My dear Wife,--Charles Grandet has returned from the Indies and
has been in Paris about a month--
“A month!” thought Eugenie, her hand falling to her side. After a pause
she resumed the letter,--
I had to dance attendance before I was allowed to see the future
Vicomte d’Aubrion. Though all Paris is talking of his marriage and
the banns are published--
“He wrote to me after that!” thought Eugenie. She did not conclude the
thought; she did not cry out, as a Parisian woman would have done, “The
villain!” but though she said it not, contempt was none the less present
in her mind.
The marriage, however, will not come off. The Marquis d’Aubrion
will never give his daughter to the son of a bankrupt. I went to
tell Grandet of the steps his uncle and I took in his father’s
business, and the clever manoeuvres by which we had managed to
keep the creditor’s quiet until the present time. The insolent
fellow had the face to say to me--to me, who for five years have
devoted myself night and day to his interests and his honor!--that
_his father’s affairs were not his_! A solicitor would have had
the right to demand fees amounting to thirty or forty thousand
francs, one per cent on the total of the debts. But patience!
there are twelve hundred thousand francs legitimately owing to the
creditors, and I shall at once declare his father a bankrupt.
I went into this business on the word of that old crocodile
Grandet, and I have made promises in the name of his family. If
Monsieur de vicomte d’Aubrion does not care for his honor, I care
for mine. I shall explain my position to the creditors. Still, I
have too much respect for Mademoiselle Eugenie (to whom under
happier circumstances we once hoped to be allied) to act in this
matter before you have spoken to her about it--
There Eugenie paused, and coldly returned the letter without finishing
it.
“I thank you,” she said to Madame des Grassins.
“Ah! you have the voice and manner of your deceased father,” Madame des
Grassins replied.
“Madame, you have eight thousand francs to pay us,” said Nanon,
producing Charles’s cheque.
“That’s true; have the kindness to come with me now, Madame Cornoiller.”
“Monsieur le cure,” said Eugenie with a noble composure, inspired by the
thought she was about to express, “would it be a sin to remain a virgin
after marriage?”
“That is a case of conscience whose solution is not within my knowledge.
If you wish to know what the celebrated Sanchez says of it in his
treatise ‘De Matrimonio,’ I shall be able to tell you to-morrow.”
The cure went away; Mademoiselle Grandet went up to her father’s secret
room and spent the day there alone, without coming down to dinner, in
spite of Nanon’s entreaties. She appeared in the evening at the hour
when the usual company began to arrive. Never was the old hall so
full as on this occasion. The news of Charles’s return and his foolish
treachery had spread through the whole town. But however watchful the
curiosity of the visitors might be, it was left unsatisfied. Eugenie,
who expected scrutiny, allowed none of the cruel emotions that wrung her
soul to appear on the calm surface of her face. She was able to show a
smiling front in answer to all who tried to testify their interest by
mournful looks or melancholy speeches. She hid her misery behind a veil
of courtesy. Towards nine o’clock the games ended and the players left
the tables, paying their losses and discussing points of the game as
they joined the rest of the company. At the moment when the whole party
rose to take leave, an unexpected and striking event occurred, which
resounded through the length and breadth of Saumur, from thence through
the arrondissement, and even to the four surrounding prefectures.
“Stay, monsieur le president,” said Eugenie to Monsieur de Bonfons as
she saw him take his cane.
There was not a person in that numerous assembly who was unmoved by
these words. The president turned pale, and was forced to sit down.
“The president gets the millions,” said Mademoiselle de Gribeaucourt.
“It is plain enough; the president marries Mademoiselle Grandet,” cried
Madame d’Orsonval.
“All the trumps in one hand,” said the abbe.
“A love game,” said the notary.
Each and all said his say, made his pun, and looked at the heiress
mounted on her millions as on a pedestal. The drama begun nine years
before had reached its conclusion. To tell the president, in face of
all Saumur, to “stay,” was surely the same thing as proclaiming him her
husband. In provincial towns social conventionalities are so rigidly
enforced than an infraction like this constituted a solemn promise.
“Monsieur le president,” said Eugenie in a voice of some emotion when
they were left alone, “I know what pleases you in me. Swear to leave me
free during my whole life, to claim none of the rights which marriage
will give you over me, and my hand is yours. Oh!” she added, seeing him
about to kneel at her feet, “I have more to say. I must not deceive you.
In my heart I cherish one inextinguishable feeling. Friendship is the
only sentiment which I can give to a husband. I wish neither to affront
him nor to violate the laws of my own heart. But you can possess my hand
and my fortune only at the cost of doing me an inestimable service.”
“I am ready for all things,” said the president.
“Here are fifteen hundred thousand francs,” she said, drawing from her
bosom a certificate of a hundred shares in the Bank of France. “Go to
Paris,--not to-morrow, but instantly. Find Monsieur des Grassins, learn
the names of my uncle’s creditors, call them together, pay them in full
all that was owing, with interest at five per cent from the day the debt
was incurred to the present time. Be careful to obtain a full and legal
receipt, in proper form, before a notary. You are a magistrate, and I
can trust this matter in your hands. You are a man of honor; I will put
faith in your word, and meet the dangers of life under shelter of your
name. Let us have mutual indulgence. We have known each other so long
that we are almost related; you would not wish to render me unhappy.”
The president fell at the feet of the rich heiress, his heart beating
and wrung with joy.
“I will be your slave!” he said.
“When you obtain the receipts, monsieur,” she resumed, with a cold
glance, “you will take them with all the other papers to my cousin
Grandet, and you will give him this letter. On your return I will keep
my word.”
The president understood perfectly that he owed the acquiescence of
Mademoiselle Grandet to some bitterness of love, and he made haste to
obey her orders, lest time should effect a reconciliation between the
pair.
When Monsieur de Bonfons left her, Eugenie fell back in her chair and
burst into tears. All was over.
The president took the mail-post, and reached Paris the next evening.
The morning after his arrival he went to see des Grassins, and together
they summoned the creditors to meet at the notary’s office where the
vouchers had been deposited. Not a single creditor failed to be present.
Creditors though they were, justice must be done to them,--they were all
punctual. Monsieur de Bonfons, in the name of Mademoiselle Grandet, paid
them the amount of their claims with interest. The payment of interest
was a remarkable event in the Parisian commerce of that day. When the
receipts were all legally registered, and des Grassins had received for
his services the sum of fifty thousand francs allowed to him by Eugenie,
the president made his way to the hotel d’Aubrion and found Charles
just entering his own apartment after a serious encounter with his
prospective father-in-law. The old marquis had told him plainly that
he should not marry his daughter until all the creditors of Guillaume
Grandet had been paid in full.