding."