so hard-hearted as to despoil those unfortunate creatures, who have
hardly enough to provide their children with food and shelter?”
“Who? Alas! madame, it’s Monsieur Jarnouillard; he has lent small sums
to Uncle Guillot at different times. Well! it was a hard winter, and he
had four children to take care of, and me too with the rest. It seems
that Monsieur Jarnouillard made my uncle sign some bits of paper, so, if
he wasn’t paid just on the minute, he could take everything my poor
uncle owned!”
“And as papa couldn’t pay him, although he had given him some money on
account,” added Claudine, “a man all dressed in black came to-day and
told mamma that all she could do was to leave the house with the
children, but she didn’t have any right to take anything away.”
“Oh! what a wretch that Monsieur Jarnouillard is!” cried Agathe, “he
does well not to show his face here, for we would put him out of doors,
we wouldn’t have him in the house. And these are the people that say
unkind things about us, who would be so distressed to cause pain to
anyone! Madame Droguet’s society contains some most estimable people!”
While Agathe made these reflections, Honorine had gone up hastily to her
room; she returned with her bonnet on her head, and said to Agathe:
“Come with me.”
“Where are we going, my dear?”
“Mon Dieu! to Guillot’s cottage, to see if there is any way of assisting
those poor people, and at the very least to save some of their
furniture. I have a hundred francs I can give them; it’s very little,
but still it will help them.”
“Oh! my good Honorine, if it were possible, I would love you even more.”
The two friends left the house, followed by Poucette and Claudine, who
had ceased to weep because they hoped and divined that the ladies
proposed to assist their dear ones.
In due time they reached the farmer’s cottage, where a number of people
had already collected. For the announcement of a sale on execution
always brings together a multitude of bargain-hunters and idlers.
A melancholy spectacle was presented to that assemblage, which would
have touched their hearts, had there been any persons susceptible to
emotion among those who were disputing over the purchase of an old
chair.
Guillot’s wife sat at the foot of a tree, about forty yards from the
house, holding her last-born child at her breast, while the two others
stood at her side, hiding their faces against their mother’s skirts as
if terrified by the sight of all those people. The peasant gazed with
tear-dimmed eyes at her hovel and at all the poor furniture that was
brought from it, to be offered for sale; then she turned her eyes on her
children, and her glance said plainly:
“We have no roof to shelter us; where will they sleep to-night?”
A short distance away, the farmer himself, in despair but striving to
retain his courage, watched the officers of the law who had taken their
places at a table, and were preparing to begin the sale.
Monsieur Jarnouillard walked about, examining the different articles as
they were brought from the house, and muttering with a shrug:
“Mon Dieu! what wretched stuff! I shall never get my money back. The
wood is rotten; it will crumble to powder!”
Meanwhile Guillot approached his creditor, hat in hand, and said to him
in a suppliant tone:
“Oh! monsieur, are you going to sell my house, too?”
“His house! that’s a pretty name for it! He calls this a house--a
miserable hovel that will hardly hold together!”
“Such as it is, monsieur, it has sheltered me and my family; it came to
me from my father, too, and I was fond of it.”
“What difference does all that make to me? It would have been better for
me if it had come from the devil and had been built of hewn stone.
Nobody’ll give anything for your hut.”
“If you don’t think anybody’ll give anything for it, monsieur, why do
you have it sold?”
“Why? and what about the money you owe me? do you imagine I shall get it
back from the sale of your furniture? Nice stuff, that is! You have
taken me in, my good man; I am sold, trapped is the word.”
On hearing this accusation from the mouth of the man who was robbing
him, the farmer proudly raised his head and replied in a firm voice:
“I have never deceived anybody, monsieur! I am an honest man, and
everybody in the neighborhood knows it; and if either of us has cheated
the other I am not the one, do you understand?”
The usurer lowered his crest and his tone, as such men always do when
they are afraid of being unmasked.
“Bless my soul! Guillot,” he rejoined; “don’t lose your temper; I may
have said one word when I meant another; my tongue must have taken a
twist. I never intended to attack your honesty; but of course you
understand that I must get back what I have advanced.”
“I only owe you four hundred and eighty francs, monsieur.”
“Of principal, yes; but the interest, which never stops running--and
interest on interest--all that counts up; so that you owe me to-day
eight hundred and seventy-five francs, besides the costs of the
execution and sale; it will amount to a thousand francs.”
“My God!”
“That’s why I am obliged to sell your cottage, as well as your
furniture.”
“But suppose it should bring more, monsieur?”
“Oh! if it should bring more than your debt and the costs, the surplus
would go to you--that’s your right; but unluckily, instead of going
above a thousand francs, I’m afraid it will fall far short of it.”
“But, monsieur, if you’re going to sell a house you must have buyers;
and to bring them together it is necessary for them to know beforehand
that it’s to be sold.”
“Don’t be afraid, all the formalities have been attended to; the notices
were posted.”
“I didn’t see them.”
“That isn’t my fault.”
“Among all these people that I see here, there isn’t one who will buy my
house.”
“Pshaw! there’s sure to be someone; at a pinch, I’ll buy it myself.”
“You, monsieur!”
“Bless me! if no other purchaser comes forward, I shall have to take it;
it will embarrass me a good deal, but I shall be driven to it!”
As he said this, Monsieur Jarnouillard rubbed his hands, thinking:
“There won’t be any other purchaser and I shall get the house for almost
nothing. Then I can let it to Guillot, and it will add just so much to
my income.”
The farmer moved away from his creditor, with death in his heart and
despair on his face. But, before joining his family, he tried to
dissemble his suffering to some extent in order not to increase his
wife’s grief. Luckily for the poor people, little Claudine came running
toward them, followed by her cousin Poucette. And the child, pointing to
Honorine and Agathe, who had stopped a short distance away, said:
“Don’t cry any more, mamma; there’s Poucette’s two mistresses; they’ve
come with us and they’re very kind; they’re sorry for us.”
“Yes,” chimed in Poucette. “Don’t cry, aunt. My mistress told me to tell
you that everything she bought would be for you; and she’ll buy all she
can!”
The farmer’s wife felt as if she were coming to life again; she started
to rise, to go with her husband to thank the lady who was so kindly
disposed to them; but Poucette detained her.
“Madame don’t want you to say anything to her now,” she said; “for if
anyone should guess she was doing it for you, the dealers are so mean,
they’re quite capable of bidding against her and making her pay more for
everything; you mustn’t look as if you knew anything about it; you can
thank her afterward.”
Meanwhile the notables of the neighborhood, those who are commonly
called the _bourgeois_ in the country, began to arrive for the sale. The
slightest novelty is an event which one is careful not to miss when one
lives in a small village.
Moreover, Monsieur Jarnouillard, being interested in the success of the
sale, had not failed to say to all his acquaintances:
“It’s always well to go to a sale; you often find something you need and
that you had forgotten about; there are sure to be good opportunities;
and you should seize opportunities; they don’t come twice.”
The Droguet family soon appeared on the scene, in the person of its
tall, bulky mistress, who leaned familiarly on the arm of friend
Luminot, the jovial dealer in wines. Little Monsieur Droguet walked
behind his wife, taking measured steps, almost in rhythm.
Madame Jarnouillard came next, arm-in-arm with Madame Remplumé, a tall,
machine-like person, as long and thin as a bean-pole, who, you would
have sworn, was a man dressed as a woman. Behind them came a little man
with a limp, Monsieur Remplumé, who never spoke, but who coughed, spat,
took snuff, sneezed and blew his nose incessantly, which made him a very
unpleasant neighbor; so that there was soon a vacant space about him.
Lastly, Doctor Antoine Beaubichon appeared, some little distance behind
this party.
When Agathe saw them in the distance, she squeezed her friend’s arm,
saying:
“Look, my dear; here come all the people who speak ill of us. Really
they are all so hideous that I am no longer surprised that they are
spiteful!”
“Don’t seem to be looking toward them.”
“Why not, pray? Do you suppose I am going to give myself a crick in the
neck because of Madame Droguet? I am very sorry that Monsieur Edmond is
in Paris to-day; for he would have come with us, and that would have
made all those people all the more frantic.--Ah! my dear, the doctor
bows to us! Good for him! he is still polite, at all events.”
Honorine turned and bowed pleasantly to the doctor, thereby placing the
former wine merchant in a painfully embarrassing position; for he too
was facing the young woman and would have been glad to salute her; but
Madame Droguet held his arm and glared at him fixedly and with such a
determined expression that, in order to extricate himself adroitly from
his predicament, Monsieur Luminot simulated five or six sneezes in quick
succession; and everyone knows that in sneezing one usually makes a
movement of the head which resembles a bow.
“Well! what does this mean?” demanded Madame Droguet, with an angry
glance at her cavalier. “Why do you sneeze like that?”
“Why--I sneeze--Mon Dieu! because I had to sneeze. It takes you
suddenly, you know; I suppose I have a cold in my head.”
“This is the first I have heard of it.”
“Or I; but you never know you have one until it appears.”
“Really, one would have thought that you were bowing to those women.”
“Well, upon my word! I never thought of such a thing.”
“Why did you sneeze toward them?”
“Faith! I sneezed when it caught me. I didn’t do it purposely.”
“All right!”
“The doctor bowed to those ladies.”
“I saw him; he’ll pay me for that; he was to apply leeches to Droguet
to-morrow, but he shan’t do it.”
“Oh! but, consider--if your husband needs the leeches!”
“I tell you that not a leech shall be put on him. I propose to show the
doctor how much I care for his prescriptions.”
“But if your husband complains of pains in his head----”
“Let me alone; I am beginning to believe that Doctor Beaubichon is just
fit to take care of hens. Droguet is dancing on my dress at this moment;
does he look sick?”
“There are the people from the Courtivaux house,” said Madame Remplumé,
approaching Madame Droguet.
“Oh! we have seen them! they are noticeable enough. What rigs!”
“Their dresses are in wretched taste!”
“The materials are the very cheapest!”
“They look so to me.”
“Regular lorettes, aren’t they, Monsieur Luminot?”
“Dear me! mesdames, allow me first to ask you what you mean by
lorettes?”
“Oh! the little innocent! who doesn’t know the ladies who live in the
Bréda quarter in Paris!”
“I assure you that I don’t know that quarter! When I lived in Paris, I
never went out of Bercy.”
“Hush, you wicked monster!”
Madame Jarnouillard interrupted this dialogue.
“Come, mesdames, and look over the furniture and other things to be
sold,” she said; “sometimes one finds just the utensils one needs. Look
at what is on exhibition.”
“Mon Dieu! madame, what do you expect us to buy in all that wretched
trash?” cried Madame Droguet, with a disdainful glance at the farmer’s
furniture. “I see nothing but rubbish--dirty stuff! and I have no doubt
it’s all full of bugs!”
“That is what I was thinking!” muttered Madame Remplumé, while her
husband spat at random.
“But there’s a pair of candlesticks that might do to use in the kitchen,
eh, Droguet?--Bah! he doesn’t hear me; he’s whistling a polka.”
“Your husband is a zephyr!”
“He’s a wind, but not a zephyr!”
“Ah! that’s very good; I’ll remember that.--Did you hear that,
Remplumé?”
_“Ahtchi! crraho! furssscht!”_
“That isn’t a wind!” muttered Luminot; “it’s a continuous fusillade.”
“There are some very decent kettles.”
“Oh! oh! I wouldn’t want to boil artichokes in them!”
“And that bellows?”
“It’s a huge thing--like the bellows of a forge; but it’s the only thing
here that one could use.”
“Jarnouillard is signalling that the sale is about to begin. Let us go
nearer, mesdames.”
“Ah! look; the occupants of the Courtivaux house are approaching also.”
“Probably they mean to buy something.”
“Yes, yes; they intend to furnish their house with the peasant’s
furniture; it will be good enough for them!”
The sale began.
The first object offered for sale was a table, still in good condition.
“Three francs for the table!” cried the auctioneer; “three
fifty--fifty-five--sixty!”
The peasants bid five or ten centimes at a time. Honorine offered five
francs. The bystanders stared at her in amazement, the peasants were
stupefied, the second-hand dealers made wry faces.
The table was knocked down to Madame Dalmont.
“What did I tell you!” muttered Madame Droguet. “These lovely Parisians
come here for their furniture!”
After the table came a walnut buffet, very old and in bad condition; the
upset price was twelve francs, and there was no purchaser. Honorine took
it at that figure. Then there came a lot of dishes, glass and
earthenware, which also were knocked down to her.
The Droguet party laughed sneeringly, and the ladies said to one
another:
“What! do they want broken bowls and chipped plates, too! The commonest
sort of china, and old sauce-pans!”
“Really those ladies will have a pretty lot of housekeeping utensils!”
“For my part, I think it’s disgraceful--disgraceful is the word--to buy
such miserable stuff!”
“Oh! how glad I am that I came to see this! it will furnish us with
amusement for a long time to come.”
“Do you know, I propose to cheat her out of that big bellows.”
“You must force the bidding.”
“Oh! I am bound to have it! you shall see.”
While Madame Droguet’s party amused themselves by making sport of the
two young women, they exchanged pleasant smiles with the farmer’s
family; the poor creatures felt a thrill of joy at each article that was
adjudged to Honorine, for Poucette, who was standing near them, said:
“That’s for you; that will come back to you; madame is buying all these
things to give them to you.”
“How much for this great bellows?” suddenly cried Madame Droguet, with
an authoritative air; “it’s the only thing here worthy to go into my
house--into my kitchen.”
While Jarnouillard, who saw that the bellows was in demand, consulted
with the auctioneer as to the price they should set on it, Poucette ran
to her mistress and whispered:
“Don’t buy the bellows, madame; it ain’t good for anything; the clack’s
gone, and uncle always meant to burn it up.”
“Very well,” replied Honorine; “but, as Madame Droguet wants it, we must
try to make her pay a good price for it.”
“Three francs for the bellows!” cried the auctioneer; and Madame Droguet
said at once:
“Three francs ten sous!”
“Four francs!” said Honorine.
“Four francs ten sous!” rejoined the stout dame, who did not choose to
bid by centimes.
“Five francs!” said Honorine.
“Well! six francs, sacrebleu!” cried Madame Droguet, her voice trembling
with anger.
Honorine made no further bid; but she turned away to laugh with Agathe;
for the wretched bellows was not worth fifty centimes.
“I knew well enough that I should get what I wanted, and that I would
force that hussy to give way to me!” cried Madame Droguet, as she
returned to her friends armed with the bellows, which she handed to her
husband, saying:
“Put that under your arm, monsieur, and don’t hold it pointed at my
back, or you’ll blow on me.”
Several other pieces of furniture and some mattresses were purchased by
Honorine. But the bedding brought better prices, and the young widow was
nearing the end of her hundred francs, when a new arrival appeared on
the scene, walking among the dishes, leaping over the furniture,
heedless of the objurgations of Monsieur Jarnouillard, who exclaimed
again and again: “What in the devil is that dog doing here? For heaven’s
sake, drive the beast away; he’s disarranging the whole sale; he’ll
break something and the stuff is poor enough already!”
Ami, for it was he who had arrived, carried his lack of respect so far
as to jump over the heads of Monsieur Jarnouillard and the auctioneer,
who were seated at the table which served them for a desk.
The latter started back in alarm when the huge dog executed that
gymnastic feat; the former hurriedly put his hand to his head to ensure
the safety of his wig which came near being carried away by one of the
dog’s paws.
Ami had performed this spring-board leap in order to join Agathe and to
lavish tokens of affection upon her. The girl patted him on the neck;
she spoke softly and caressingly to him. Meanwhile Honorine looked all
about, for Ami’s presence ordinarily announced his master’s coming.
But was it to be presumed that that strange man, who shunned all
companionship, would come to a place where a large part of the village
had assembled?
Meanwhile Monsieur Jarnouillard, who had had barely time to catch his
wig, but had not been able to prevent its turning half round on his
head, was obliged to readjust it before the whole assemblage. That made
him very angry, and he shouted like a deaf man:
“Whose cursed dog is this that nearly put my eyes out, to say nothing of
jumping over the auctioneer’s head and knocking over two candlesticks
and a jug? I want to know to whom he belongs; I shall have a word to say
to his master!”
“And what will you say to his master, monsieur? Speak--he is before
you.”
The owner of the Tower had made his way through the crowd almost as
unceremoniously as his dog, and he stood in the midst of the sale before
anyone had even observed his approach.
Monsieur Jarnouillard was thunderstruck at the abrupt appearance of that
singular personage, whose aspect was stern and imposing.
Paul was dressed as simply as usual, but he carried neither gun nor
stick; his long-vizored cap was pulled down over his eyes, so that the
upper part of his face was in shadow.
“Ah! monsieur is the owner of this great dog, is he?” faltered the
usurer, resuming his sycophantic air. “Oh, yes--true--I think I
recognize monsieur and his dog.”
“Tell me if Ami has broken anything here?”
“No, monsieur, no; he just frightened us, and he disarranged my
wig--that’s all.”
Meanwhile Madame Jarnouillard was making innumerable signs to her
husband, and calling to him:
“To the right--that’s all wrong! turn it to the right! it’s on crooked!”
But the implacable creditor, engrossed by the sale, paid no heed to his
wife’s signs. He was about to put up an old walnut commode, the
peasant’s most valuable piece of furniture, when Paul caught him by the
arm, saying:
“One moment, monsieur! You are selling out this poor family’s house and
furniture, I believe? The grief of the poor mother sitting over yonder,
with her four children about her, does not touch you!”
“Monsieur, business is--business! they are in debt to me, I need my
money----”
“Enough, monsieur! How much does your claim amount to?”
“Nearly nine hundred francs; it will amount to a thousand with the
costs.”
“Very good; offer the house for sale at once.”
“The house? I beg pardon, but we haven’t finished with the furniture
yet, and I would like----”
“I tell you that I propose to buy the house; if it brings enough to pay
your debt, then you won’t need to sell the furniture.”
“Of course not; but I doubt very much whether this hovel----”
“Do you understand me, monsieur? I tell you that I mean to buy this
house; let us make an end of the business, I beg.”
These words were uttered in a tone which made Jarnouillard as flexible
as a glove. He leaned toward the auctioneer and said in a low tone:
“This man is very anxious to have the house; we must make him pay for
it! Suppose we should fix the upset price at--at five hundred francs?”
“It’s twice as much as it’s worth.”
“No matter, let’s try it!”
“Jarnouillard! Jarnouillard! turn it to the right! You’ve got it on
crooked!”
“For God’s sake, Madame Jarnouillard, let me alone! you tire me! no
matter about my wig now!”
The usurer’s wife had thrown away her efforts. She decided to return to
her friends, who had been so taken aback by the arrival of the owner of
the Tower that Madame Droguet had fallen against Monsieur Luminot, who
fell against Madame Remplumé, who fell against her husband, who fell
against Monsieur Droguet, who, having no one to fall against, contented
himself with dropping on the ground the big bellows that he had been
told to hold under his arm.
“What does this mean? that bear here!”
“And with his dog!”
“He never goes out without him!”
“I beg your pardon! I’ve seen him without his dog!”
“What has he come to this sale for? a man who avoids society as he
does!”
“It isn’t natural!”
“You might say that it’s most extraordinary!”
“What! you don’t understand why he has come here? It’s evident enough
however!” said Madame Droguet, smiling maliciously; “aren’t the sirens
from the Courtivaux house here?”
“Oh! to be sure! they are here, so he comes here! What penetration
Madame Droguet has!”
“Why, yes, rather, I venture to flatter myself.”
While the notables indulged in these commentaries upon the presence of
the owner of the Tower, the peasants, for their part, gazed with
interest at the man of whom they had heard so many things. They were,
for the most part, surprised to find that he was a man like other men,
who had the appearance neither of a wild beast nor of an ogre.
The farmer’s family did not know whether the appearance of Paul and his
dog was a subject of fear or hope to them; but the way in which the huge
animal fawned upon Agathe and her friend gave them some little hope. And
Ami, as if he realized that it was his duty to encourage them, ran to
the spot where Guillot and his family were assembled, and gambolled
about the mother and children, wagging his tail in such a meaning way
that the poor creatures soon ceased to be afraid of him.
Monsieur Jarnouillard, having finished his conference with the
auctioneer, shouted:
“We offer for sale this house, with the little enclosure of about
fifteen rods that goes with it--the whole for five hundred francs.--Who
will give five hundred francs?”
A murmur ran through his audience:
“Five hundred francs for that hovel! why, that’s ridiculous! no one will
buy it.”
“If there was any land with it! but fifteen rods! what does that amount
to?”
“Evidently Monsieur Jarnouillard means to keep it himself! but he might
have got it for less!”
While the bystanders made these reflections aloud, the auctioneer
repeated:
“Five hundred! Come, messieurs, who bids more?”
“Who bids less, you mean!” cried Monsieur Luminot, laughing heartily.
“Ha! ha! that’s a great joke, that upset price! I’ll give three hundred
francs for the house--on condition that it’s torn down at once!”
“And I,” said Paul, in a loud voice, “I will give two thousand
francs--on condition that when the creditor and the costs are paid,
whatever remains shall be immediately turned over to this poor family.”
A fairy’s wand could not have produced a more magical effect than was
produced by the words of the owner of the Tower.
“Two thousand francs!”
“Two thousand francs!”
The words were echoed on all sides.
Agathe and Honorine alone did not seem surprised by the action of Ami’s
master; but, on the other hand, it was plain that they were made very
happy by it, and that they shared to the full the joy which the farmer
and his family manifested.
Paul walked to the desk and threw upon it two thousand-franc notes, to
which Monsieur Jarnouillard made a reverence that nearly caused him to
lose his wig altogether.
“To whom have we the honor of selling this house?” inquired the
auctioneer; “will you kindly give us your name?”