devils!--I have twenty-five thousand francs a year!"
"Twenty-five thousand?"
"Yes, my friend! yes, I, Jules-Raoul Robineau! I am going to set up a
carriage! I am rich--almost as rich as you; not quite so rich yet to be
sure, but it may come. When one is on the road to wealth--Yes--wait a
minute, till I sit down. I am exhausted! Since I have had twenty-five
thousand francs a year, I have suffered from palpitations; indeed, there
are times when I really can’t breathe!"
Robineau threw himself on a couch, took out his handkerchief, wiped his
face, loosened the waistband of his trousers so that he could breathe
more easily, in fact, made himself perfectly comfortable. It was plain
that money had already produced its effect, and that he was no longer
the humble government clerk who bowed to the floor before he ventured to
take a chair in the salons of his friend the Baron de Marcey. But wealth
long ago proved its power to change the temper, the disposition, the
aspect and manners of a person, and it is probable that the lessons of
the past will always be thrown away, because men will be no better
to-morrow than they were yesterday.
Alfred, who considered that there was no reason why his friend’s newly
acquired wealth should prevent him from washing, had resumed his
suddenly interrupted occupation, and waited tranquilly for Robineau to
explain himself more at length. At last, after putting one foot on a
stool, and looking about for a chair on which to put the other, the
ex-clerk continued:
"My dear fellow, you must have heard me say that I had an uncle who
sailed for the Indies when he was very young."
"Oh, yes! and you have never heard from him, and he has come home
enormously rich. That’s what happens in all the vaudevilles."
"I am not talking about vaudevilles.--This uncle, my father’s brother,
left home.--My dear parents never heard of him again.--They died,
leaving me nothing but an education, which, I venture to say, is----"
"Go on, go on! I was at school with you, and I know that somebody else
always had to write your translations and your themes; but no matter!"
"Yes; let us drop the Latin.--Yesterday, my dear fellow, when I returned
from the department, I found a letter at my rooms. I opened it; it was
from a notary, inviting me to call at once at his office, provided with
my papers, certificate of baptism, etc. I didn’t quite know what to
expect from a letter from a notary; but I complied with his invitation
instantly. The notary asked me if I had any parents, and all sorts of
details about my family; at last, my dear Alfred, when I had answered
all his questions, and proved that I was really Jules-Raoul Robineau,
son of Benoît-Etienne Robineau and Cécile Desboulloir, he said to me
without any other preamble:
"‘Monsieur, your uncle, Gratien Robineau, has recently deceased at
Havre, where he had just landed. He had turned all his fortune into
cash, and proposed to pass the rest of his life in Paris, when death,
which he had defied a hundred times in distant lands, struck him down as
he reached the haven. Your uncle has left you all his property, and it
amounts to about five hundred thousand francs.’"
"Five hundred thousand francs!"
"Ah! my friend, you can imagine my delight, my amazement. I almost
fainted, and the notary had to give me vinegar and salts."
"What! you, Robineau, a philosopher, a bachelor without ambition, who
despised riches,--you fainted when you learned that you had inherited a
fortune?"
"Oh! my dear fellow, a man may be a philosopher, you know--that’s all
right; indeed it’s the best thing one can do when one has to endure
privations; but he may have a heart all the same, and be easily moved;
and five hundred thousand francs! I thought at first that that meant a
million a year, but, on figuring it out, I found that it was only
twenty-five thousand francs at five per cent.--But when a man is sharp
and knows how to go about it, he can make his money bring in six or
eight or ten per cent.--Isn’t that so, my friend?"
"My dear Robineau, I know very well how to spend money, but I know
absolutely nothing about investing it."
"Of course not! You have never been a clerk in the Treasury!"
"However, if I should give you any advice, it would be to invest your
money in solid securities, consols or real estate. It seems to me that a
man who has been accustomed to live on fifteen hundred francs a year may
do very well with twenty thousand; and it would be better to have no
more than that and have it perfectly safe, than to expose your fortune
to the risks of business. That is my opinion, my dear Robineau; a man
may be very heedless about his own concerns and yet advise others
wisely; so you will do well to----"
Robineau, who seemed to grew impatient toward the end of Alfred’s
harangue, had risen and was walking about the room humming; at last he
interrupted his friend.
"All right! all right!" he cried; "I thank you for your advice, but I
flatter myself that I shall be able to manage my fortune as well as any
other man. Let us drop the subject, my friend, and think only of
pleasures, of merry-making. In my opinion, when a man is rich, life
should be simply a torrent of enjoyments.--Finish your dressing and
let’s go out to breakfast; I invite you to breakfast with me at the Café
Anglais, or the Café de la Bourse, or Véry’s, if you choose."
"You come too late, my dear Robineau; I have breakfasted."
"What’s the odds? You can begin again."
"No indeed! Do you think that because one is rich, one can eat every
minute of the day without making one’s self sick?"
"The devil! that’s a pity. I have already had some coffee and tea, but I
want a déjeuner à la fourchette--that’s better form.--By the way, my
dear Alfred, as to form I will take your advice. I know that you follow
the fashions, and I propose to follow them too, strictly.--Twenty-five
thousand francs a year! Why, just imagine my joy!"
"Faith, I congratulate you; for you are a good fellow at bottom."
"If you knew how many plans I already have in my head! I mean to do so
many things that I don’t know where to begin!--But let us go to
breakfast, I beg; you can pretend to eat."
The two young men were about to go out when Edouard appeared. Robineau
did not give him time to bid his friend good-morning, but threw his arms
about his neck, embraced him and apprized him of the change that had
taken place in his fortune. Edouard quietly congratulated him, and
Robineau could not understand why the news did not produce a greater
effect on him; he conceived that all those who were about him ought to
be equally excited and enchanted on learning that he had twenty-five
thousand francs a year.
"I came to ask you to breakfast with me," Edouard said to Alfred.
Giving the latter no time to reply, Robineau seized Edouard’s arm and
cried:
"I am going to take you with us; we will breakfast together, yes, and
dine too, if you have time; and while we are at the table, I’ll tell you
my plans, my ideas.--Look, here’s a coat that I bought yesterday
ready-made; I was in a hurry to have a new one. It fits me rather well,
eh?--Let us go downstairs, and I’ll show you my cabriolet."
"What! have you bought a cabriolet and horses, already?"
"No, I have hired until I can buy them. I must have other lodgings; I
can’t keep my cabriolet in my present fourth floor apartment; I am going
to look for one with a stable and carriage house.--Mon Dieu! how many
things I have to do! Really, I had no idea that wealth kept one so
busy."
Alfred and Edouard glanced at each other with a smile; then they
followed Robineau, who could not keep still, but ran through the rooms
puffing like an ox.
They went downstairs, Robineau in the lead; he called his servant and
shouted to him to get up behind his carriage.
"We shall founder your horse," said Alfred; "I might take my own
cabriolet for Edouard and myself."
"No, no," said Robineau, "I prefer to go together. My horse is strong;
at all events, if he isn’t a good one, I’ll make them give me another
to-morrow. Oh! I see to it that I am well served, I do!--Get up behind,
François; I will drive."
They all entered Robineau’s cabriolet; he seated himself in the middle,
took the reins and essayed to drive, because he was convinced that as
soon as one is rich, one knows everything by instinct. He plied the whip
vigorously, pulled the reins this way and that, and tormented his
horse, who grazed curbstones and pedestrians every instant; and while
his companions laughed at his exertions and at his manner of driving, he
locked his wheel in the wheel of a cab, while trying to avoid a dray.
The cabman swore and said that he must be a duffer to run into his
wheel; Robineau swore too, in order not to seem to be in the wrong; but
his oaths did not suffice to extricate him from the fix in which he had
involved himself; and, realizing that he would never get out of the
tangle himself, he handed the reins to Alfred, saying:
"Do me the favor to drive, my dear fellow, for I am so engrossed by my
affairs that I might mistake the road."
Thanks to Alfred, they cut loose from the cab and arrived without other
mishaps at the Palais-Royal. They went to Beauvilliers’, and Robineau
ordered all the most expensive dishes; if his two companions had not
checked him, he would have provided a breakfast for twenty and would
have shouted at the top of his lungs that he had twenty-five thousand
francs a year.
"By the way," said Alfred, "what of Fifine? you don’t mention her. She
must be much pleased by what has happened to you, isn’t she?"
"Fifine!" repeated Robineau, with a distraught air; "oh! I haven’t had
time yet to see her since I went to my notary’s.--_My notary!_ I say,
messieurs, how that rings in the ear! My notary!"
"Do you mean to say, Monsieur Robineau," said Edouard, "that you have
not yet imparted your good news to her who was so dear to you a week
since? Pray consider that when a woman has loved you for yourself alone,
you owe her a debt of gratitude; and the least that you can do is to let
her share your pleasure in what has happened to you."
"Edouard is right," said Alfred; "when you have had the good luck to
fall in with a good, sensible, loyal woman, it seems to me, my friend,
that you can hardly do too much for her."
"Messieurs, messieurs," replied Robineau, nibbling at the wing of a
chicken, "it is very easy for you to talk; perhaps you would like me to
make Mademoiselle Fifine my wife; that would be very pretty!"
"We know very well that you won’t do that; but----"
"But I can’t keep that little milliner for my mistress either. You must
agree that when one has a considerable fortune, one may fly at higher
game, more distinguished. And then, messieurs, between ourselves,
Mamzelle Fifine isn’t exactly a model of virtue; indeed she falls very
far short of it. I have noticed several times that--you understand--but
I have always pretended not to see anything, because I wasn’t in love
with her. And then, she has a flighty disposition, a very quick temper;
she’s a perfect dragon. For my part, I like mild-mannered women. I am
accustomed to her face; but the fact is that she isn’t pretty; she has a
bold look and that’s all."
"Oh! I say, Robineau, you don’t propose to tell us now that she hasn’t a
good figure; she was a Venus the other night."
"Oh, yes! a strange kind of Venus! And she made me spend all my money on
little parties of two; two-thirds of my salary went that way."
"What, man! a woman who loved you for yourself alone?"
"Yes. Oh! I know that she loved me; but that didn’t prevent her being as
gluttonous as a cat. However, messieurs, I have no desire to speak ill
of her; I shall certainly buy her something; I am too generous to--But
let us drop Fifine and talk about my plans. My dear friends, you have
no idea what I have in my head--well! it’s a château!"
"A château!" exclaimed Alfred; "why, my poor Robineau, you are mad; if
you buy a château you won’t have anything left to keep it up!"
"Bah! I know how to calculate. There are châteaux and châteaux! Why
can’t I put a hundred thousand francs into a nice little estate, an
estate with a house on it, built in the old style? My notary assures me
that he can find such a one very readily; and then, my dear friends, I
can assume the name of my estate. That is done every day; and, between
ourselves, Robineau is a very vulgar name for a man with twenty-five
thousand francs a year."
"What, Monsieur Robineau!" said Edouard; "you, who declared that you
should never change, whatever might happen, and whose discourse reminded
one of Socrates and Cincinnatus!"
"As I have told you, my friends, I have my plans. I look a long way
ahead. I buy a small château, an estate, no matter where, and I assume
its name; that gives me at once an air of nobility; then I find a rich
heiress, I present myself, I make a favorable impression, and I marry.
What do you say to that? It seems to me that’s not a bad scheme; and if
I had no other name than Robineau, I could never become allied to a
distinguished family! Mon Dieu! my dear Uncle Gratien, what a noble use
I will make of your wealth!"
"And to begin with, you propose to discard his name."
"You must see that I do it from policy. It is decided: I shall buy an
estate, I shall have peasants and vassals, and they will call me
monseigneur!"
"They won’t call you monseigneur, my poor Robineau, because in these
days the man who owns lands, houses and farms is not on that account at
liberty to dispose at his pleasure of the people who till his fields;
and those delightful little prerogatives of _cuissage, jambage,
marquette, prélibation,_ and the like, which made the plight of vassals
worse than that of beasts of burden, and degraded mankind by exalting
one man at the expense of his fellowman--those prerogatives no longer
exist; because men love a kind and virtuous master and no longer tremble
before an arrogant and dissipated lord; because all men are under the
protection of the laws, which ordain obedience and not humiliation; and
finally because there are no more serfs except in Russia, where I advise
you to go to buy your château, if you want to be called monseigneur. But
I really believe, Robineau, that if you were left to your own devices,
you would become one of the petty tyrants of the olden time, or at least
a wolf, like the one in Little Red Riding Hood."
"I say, messieurs, to my mind, that was a very pretty little prerogative
that entitled the lord to be the first man to put his legs into a newly
married woman’s bed.--But I will make _rosières_[2]--that will be just
the same thing."
"Pending the time when you make rosières, pay the bill and let us go."
"Already?"
"Do you propose to pass your life in restaurants?"
"No, of course not; but it’s only half-past twelve, messieurs.--What
does one do all day long when one is rich?"
"Attends to his business, when he has any, and enjoys himself when he
has an opportunity--and that doesn’t happen every day."
"I don’t propose to leave you to-day, my friends. I will take you
wherever you would like to go; to the Bouffes if you please; there’s a
performance there to-day. That’s the rich man’s theatre, and I shall go
nowhere else; but it isn’t one o’clock, and we can’t go to the Bouffes
in the morning."
"Edouard and I are going for a ride," said Alfred, "and we shall
probably take a turn in the Bois de Boulogne."
"To ride!" cried Robineau; "the devil! that’s my style; I’ll go with
you!"
"Do you know how to sit a horse?"
"Never fear. It would be a great joke if a man with twenty-five thousand
francs a year shouldn’t know how to sit on a horse!"
"In that case, come with us; I’ll lend you a mare that has a very gentle
trot."
"That’s the thing; and I’ll make her gallop all the time. By the way, my
friends, another word before we go: do me a favor."
"What is it?"
"After this, don’t call me Robineau any more, but call me by my
Christian name--Jules; that is more _distingué,_ it has a pleasanter
sound."
"I will call you Monsieur le Marquis Jules, if you choose," laughed
Edouard.
"As for me," said Alfred, "I shall call you whatever comes into my
head."
"Try to let nothing come into it but Jules, I entreat you."
They returned to Alfred’s house, on foot this time, because, despite
Robineau’s entreaties, the two friends did not care to crowd themselves
into his cabriolet again. The _nouveau riche_ decided therefore to
dismiss his carriage, and accompanied his friends on foot; but on the
way he assumed airs and graces which caused his companions much
amusement. He did not deign to glance at the multitude, he refused to
turn aside for anyone, for in his opinion everybody should have been
eager to give way to him. But such was not the case; and as his
impertinent air did not prepossess people in his favor, they did not
make way for him; some even ventured to jostle him, and he received more
than one blow for persisting in blocking the path.
"It’s very foolish to go on foot when you have a carriage!" he
exclaimed; while Alfred and Edouard observed in an undertone:
"There’s something more foolish than that."
They arrived at the hôtel De Marcey. The two friends were soon in the
saddle, and Alfred’s groom led out for Robineau’s use a pretty little
mare which pawed the ground and displayed a noble ardor for the road.
Robineau began to frown and walked around the horse, saying:
"It seems to me that this horse is a vicious-looking animal."
"On the contrary she is the gentlest creature you can imagine; she’s a
lady’s horse."
"Then she will do for me. But why does she stamp so?"
"Because she’s impatient for a gallop."
"The devil! if she’s impatient, she’ll run away; I don’t want to ride
like a madman!"
"Don’t be alarmed! Don’t you know how to mount?"
"Yes, yes; but when one has just breakfasted, one should go gently;
that’s a principle of mine."
"If you don’t wish to go at all, you are at liberty not to do so; let us
go without you."
"No--par Dieu! I am with you! Oh! you will see how gracefully I
ride--what a seat I have!"
"Mount then."
"Which side do I mount?"
"What! you don’t know on which side to mount?"
"I have forgotten; it was a long while ago that I learned."
"My dear Robineau, you’ll have a fall."
"Jules! I told you to call me Jules; why won’t you do it?--I say,
Germain, just hold the stirrup for me--that’s right."
"Boldly now! Ah! how heavy you are!"
Robineau succeeded at last in placing his right leg on the other side of
the saddle; he was fairly mounted and he glanced triumphantly about.
"Let us be off," said Alfred; and he gave the rein to his horse; but
Robineau, bounding up from the saddle, cried:
"Stop! stop! I am not ready. What the devil! you fellows start off
without giving me time to get settled; my stirrup leathers are too long,
my toes hardly reach the stirrup."
"That is the way to have them; you will rise less."
"Why, I came just within an ace of going over my horse’s head. I like my
stirrup leathers very short; that gives one a much firmer seat.--Take
them up a little for me, Germain--a little more; that’s
right.--There--now I am glued to my saddle."
"Well! may we start now?"
"Yes, yes; let us start."
Alfred and Edouard rode off and Robineau followed them. Despite the
shortened stirrup leathers, he bumped and rolled about on his saddle,
although he had grasped the pommel with his right hand. As they were in
Paris, they went no faster than a slow trot, and Robineau succeeded in
keeping pace with them, calling out from time to time:
"Not so fast, messieurs! galloping in the streets of Paris is
forbidden."
"But we are not galloping, are we?"
"Never mind--don’t go so fast, I beg you; I am not used to it yet, and
then it’s more amusing to go slowly."
When they reached the Champs-Elysées, Robineau was already drenched with
perspiration, and his hat, which the jolting had displaced, was so far
back on his head that his hair flew about unconfined over his brow.
"Come on, Monsieur Jules," said Edouard, "let us have a bit of a canter
here; it’s a superb road."
"Yes, yes, the road’s very nice; but it seems to me that my breakfast
rises a little higher with each step that this infernal beast takes; she
has a terribly hard trot, this mare of yours!"
"Bah! you are joking; let her canter then."
"One moment; my stirrup leathers are still too long."
"You don’t mean that; your knees are on the level of your horse’s ears!"
"Never mind; I learned to ride in accordance with certain principles."
"Very pretty, your principles are!"
"There--now I am ready."
"Off we go then!"
The two friends set off at a gallop. Robineau had no desire to ride at
that pace; but the mare he bestrode was determined to follow the other
horses, and her rider was fain to gallop whether he would or not. As he
had never ridden at such a pace, he did not know what to do; he threw
himself forward and backward, pulled the reins tight, then suddenly
dropped them. He was convinced that his steed had taken the bit in her
teeth, and he shouted with all the strength of his lungs:
"Stop her! stop her, I say!"
But Alfred replied:
"Don’t be afraid, Robineau, let her go."
And Edouard called back to him:
"Come on, Monsieur Jules; steady, sit straighter; you should be a little
more graceful than that!"
The unskilled equestrian answered to neither name; he was utterly
bewildered; he lost his hat, and ere long he himself lay sprawling in
the dust; and Alfred, who was far ahead with Edouard, suddenly saw the
little mare by his side without a rider.
The young men concluded that some accident had befallen their companion;
so they turned back, leading Robineau’s horse. He had picked himself up
and found that he had escaped with a few bruises, and after going back
to get his hat, he had entered a café, where his friends found him.
"How is this? did you allow yourself to be thrown?" queried Alfred,
smiling when he saw that Robineau was not hurt.
"Yes, messieurs. Parbleu! it’s a most surprising thing! You went off
like the wind! My horse tried to follow you, and ran away. You told me
to let her go, and I did let her go to such good purpose that I fell
off. You see, I didn’t tell you that I could ride like Franconi or
Paul!"
"We have discovered that!--Well! will you remount?"
"No, thanks; I have had enough for to-day. Besides, I am rather sore. Go
and finish your ride; I will wait here for you and read the
Petites-Affiches while you are having your canter; as I want to buy an
estate, you will understand that the Petites-Affiches interests me more
than the Bois de Boulogne."
The little mare was stabled, and the two friends rode away. Robineau,
sipping a glass of sweetened water the while, as a restorative after his
fall, ran through the Petites-Affiches, and read all the advertisements
of estates for sale; but he constantly shrugged his shoulders, with such
muttered comments as:
"These are too small! twenty thousand francs! forty thousand francs!
They must be mere hovels! I want something better than
that!--Dovecotes!--gardens in full bearing! What do I care for that?--I
am not buying an estate in order to have pigeons and plums to eat; but
in order to be called Monsieur de la--that is to say, by the name of my
estate.--Ah! eighty thousand francs; that’s better; but pastures--farm
lands--I can’t give balls and be a great lord in a farmhouse.--Aha! a
château--two châteaux--twelve guest-rooms! That is what I want. Let’s
see what the price is--three hundred thousand francs--two hundred and
forty thousand francs. It’s absurd to fix such a price as that for a
château! It seems to me that there ought to be cheaper ones for
amateurs."
Robineau knew the Petites-Affiches by heart when the two young men
returned from their ride. As he absolutely refused to mount his horse
again, Alfred led the little mare by the bridle, and Robineau followed
in a hired cabriolet. They returned to the hôtel De Marcey; but it was
only half-past three, and they could not dine until six. Alfred went to
his study to write some letters, Edouard went out to pay some visits,
and Robineau, who did not understand that the days last twice as long
when one does not know what to do to amuse one’s self as when one is at
work, betook himself to his notary’s to pass the time.