“Well, well,” interrupted the sorceress, “if I am to tell fortunes

alone, you might as well guillotine me at once. Because a fool of a

woman lay-in with a dead child, must toads be suppressed in nature? Why

did God make them?”

“My dear woman,” said the chief, “did you never hear that in 1617 a

learned man was put to death for having a toad in a bottle?”

“Yes, I know that; but we are not in those light ages,” replied Madame

Fontaine, facetiously.

“As for you, Madame Nourrisson, the complaint is that you gather your

fruit unripe. You ought to know by this time the laws and regulations,

and I warn you that everything under twenty-one years of age is

forbidden. I wonder I have to remind you of it. Now, aunt, what I have

to say to you is confidential.”

Thus dismissed, two of the Fates departed.

Since the days when Jacques Collin had abdicated his former kingship

and had made himself, as they say, a new skin in the police force,

Jacqueline Collin, though she had never put herself within reach of

the law, had certainly never donned the robe of innocence. But having

attained, like her nephew, to what might fairly be called opulence, she

kept at a safe and respectful distance from the Penal Code, and under

cover of an agency that was fairly avowable, she sheltered practices

more or less shady, on which she continued to bestow an intelligence and

an activity that were really infernal.

“Aunt,” said Vautrin, “I have so many things to say to you that I don’t

know where to begin.”

“I should think so! It is a week since I’ve seen you.”

“In the first place, I must tell you that I have just missed a splendid

chance.”

“What sort of chance?” asked Jacqueline.

“In the line of my odious calling. But this time the capture was worth

making. Do you remember that little Prussian engraver about whom I sent

you to Berlin?”

“The one who forged those Vienna bank bills in that wonderful way?”

“Yes. I just missed arresting him near Saint-Sulpice. But I followed him

into the church, where I heard your Signora Luigia.”

“Ah!” said Jacqueline, “she has made up her mind at last, and has left

that imbecile of a sculptor.”

“It is about her that I have come to talk to you,” said Vautrin.

“Here are the facts. The Italian opera season in London has begun

badly,--their prima donna is taken ill. Sir Francis Drake, the

impresario, arrived in Paris yesterday, at the Hotel des Princes, rue

de Richelieu, in search of a prima donna, at any rate _pro tem_. I have

been to see him in the interests of the signora. Sir Francis Drake is

an Englishman, very bald, with a red nose, and long yellow teeth. He

received me with cold politeness, and asked in very good French what my

business was.”

“Did you propose to him Luigia?”

“That was what I went for,--in the character, be it understood, of

a Swedish nobleman. He asked if her talent was known. ‘Absolutely

unknown,’ I replied. ‘It is risky,’ said Sir Francis; ‘nevertheless

arrange to let me hear her.’ I told him that she was staying with her

friend Madame de Saint-Esteve, at whose house I could take the liberty

to invite him to dinner.”

“When?” asked Jacqueline.

“To-day is the 19th; I said the 21st. Order the dinner from Chevet for

fifteen persons, and send for your client Bixiou to make you out the

list. Tell him you want the chief men of the press, a lawyer to settle

the terms of the contract, and a pianist to accompany the signora. Let

her know what hangs upon it. Sir Francis Drake and I will make up the

number. Useless to tell you that I am your friend Comte Halphertius,

who, having no house in Paris, gives this dinner at yours. Mind that

everything is done in the best taste.”

In designating Bixiou to his aunt as the recruiting-officer of the

dinner, Vautrin knew that through the universality of his relations with

writing, singing, designing, eating, living, and squirming Paris, no one

was as capable as he of spreading the news of the dinner broadcast.

At seven o’clock precisely all the guests named by Desroches to Maxime,

plus Desroches himself, were assembled in the salon of the rue de

Provence, when the Negro footman opened the door and announced Sir

Francis Drake and his Excellency the Comte Halphertius. The dress of

the Swedish nobleman was correct to the last degree,--black coat, white

cravat, and white waistcoat, on which glowed the ribbon of an order

hanging from his neck; the rest of his decorations were fastened to his

coat by chainlets. At the first glance which he cast upon the company,

Vautrin had the annoyance of beholding that Jacqueline’s habits and

instincts had been more potent than his express order,--for a species of

green and yellow turban surmounted her head in a manner which he felt to

be ridiculous; but thanks to the admirable manner in which the rest of

his programme had been carried out, the luckless coiffure was forgiven.

As for Signora Luigia, dressed in black, which was customary with her,

and having had the good sense to reject the services of a _coiffeur_,

she was royally beautiful. An air of melancholy gravity, expressed by

her whole person, inspired a sentiment of respect which surprised the

men who on Bixiou’s invitation were there to judge of her. The only

special presentation that was made among the guests was that of

Desroches to Vautrin, which Bixiou made in the following lively

formula:--

“Maitre Desroches, the most intelligent solicitor of modern times--Comte

Halphertius of Sweden.”

As for Sir Francis Drake, he seemed at first inclined to disdain the

influence of the dramatic newspapers, whose representatives were there

assembled; but presently recognizing Felicien Vernou and Lousteau, two

noted men of that secondary press, he greeted them heartily and shook

them by the hand.

Before dinner was announced, Comte Halphertius judged it advisable to

make a little speech.

“Dear madame,” he said to his aunt, “you are really a fairy godmother.

This is the first time I have ever been in a Parisian salon, and here

you have assembled to meet me all that literature, the arts, and the

legal profession can offer of their best. I, who am only a

northern barbarian,--though our country, too, can boast of its

celebrities,--Linnaeus, Berzelius, Thorwaldsen, Tegner, Franzen, Geier,

and the charming novelist Frederika Bremer,--I find myself a cipher in

such company.”

“But in Bernadotte France and Sweden clasped hands,” replied Madame de

Saint-Esteve, whose historical erudition went as far as that.

“It is very certain,” said Vautrin, “that our beloved sovereign, Charles

XIV.--”

The announcement of dinner by a majordomo, who threw open the double

doors of the salon, put an end to this remark. Jacqueline took Vautrin’s

arm, saying in a whisper as they walked along,--

“Have I done things all right?”

“Yes,” replied Vautrin, “it is all in good style, except that devil of a

turban of yours, which makes you look like a poll-parrot.”

“Why, no,” said Jacqueline, “not at all; with my Javanese face” (she was

born on the island of Java), “oriental things set me off.”

Madame de Saint-Esteve placed Sir Francis Drake upon her right, and

Desroches on her left; Vautrin sat opposite, flanked on either side by

Emile Blondet, of the “Debats,” and the Signoria Luigia; the rest of the

company placed themselves as they pleased. The dinner, on the whole, was

dull; Bixiou, at Madame de Saint-Esteve’s request, had warned the party

to risk nothing that might offend the chaste ears of the pious Italian.

Forced to mind their morals, as a celebrated critic once observed, these

men of wit and audacity lost their spirit; and, taking refuge in the

menu, which was excellent, they either talked together in a low voice,

or let the conversation drag itself along in bourgeois commonplaces.

They ate and they drank, but they did not dine. Bixiou, incapable of

bearing this state of things during a whole dinner, determined to

create a reaction. The appearance of this Swedish magnate, evidently on

intimate terms with the Saint-Esteve, puzzled him. He noticed a certain

insufficiency in Vautrin, and thought to himself that if he were really

a great nobleman, he would be more equal to the occasion, and give

a tone to the feast. He determined, therefore, to test him, and thus

provide amusement, at any rate, for himself. So, at the end of the

second course, he suddenly said from his end of the table,--

“Monsieur le comte, you are too young, of course, to have known Gustavus

III., whom Scribe and Auber have set in opera, while the rest of us

glorify him in a _galop_.”

“I beg your pardon,” replied Vautrin, jumping at the chance thus given

him, “I am nearly sixty years of age, which makes me thirteen in 1792,

when our beloved sovereign was killed by the assassin Ankarstroem, so

that I can well remember that period.”

Thus, by means of a little volume entitled “Characters and Anecdotes of

the Court of Sweden,” printed in 1808, and bought on the quays in the

interests of his Swedish incarnation, the chief of the detective police

evaded the trap. He did better. The faucet being open, he poured forth

such an abundance of erudition and detailed circumstances, he related

so many curious and secret anecdotes, especially relating to the _coup

d’etat_ by which, in 1772, Gustavus III. had freed his crown,--in short,

he was so precise and so interesting that as they left the table Emile

Blondet said to Bixiou,--

“I thought, as you did, that a foreign count in the hands of a marriage

agent was a very suspicious character; but he knows the court of

Sweden in a way that it was quite impossible to get out of books. He is

evidently a man well born; one might make some interesting articles out

of the stories he has just told.”

“Yes,” said Bixiou, “and I mean to cultivate his acquaintance; I could

make a good deal out of him in the Charivari.”

“You have better find out first,” said Desroches, “whether he has enough

French humor to like being caricatured.”

Presently the first notes of the piano gave notice that the Signora

Luigia was about to mount the breach. She first sang the romance in

“Saul” with a depth of expression which moved the whole company, even

though that areopagus of judges were digesting a good dinner, as to

which they had not restrained themselves. Emile Blondet, who was more

of a political thinker than a man of imagination, was completely carried

away by his enthusiasm. As the song ended, Felicien Vernou and Lousteau

went up to Sir Francis Drake and reproached him for wishing to take

such a treasure from France, at the same time flattering him for his

cleverness as an impresario.

La Luigia then sang an air from the “Nina” of Paesiello; and in

that--the part being very dramatic--she showed a talent for comedy

second only to her vocal gift. It was received with truly genuine

applause; but what assured and completed her success with these trained

judges was her modesty and the sort of ignorance in which she still

remained of her amazing talent,--in the midst, too, of praises which

might have turned her head. Accustomed to frenzied self-love and

the insolent pretensions of the veriest sparrow of the opera, these

journalists were amazed and touched by the humility, the simplicity of

this empress, who seemed quite astonished at the effect she produced.

The success of the trial passed all expectation. There was but one voice

as to the desirability of immediately engaging her; and Sir Francis

Drake, Vautrin, and Desroches presently passed into an adjoining room

to draw up the terms of the contract. As soon as that was done, Vautrin

returned to the salon for _la diva_, requesting her to hear the contract

read and to affix her signature. Her departure for London without

further delay was fixed for the following day in company with Sir

Francis Drake.

A few days later the packet-boat from Boulogne conveyed to England

another personage of this history. Jacques Bricheteau, having obtained

Sallenauve’s present address from Madame de l’Estorade, and considering

the danger which threatened the new deputy extremely urgent, decided not

to write, but to go himself to England and confer with him in person.

When he reached London, he was surprised to learn that Hanwell was the

most celebrated insane asylum in Great Britain. Had he reflected on the

mental condition of Marie-Gaston, he might have guessed the truth. As

it was, he felt completely bewildered; but not committing the blunder

of losing his time in useless conjectures, he went on without a moment’s

delay to Hanwell, which establishment is only about nine miles from

London, pleasantly situated at the foot of a hill on the borders of

Middlesex and Surrey.

After a long detention in the waiting-room, he was at last enabled

to see his friend at a moment when Marie-Gaston’s insanity, which for

several days had been in the stages of mania, was yielding to the care

of the doctor, and showed some symptoms of a probable recovery. As soon

as Sallenauve was alone with the organist, he inquired the reason that

led him to follow him; and he heard, with some emotion, the news of the

intrigues which Maxime de Trailles had apparently organized against him.

Returning to his original suspicions, he said to Jacques Bricheteau,--

“Are you really sure that that person who declared himself my father was

the Marquis de Sallenauve, and that I am truly his son?”

“Mother Marie-des-Anges and Achille Pigoult, by whom I was warned

of this plot, have no more doubt than I have of the existence of the

Marquis de Sallenauve; this gossip with which they threaten you has, in

my judgment, but one dangerous aspect. I mean that by your absence you

are giving a free field to your adversaries.”

“But,” replied the deputy, “the Chamber will not condemn me without a

hearing. I wrote to the president and asked for leave of absence, and I

took the precaution to request de l’Estorade, who knows the reason of my

absence, to be kind enough to guarantee me, should my absence be called

in question.”

“I think you also wrote to Madame de l’Estorade, didn’t you?”

“I wrote only to her,” replied Sallenauve. “I wanted to tell her about

the great misfortune of our mutual friend, and, at the same time, I

asked her to explain to her husband the kind service I requested him to

do for me.”

“If that is so,” said Bricheteau, “you need not count for one moment

on the l’Estorades. A knowledge of this trick which is being organized

against you has reached their ears and affected their minds, I am very

sure.”

He then related the reception he had met with from Madame de l’Estorade,

and the uncivil remarks she had made about Sallenauve, from which he

concluded that in the struggle about to take place no assistance could

be relied on from that direction.

“I have every reason to be surprised,” said Sallenauve, “after the warm

assurances Madame de l’Estorade has given me of an unfailing good-will.

However,” he added, philosophically, “everything is possible in this

world; and calumny has often undermined friendship.”

“You understand, therefore,” said Bricheteau, “that it is all-important

to start for Paris, without a moment’s delay. Your stay here, all things

considered, is only relatively necessary.”

“On the contrary,” said Sallenauve, “the doctor considers that my

presence here may be of the utmost utility. He has not yet let me see

the patient, because he expects to produce some great result when I do

see him.”

“That is problematical,” returned Jacques Bricheteau; “whereas by

staying here you are compromising your political future and your

reputation in the most positive manner. Such a sacrifice no friendship

has the right to demand of you.”

“Let us talk of it with the doctor,” said Sallenauve, unable to deny the

truth of what Bricheteau said.

On being questioned, the doctor replied that he had just seen symptoms

in the patient which threatened another paroxysm.

“But,” cried Sallenauve, eagerly, “you are not losing hope of a cure,

are you, doctor?”

“Far from that. I have perfect faith in the ultimate termination of the

case; but I see more delay in reaching it than at first I expected,”

replied the doctor.

“I have recently been elected to our Chamber of deputies,” said

Sallenauve, “and I ought to be in my seat at the opening of the session;

in fact, my interests are seriously concerned, and my friend Monsieur

Bricheteau has come over to fetch me. If therefore I can be sure that my

presence here is not essential--”

“By all means go,” said the doctor. “It may be a long time before I

could allow you to see the patient; therefore you can leave without

the slightest self-reproach. In fact, you can really do nothing here at

present. Trust him to Lord Lewin and me; I assure you that I shall make

his recovery, of which I have no doubt, a matter of personal pride and

self-love.”

Sallenauve pressed the doctor’s hand gratefully, and started for London

without delay. Arriving there at five o’clock, the travellers were

unable to leave before midnight; meantime their eyes were struck at

every turn by those enormous posters which English _puffism_ alone

is able to produce, announcing the second appearance in Her Majesty’s

theatre of the Signora Luigia. The name alone was enough to attract

the attention of both travellers; but the newspapers to which they had

recourse for further information furnished, as is customary in England,

so many circumstantial details about the prima donna that Sallenauve

could no longer doubt the transformation of his late housekeeper into an

operatic star of the first magnitude.

Going to the box-office, which he found closed, every seat having been

sold before mid-day, Sallenauve considered himself lucky to obtain two

seats from a speculator, at the enormous cost of five pounds apiece.

The opera was “La Pazza d’Amore” of Paesiello. When the curtain rose,

Sallenauve, who had spent the last two weeks at Hanwell, among the

insane, could all the more appreciate the remarkable dramatic talent his

late housekeeper displayed in the part of Nina. Even Bricheteau, though

annoyed at Sallenauve’s determination to be present, was so carried

away by the power of the singer that he said to his companion rather

imprudently,--

“Politics have no triumphs as that. Art alone is deity--”

“And Luigia is its prophet!” added Sallenauve.

Never, perhaps, had the Italian opera-house in London presented a more

brilliant sight; the whole audience was in a transport of enthusiasm,

and bouquets fairly rained upon the stage.

As they left the theatre, Bricheteau looked at his watch; it was a

quarter to eleven; they had thus ample time to take the steamer leaving,

as the tide served, at midnight. But when the organist turned to make

this remark to Sallenauve, who was behind him, he saw nothing of his

man; the deputy had vanished!

Ten minutes later the maid of the Signora Luigia entered her mistress’s

dressing-room, which was filled with distinguished Englishmen presented

by Sir Francis Drake to the new star, and gave her a card. On reading

the name the prima donna turned pale and whispered a few words to the

waiting-woman; then she seemed so anxious to be rid of the crowd who

were pressing round her that her budding adorers were inclined to be

angry. But a great singer has rare privileges, and the fatigue of the

part into which the _diva_ had just put so much soul seemed so good

an excuse for her sulkiness that her court dispersed without much

murmuring.

Left alone, the signora rapidly resumed her usual dress, and the

directors’ carriage took her back to the hotel where she had stayed

since arriving in London. On entering her salon she found Sallenauve,

who had preceded her.

“You in London, monsieur!” she said; “it is like a dream!”

“Especially to me,” replied Sallenauve, “who find you here, after

searching hopelessly for you in Paris--”

“Did you take that pains?--why?”

“You left me in so strange a manner, and your nature is so rash,

you knew so little of Paris, and so many dangers might threaten your

inexperience, that I feared for you.”

“Suppose harm did happen to me; I was neither your wife, nor your

sister, nor your mistress; I was only your--”

“I thought,” said Sallenauve, hastily, “that you were my friend.”

“I was--under obligation to you,” she replied. “I saw that I was

becoming an embarrassment in your new situation. What else could I do

but release you from it?”

“Who told you that you were an embarrassment to me? Have I ever said

or intimated anything of the kind? Could I not speak to you, as I

did, about your professional life without wounding so deeply your

sensibility?”

“People feel things as they feel them,” replied Luigia. “I had the

inward consciousness that you would rather I were out of your house than

in it. My future you had already given me the means to secure; you see

for yourself it is opening in a manner that ought to reassure you.”

“It seems to me so brilliant that I hope you will not think me

indiscreet if I ask whose hand, more fortunate than mine, has produced

this happy result.”

“That of a great Swedish nobleman,” replied Luigia, without hesitation.

“Or rather, I should say, as the friend of a lady who took an interest

in me, he procured me an engagement at Her Majesty’s Theatre; the kind

encouragement of the public has done the rest.”

“Say, rather, your own talent; I was present at the performance this

evening.”

Making him a coquettish courtesy, Luigia said,--

“I hope you were satisfied with your humble servant.”

“Your musical powers did not surprise me, for those I knew already; but

those transports of dramatic passion, your powerful acting, so sure of

itself, did certainly astonish me.”

“It comes from having suffered much,” replied Luigia; “suffering is a

great teacher.”

“Suffered? Yes, I know you did, in Italy. But I have liked to feel that

after your arrival in France--”

“Always; I have always suffered,” she said in a voice of emotion. “I was

not born under a happy star.”

“That ‘always’ seems like a reproach to me,” said Sallenauve, “and yet I

do not know what wrong I can have done you.”

“You have done me no wrong; the harm was there!” she cried, striking her

breast,--“within me!”

“Probably some foolish fancy, such as that of leaving my house suddenly,

because your mistaken sense of honor made you think yourself in my way.”

“Not mistaken,” she replied. “I know what was in your thoughts. If only

on account of what you had done for me, I knew I could never aspire to

your esteem.”

“But, my dear Luigia, I call such ideas absurd. Have I ever shown you

any want of consideration? How could I? Your conduct has always been

exemplary.”

“Yes, I tried to do everything that would give you a good opinion of me;

but I was none the less the widow of Benedetto.”

“What! can you suppose that that misfortune, the result of a just

vengeance--”

“Ah! no, it is not the death of that man that lowered me in your eyes;

on the contrary. But I had been the wife of a buffoon, of a police-spy,

of a base man, ready to sell me to any one who would give him money.”

“As long as that situation lasted, I thought you deeply to be pitied;

but despised, never!”

“And,” continued the Italian, more excitedly, “we had lived two years

under the same roof, you and I alone.”

“Yes, and I found my comfort in it.”

“Did you think me ugly?”

“You know better than that, for I made my finest statue from you.”

“Foolish?”

“No one was ever foolish who could act such a part as you did to-night.”

“Then you must see that you despised me.”

Sallenauve seemed wholly surprised by this deduction; he thought himself

very clever in replying,--

“It seems to me that if I had behaved to you in any other manner you

would have the right to say that I despised you.”

But he had to do with a woman who in everything, in her friendships, her

hatreds, her actions, as in her words, went straight to her point. As if

she feared not to be fully understood, she went on:--

“To-day, monsieur, I can tell you all, for I speak of the past; the

future has opened before me, as you see. From the day you were good to

me and by your generous protection I escaped an infamous outrage, my

heart has been wholly yours.”

Sallenauve, who had never suspected that feeling, and, above all, was

unable to understand how so artlessly crude an avowal of it could be

made, knew not what to answer.

“I am not ignorant,” continued the strange woman, “that I should have

difficulty in rising from the degradation in which I appeared to you at

our first meeting. If, at the time you consented to take me with you to

Paris, I had seen you incline to treat me with gallantry, had you shown

any sign of turning to your profit the dangerous situation in which I

had placed myself, my heart would instantly have retired; you would have

seemed to me an ordinary man--”

“So,” remarked Sallenauve, “to love you would have been insulting; not

to love you was cruel! What sort of woman are you, that either way you

are displeased?”

“You ought not to have loved me,” she replied, “while the mud was still

on my skirts and you scarcely knew me; because then your love would have

been the love of the eyes and not of the soul. But when, after two years

passed beside you, you had seen by my conduct that I was an honorable

woman; when, without ever accepting a pleasure, I devoted myself to the

care of the house and your comfort without other relaxation than the

study of my art; and when, above all, I sacrificed to you that modesty

you had seen me defend with such energy,--then you were cruel not to

comprehend, and never, never will your imagination tell you what I have

suffered, and all the tears you have made me shed.”

“But, my dear Luigia, I was your host, and even had I suspected what you

now reveal to me, my duty as an honorable man would have commanded me to

see nothing of it, and to take no advantage of you.”

“Ah! that is not the reason; it is simpler than that. You saw nothing

because your fancy turned elsewhere.”

“Well, and if it were so?”

“It ought not to be so,” replied Luigia, vehemently. “That woman is not

free; she has a husband and children, and though you did make a saint of

her, I presume to say, ridiculous as it may seem, that she is not worth

me!”

Sallenauve could not help smiling, but he answered very seriously,--

“You are totally mistaken as to your rival. Madame de l’Estorade was

never anything to me but a model, without other value than the fact that

she resembled another woman. That one I knew in Rome before I knew you.

She had beauty, youth, and a glorious inclination for art. To-day she

is confined in a convent; like you, she has paid her tribute to sorrow;

therefore, you see--”

“What, three hearts devoted to you,” cried Luigia, “and not one

accepted? A strange star is yours! No doubt I suffer from its fatal

influence, and therefore I must pardon you.”

“You are good to be merciful; will you now let me ask you a question?

Just now you spoke of your future, and I see it with my own eyes. Who

are the friends who have suddenly advanced you so far and so splendidly

in your career? Have you made any compact with the devil?”

“Perhaps,” said Luigia, laughing.

“Don’t laugh,” said Sallenauve; “you chose to rush alone and unprotected

into that hell called Paris, and I dread lest you have made some fatal

acquaintance. I know the immense difficulties and the immense dangers

that a woman placed as you are now must meet. Who is this lady that you

spoke of? and how did you ever meet her while living under my roof?”

“She is a pious and charitable woman, who came to see me during your

absence at Arcis. She had noticed my voice at Saint-Sulpice, during the

services of the Month of Mary, and she tried to entice me away to her

own parish church of Notre-Dame de Lorette,--it was for that she came to

see me.”

“Tell me her name.”

“Madame de Saint-Esteve.”

Though far from penetrating the many mysteries that surrounded

Jacqueline Collin, Sallenauve knew Madame de Saint-Esteve to be a woman

of doubtful character and a matrimonial agent, having at times heard

Bixiou tell tales of her.

“But that woman,” he said, “has a shocking notoriety in Paris. She is an

adventuress of the worst kind.”

“I suspected it,” said Luigia. “But what of that?”

“And the man to whom she introduced you?”

“He an adventurer? No, I think not. At any rate, he did me a great

service.”

“But he may have designs upon you.”

“Yes, people may have designs upon me,” replied Luigia, with dignity,

“but they cannot execute them: between those designs and me, there is

myself.”

“But your reputation?”

“That was lost before I left your house. I was said to be your mistress;

you had yourself to contradict that charge before the electoral college;

you contradicted it, but you could not stop it.”

“And my esteem, for which you profess to care?”

“I no longer want it. You did not love me when I wished for it; you

shall not love me now that I no longer wish it.”

“Who knows?” exclaimed Sallenauve.

“There are two reasons why it cannot be,” said the singer. “In the first

place, it is too late; and in the second, we are no longer on the same

path.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“I am an artist and you have ceased to be one. I rise; you fall.”

“Do you call it falling to rise, perhaps, to the highest dignities of

the State?”

“To whatever height you rise,” said Luigia, passionately, “you will ever

be below your past and the noble future that was once before you--Ah!

stay; I think that I have lied to you; had you remained a sculptor, I

believe I should have borne still longer your coldness and your disdain;

I should have waited until I entered my vocation, until the halo round

a singer’s head might have shown you, at last, that I was there beside

you. But on the day that you apostatized I would no longer continue my

humiliating sacrifice. There is no future possible between us.”

“Do you mean,” said Sallenauve, holding out his hand, which she did not

take, “that we cannot even be friends?”

“No,” she replied; “all is over--past and gone. We shall hear of each

other; and from afar, as we pass in life, we can wave our hands in

recognition, but nothing further.”

“So,” said Sallenauve, sadly, “this is how it all ends!”

La Luigia looked at him a moment, her eyes shining with tears.

“Listen,” she said in a resolute and sincere tone: “this is possible.

I have loved you, and after you, no one can enter the heart you have

despised. You will hear that I have lovers; believe it not; you will not

believe it, remembering the woman that I am. But who knows? Later your

life may be swept clean of the other sentiments that have stood in my

way; the freedom, the strangeness of the avowal I have just made to you

will remain in your memory, and then it is not impossible that

after this long rejection you may end by desiring me. If that should

happen,--if at the end of many sad deceptions you should return, in

sheer remorse, to the religion of art,--then, then, supposing that long

years have not made love ridiculous between us, remember this evening.

Now, let us part; it is already too late for a _tete-a-tete_.”

So saying, she took a light and passed into an inner room, leaving

Sallenauve in a state of mind we can readily imagine after the various

shocks and surprises of this interview.

On returning to his hotel he found Jacques Bricheteau awaiting him.

“Where the devil have you been?” cried the organist, impatiently. “It is

too late now to take the steamboat.”

“Well,” said Sallenauve, carelessly, “then I shall have a few hours

longer to play truant.”

“But during that time your enemies are tunnelling their mine.”

“I don’t care. In that cave called political life one has to be ready

for anything.”

“I thought as much!” exclaimed Bricheteau. “You have been to see Luigia;

her success has turned your head, and the deputy is thinking of his

statues.”

“How often have I heard you say yourself that Art alone is great?”

“But an orator,” replied Bricheteau, “is also an artist, and the

greatest of all. Others speak to the heart and the mind, but he to the

conscience and the will of others. At any rate, this is no time to look

back; you are engaged in a duel with your adversaries. Are you an honest

man, or a scoundrel who has stolen a name? There is the question which

may, in consequence of your absence, be answered against you in the

Chamber.”

“I begin to feel that you have led me into a mistaken path; I had in my

hands a treasure, and I have flung it away!”

“Happily,” said the organist, “that’s only an evening mist which the

night will dissipate. To-morrow you will remember the engagement you are

under to your father, and the great future which is before you.”

IX. IN THE CHAMBER

The king had opened the Chamber, but Sallenauve was not present, and

his absence was causing a certain sensation in the democratic ranks. The

“National” was particularly disturbed. As a stockholder of the paper,

coming frequently to its office before the election, and even consenting

to write articles for it, how strange that on the eve of the opening of

the session the newly elected deputy should not come near it!

“Now that he is elected,” said some of the editorial staff, remarking

on the total disappearance of the man whom they considered they had done

their part to elect, “does monsieur think he can treat us scurvily?

It is getting too much the habit of these lordly deputies to be very

obsequious as long as they are candidates, and throw us away, after they

have climbed the tree, like an old coat.”

Less excitable, the editor-in-chief calmed this first ebullition, but

Sallenauve’s absence from the royal session seemed to him very strange.

The next day, when the bureaus are constituted, presidents and

secretaries appointed, and committees named, Sallenauve’s absence

was still more marked. In the bureau for which his name was drawn,

it happened that the election of its president depended on one vote;

through the absence of the deputy of Arcis, the ministry gained that

advantage and the Opposition lost it. Much discontent was expressed by

the newspapers of the latter party; they did not, as yet, openly attack

the conduct of the defaulter, but they declared that they could not

account for it.

Maxime de Trailles, on the other hand, fully prepared and on the watch,

was waiting only until the routine business of the bureaus and the

appointment of the committees was disposed of to send in the petition of

the Romilly peasant-woman, which had been carefully drawn up by Massol,

under whose clever pen the facts he was employed to make the most

of assumed that degree of probability which barristers contrive to

communicate to their sayings and affirmations. But when Maxime had

the joy of seeing that Sallenauve’s absence in itself was creating a

prejudice against him, he went again to Rastignac and asked him if he

did not think it better to hasten the moment of attack, since everything

seemed so favorable.

This time Rastignac was much more explicit: Sallenauve’s absence abroad

seemed to him the conduct of a man who feared exposure and had lost his

head. He therefore advised de Trailles to have the petition sent in

at once, and he made no difficulty about promising his assistance to a

conspiracy which appeared to be taking color, the result of which must

be, in any case, a very pretty scandal. The next day the first trace

of his subterranean influence was visible. The order of the day in the

Chamber was the verification of powers,--that is, the admission of newly

elected members. The deputy appointed to report on the elections in the

department of the Aube was a strong partisan of the ministry, and, in

consequence of a confidential communication made to him that morning,

the following paragraph appeared in his report:--

The action of the electoral college of Arcis was regular. Monsieur

de Sallenauve produced in proper time all the necessary papers

proving his eligibility; his admission therefore would seem to

present no difficulty. But rumors of a singular nature have been

current since the election as to the name and identity of the new

deputy; and, in support of these rumors, a petition to authorize a

criminal prosecution has been laid before the president of the

Chamber. This petition states an extremely serious fact, namely:

that Monsieur de Sallenauve has usurped the name he bears; and

this usurpation, being made by means of an official document,

assumes the character of forgery committed by substitution of

person. A most regrettable circumstance,

continued the report,

is the absence of Monsieur de Sallenauve, who instead of instantly

contradicting the accusation made against him, has not appeared

since the opening of the Chamber at any of its sessions, and it is

not even known where he is. Under these circumstances, his

admission, the committee think, cannot be granted; and they feel

it therefore their duty to refer the matter to the Chamber.

Daniel d’Arthez, a deputy of the legitimist opposition, who had been

favorable to the election of Sallenauve, hastened, after the reading of

this report, to ask for the floor, and entreated the Chamber to remark

that its adoption would be wholly unjustifiable.

“The point for the committee to decide,” he said, “was the regularity

of the election. The report distinctly states that this is not called in

question. The Chamber can, therefore, do only one thing; namely,

admit by an immediate vote the validity of an election about which

no irregularity is alleged. To bring in the question of authorizing

a criminal investigation would be an abuse of power; because by not

allowing discussion or defence, and by dispensing with the usual forms

of procedure which guarantee certain rights to a party implicated, the

Chamber would be virtually rejecting the action of the electors in the

exercise of their sovereign functions. Every one can see, moreover,”

added the orator, “that to grant the right of criminal investigation in

this connection is to prejudge the merits of the case; the presumption

of innocence, which is the right of every man, is ignored--whereas in

this case the person concerned is a man whose integrity has never been

doubted, and who has just been openly honored by the suffrages of his

fellow citizens.”

The discussion was prolonged for some time, the ministerial orators, of

course, taking the other side, until an unfortunate event occurred.

The senior deputy, acting as president (for the Chamber was not yet

constituted), was a worn-out old man, very absent-minded, and wholly

unaccustomed to the functions which his age devolved upon him. He

had duly received Monsieur de Sallenauve’s letter requesting leave of

absence; and had he recollected to communicate it, as in duty bound, to

the Chamber at the proper time, the discussion would probably have been

nipped in the bud. But parliamentary matters are apt to go haphazard;

when, reminded of the letter by the discussion, he produced it, and when

the Chamber learned that the request for leave of absence was made for

an indefinite period and for the vague purpose of “urgent affairs,” the

effect was lamentable.

“It is plain,” said all the ministerial party, “that he has gone to

England to escape an investigation; he feared the result; he feels

himself unmasked.”

This view, setting aside political prejudices, was shared by the sterner

minds of all parties, who refused to conceive of a man not hastening to

defend himself from such a blasting accusation. In short, after a very

keen and able argument from the attorney-general, Vinet, who had taken

heart on finding that the accused was likely to be condemned by default,

the question of adjournment was put to the vote and passed, but by a

very small majority; eight days being granted to the said deputy to

appear and defend himself.

The day after the vote was passed Maxime de Trailles wrote to Madame

Beauvisage as follows:--

Madame,--The enemy received a severe check yesterday. In the

opinion of my friend Rastignac, a very intelligent and experienced

judge in parliamentary matters, Dorlange can never recover from

the blow, no matter what may happen later. If we cannot succeed in

producing positive proof to support the statement of our good

peasant-woman, it is possible that this rascal, supposing always

that he ventures to return to France, may be admitted to the

Chamber. But if he is, he can only drag on a despised and

miserable existence; he will be driven to resign, and then the

election of Monsieur Beauvisage is beyond all doubt; for the

electors, ashamed to have forsaken him for such a rascal, will be

only too glad to reinstate themselves in public opinion by the

choice of an honorable man--who was, in fact, their first choice.

It is to your rare sagacity, madame, that this result is due; for

without that species of second sight which showed you the chances

hidden in the revelation of that woman, we should have missed our

best weapon. I must tell you though you may think this vanity,

that neither Rastignac nor the attorney-general, in spite of their

great political acumen, perceived the true value of your

discovery; and I myself, if I had not had the good fortune of your

acquaintance, and thus been enabled to judge of the great value of

all ideas emanating from you, even I might have shared the

indifference of the two statesmen to the admirable weapon which

you have placed in our hands. I have now succeeded in proving to

Rastignac the shrewdness and perspicacity you have shown in this

matter, and he sincerely admires you for them. Therefore, madame,

when I have the happiness of belonging to you by the tie we

proposed, I shall not have to initiate you into politics, for you

have already found your way there.

Nothing further can take place for a week, which is the period of

delay granted by the Chamber. If the defaulter does not then

appear, I am confident his election will be annulled. You can

easily believe that between now and then all my efforts will be

given to increase the feeling in the Chamber against him, both by

arguments in the press and by private conversations. Rastignac has

also given orders among the ministerial adherents to that effect.

We may feel confident, therefore, that by the end of another week

our enemy will find public opinion solidly against him.

Will you permit me, madame, to recall myself to the memory of

Mademoiselle Cecile, and accept yourself, together with Monsieur

Beauvisage, the assurance of my most respectful sentiments.

A hint from certain quarters given to the ministerial journals now

began to surround Sallenauve’s name with an atmosphere of disrespect and

ridicule; insulting insinuations colored his absence with an appearance

of escaping the charges. The effect of these attacks was all the

greater because Sallenauve was very weakly defended by his political

co-religionists, which was scarcely surprising. Not knowing how to

explain his conduct, the Opposition papers were afraid to commit

themselves in favor of a man whose future was daily becoming more

nebulous.

On the evening before the day on which the time granted for an

explanation would expire, Sallenauve being still absent, a ministerial

paper published, under the heading of “A Lost Deputy,” a very witty

and insolent article, which was read by every one and created a great

sensation. During that evening Madame de l’Estorade went to see Madame

de Camps, whom she found alone with her husband. She was greatly

agitated, and said, as soon as she entered the room,--

“Have you read that infamous article?”

“No,” replied Madame Octave, “but Monsieur de Camps was just telling

me about it. It is really shameful that the ministry should not only

countenance, but instigate such villanies.”

“I am half crazy,” said Madame de l’Estorade; “the whole blame rests on

us.”

“That is saying too much,” said Madame Octave.

“No,” said her husband, “I agree with madame; all the venom of this

affair could have been destroyed by one action of de l’Estorade’s, and

in refusing to make it he is, if not the author, at least the accomplice

of this slander.”

“Your wife has told you--” began Madame de l’Estorade in a reproachful

tone.

“Yes,” said Madame de Camps; “it was necessary to explain to my husband

the sort of madness that seemed to have taken possession of M. de

l’Estorade; but what I said to him was not unfaithful to any secret that

concerned you personally.”

“Ah! you are such a united pair,” said Madame de l’Estorade, with a

heavy sigh. “I don’t regret that you have told all that to your husband;

in fact, two heads are better than one to advise me in the cruel

position in which I am placed.”

“What has happened?” asked Madame de Camps.

“My husband is losing his head,” replied the countess. “I don’t see a

trace of his old moral sense left in him. Far from understanding that he

is, as Monsieur de Camps said just now, the accomplice of the shameful

attack which is going on, and that he has not, like those who started

it, the excuse of ignorance, he actually seems to take delight in this

wickedness. Just now he brought me that vile paper triumphantly, and

I could scarcely prevent his being very angry with me for not agreeing

with his opinion that it was infinitely witty and amusing.”

“That letter of Monsieur Gaston’s was a terrible shock to him,” said

Madame de Camps,--“a shock not only to his heart but to his body.”

“I admit that,” said her husband; “but, hang it! a man is a man, and he

ought to take the words of a maniac for what they are worth.”

“It is certainly very singular that Monsieur de Sallenauve does not

return,” said Madame Octave; “for that Joseph Bricheteau, to whom you

gave his address, must have written to him.”

“Oh!” cried the countess, “there’s fatality in the whole thing.

To-morrow the question of confirming the election or not comes up in

the Chamber; and if Monsieur de Sallenauve is not here by that time, the

ministry expects to annul it.”

“It is infamous,” said Monsieur de Camps, “and I have a great mind to go

to the president of the Chamber, and tell him how matters are.”

“I would have asked you to do so at the risk of my husband suspecting

my interference, but one thing restrained me. Monsieur de Sallenauve

particularly desires that Monsieur Gaston’s mental condition be not made

public.”

“It is evident,” said Madame de Camps, “that do defend him in any way

would go against his wishes. After all, the decision against him in

the Chamber is very doubtful, whereas Monsieur Gaston’s madness, if

mentioned publicly, would never be forgotten.”

“But I have not told you the worst so far as I am concerned,” said

Madame de l’Estorade. “Just before dinner my husband imparted to me an

absolutely Satanic desire of his--order, I might call it.”

“What was it?” asked Madame de Camps, anxiously.

“He wishes me to go with him to the Chamber to-morrow,--to the gallery

reserved for the peers of France,--and listen to the discussion.”

“He is actually, as you say, losing his head,” cried Monsieur de Camps;

“he is like Thomas Diafoirus, proposing to take his fiance to enjoy a

dissection--”

Madame de Camps made her husband a sign which meant, “Don’t pour oil on

the fire.” Then she asked the countess whether she had tried to show M.

de l’Estorade the impropriety of that step.

“The moment I began to object,” replied the countess, “he was angry, and

said I must be very anxious to keep up our intimacy with ‘that man’

when I rejected such a natural opportunity to show publicly that the

acquaintance was at an end.”

“Well, my dear, you will have to go,” said Madame de Camps. “The peace

of your home before everything else! Besides, considering all things,

your presence at the discussion may be taken as a proof of kindly

interest.”

“For sixteen years,” remarked Monsieur de Camps, “you have ruled and

governed in your home; and here, at last, is a revolution which cruelly

overturns your power.”

“Ah, monsieur, I beg you to believe that that sovereignty--which I

always sought to conceal--I never used arbitrarily.”

“As if I did not know that!” replied Monsieur de Camps, taking Madame de

l’Estorade’s hand and pressing it affectionately. “I am, nevertheless,

of my wife’s opinion: you will have to drink this cup.”

“But I shall die of shame in listening to the ministerial infamies; I

shall feel that they are cutting the throat of a man whom two words from

me could save.”

“True,” said Monsieur de Camps, “and a man, too, who has done you a

vast service. But you must choose: do you prefer to bring hell into your

home, and exasperate the unhealthy condition of your husband’s mind?”

“Listen to me, dearest,” said Madame de Camps. “Tell Monsieur de

l’Estorade that I want to go to this session, and ask him for a permit;

don’t yield the point to any objections. I shall then be there to take

care of you, and perhaps protect you from yourself.”

“I did not dare ask it of you,” replied Madame de l’Estorade. “We don’t

usually invite friends to see us commit bad actions; but since you are

so kind as to offer, I can truly say I shall be less wretched if you are

with me. Now good-bye; I don’t want my husband to find me out when he

comes home. He is dining with Monsieur de Rastignac, where, no doubt,

they are plotting for to-morrow.”

“Yes, go; and I will write you a note in the course of an hour, as if I

had not seen you, asking you to get me a permit for to-morrow’s session,

which I am told will be very interesting.”

“To be reduced to conspiracy!” cried Madame de l’Estorade, kissing her

friend.

“My dear love,” said Madame de Camps, “they say the life of a Christian

is a struggle, but that of a woman married in a certain way is a pitched

battle. Have patience and courage.”

So saying, the two friends separated.

The next day, about two o’clock, Madame de l’Estorade, accompanied by

her husband and Madame Octave de Camps, took their places in the gallery

reserved for the members of the peerage. She seemed ill, and answered

languidly the bows and salutations that were addressed to her from all

parts of the Chamber. Madame de Camps, who was present for the first

time in the parliamentary precincts, made two observations: first,

she objected strongly to the slovenly costume of a great many of the

“honorable gentlemen”; and she was also amazed at the number of bald

heads she looked down upon from the gallery. Monsieur de l’Estorade took

pains to point out to her all the notabilities present: first, the great

men whom we need not mention, because their names are in everybody’s

memory; next, the poet Canalis, whose air she thought Olympian;

d’Arthez, who pleased her by his modesty and absence of assumption;

Vinet, of whom she remarked that he was like a viper in spectacles;

Victorin Hulot, a noted orator of the Left Centre. It was some

time before she could accustom herself to the hum of the various

conversations, which seemed to her like the buzzing of bees around their

hive; but the thing that most amazed her was the general aspect of this

assemblage of legislators, where a singular _laisser-aller_ and a total

absence of dignity would never have led her to suppose she was in the

hall of the representatives of a great people.

It was written that on this day no pain or unpleasantness should be

spared to Madame de l’Estorade. Just before the sitting began, the

Marquise d’Espard, accompanied by Monsieur de Ronquerolles, entered the

peers’ gallery and took her seat beside the countess. Though meeting

constantly in society, the two women could not endure each other.

Madame de l’Estorade despised the spirit of intrigue, the total lack of

principle, and the sour, malevolent nature which the marquise covered

with an elegant exterior; and the marquise despised, to a still

greater degree, what she called the _pot-au-feu_ virtues of Madame de

l’Estorade. It must also be mentioned that Madame de l’Estorade was

thirty-two years old and her beauty was still undimmed, whereas Madame

d’Espard was forty-four, and, in spite of the careful dissimulations of

the toilet, her beauty was fairly at an end.

“You do not often come here, I think,” said Madame d’Espard, after the

usual conventional phrases about the _pleasure_ of their meeting had

passed.

“I never come,” replied Madame de l’Estorade.

“And I am most assiduous,” said Madame d’Espard.

Then, pretending to a sudden recollection, she added,--

“Ah! I forgot; you have a special interest, I think, on this occasion. A

friend of yours is to be _judged_, is he not?”

“Yes; Monsieur de Sallenauve has been to our house several times.”

“How sad it is,” said the marquise, “to see a man who, Monsieur de

Ronquerolles tells me, had the making of a hero in many ways, come down

to the level of the correctional police.”

“His crime so far,” said Madame de l’Estorade, dryly, “consists solely

in his absence.”

“At any rate,” continued the marquise, “he seems to be a man eaten up

by ambition. Before his parliamentary attempt, he made, as you doubtless

know, a matrimonial attempt upon the Lantys, which ended in the

beautiful heiress of that family, into whose good graces he had

insinuated himself, being sent to a convent.”

Madame de l’Estorade was not much surprised at finding that this

history, which Sallenauve had told her as very secret, had reached the

knowledge of Madame d’Espard. The marquise was one of the best

informed women in Paris; her salon, as an old academician had said

mythologically, was the Temple of Fame.

“I think the sitting is about to begin,” said Madame de l’Estorade;

fearing some blow from the claws of the marquise, she was eager to put

an end to the conversation.

The president had rung his bell, the deputies were taking their seats,

the curtain was about to rise. As a faithful narrator of the session we

desire our readers to attend, we think it safer and better in every

way to copy _verbatim_ the report of the debate as given in one of the

morning papers of the following day.

Chamber of Deputies.

In the chair, M. Cointet (vice-president).

(Sitting of May 28.)

At two o’clock the president takes his seat.

M. the Keeper of the Seals, M. the minister of the Interior, M.

the minister of Public Works, are on the ministerial bench.

The minutes of the last session are read, approved, and accepted.

The order of the day is the verification of the powers and the

admission of the deputy elected by the arrondissement of

Arcis-sur-Aube.

_The President_.--M. the reporter, from the Committee on the

elections of the department of the Aube, has the floor.

_The Reporter_.--Gentlemen, the singular and regrettable situation

in which Monsieur de Sallenauve has placed himself has not

terminated in the manner that was hoped and expected last week.

The period of delay expired yesterday; Monsieur de Sallenauve

continues to absent himself from your sittings, and no letter has

reached M. le president asking for further leave of absence. This

indifference to the functions which Monsieur de Sallenauve

appeared to have solicited with so much eagerness [slight

agitation on the Left] would be, in any case, a grave mistake; but

when connected with an accusation that seriously compromises the

deputy elect, it must be regarded as altogether unfortunate for

his reputation. [Murmurs on the Left. Approbation from the

Centre.] Compelled to search for the solution of a difficulty

which may be said to be without precedent in parliamentary annals,

your committee, in the adoption of suitable measures, finds itself

divided into two very distinct opinions. The minority whom I

represent--the committee consisting of but three members--thinks

that it ought to submit to you a resolution which I shall call

radical, and which has for its object the cutting short of the

difficulty by returning the question to its natural judges. Annul

_hic et nunc_ the election of Monsieur de Sallenauve, and send him

back to the voters by whom he was elected and of whom he is so

unfaithful a representative. Such is one of the solutions I have

the honor to present to you. [Agitation on the Left.] The

majority, on the contrary, are of opinion that the will of the

electors cannot be too highly respected, and that the faults of a

man honored by their confidence ought not to be discussed until

the utmost limits of forbearance and indulgence have been passed.

Consequently your committee instruct me to suggest that you grant

to Monsieur de Sallenauve a further delay of fifteen days [murmurs

from the Centre; “Very good! very good!” from the Left]; being

satisfied that if after that delay Monsieur de Sallenauve does not

present himself or give any other sign of existence, it will be

sufficient proof that he has thrown up his election, and the

Chamber need not be dragged on his account into irritating and

useless debates. [Murmurs of various kinds.]

M. le Colonel Franchessini, who during the foregoing speech was

sitting on the ministers’ bench in earnest conversation with the

minister of Public Works, here demanded the floor.

_The President_.--M. de Canalis has already asked for it.

_M. de Canalis_.--Gentlemen, M. de Sallenauve is one of those bold

men who, like myself, are convinced that politics are not

forbidden fruit to any form of intellect, and that in the poet, in

the artist, as well as in the magistrate, the administrator, the

lawyer, the physician, and the property-holder, may be found the

stuff that makes a statesman. In virtue of this community of

opinion, M. de Sallenauve has my entire sympathy, and no one can

be surprised to see me mount this tribune to support the proposal

of the majority of your committee. I cannot, however, agree to

their final conclusion; and the idea of our colleague being

declared, without discussion, dismissed from this Chamber through

the single fact of his absence, prolonged without leave, is

repugnant to my reason and also to my conscience. You are told:

“The absence of M. de Sallenauve is all the more reprehensible

because he is under the odium of a serious accusation.” But

suppose this accusation is the very cause of his absence--[“Ha!

ha!” from the Centre, and laughter.] Allow me to say, gentlemen,

that I am not, perhaps, quite so artless as Messieurs the laughers

imagine. I have one blessing, at any rate: ignoble interpretations

do not come into my mind; and that M. de Sallenauve, with the

eminent position he has filled in the world of art, should seek to

enter the world of politics by means of a crime, is a supposition

which I cannot admit _a priori_. Around a birth like his two

hideous spiders called slander and intrigue have every facility to

spread their toils; and far from admitting that he has fled before

the accusation that now attacks him, I ask myself whether his

absence does not mean that he is now engaged in collecting the

elements of his defence. [Left: “Very good!” “That’s right.”

Ironical laughter in the Centre.] Under that supposition--in my

opinion most probable--so far from arraigning him in consequence

of this absence, ought we not rather to consider it as an act of

deference to the Chamber whose deliberations he did not feel

worthy to share until he found himself in a position to confound

his calumniators?

_A Voice_.--He wants leave of absence for ten years, like

Telemachus, to search for his father. [General laughter.]

_M. de Canalis_.--I did not expect so poetical an interruption;

but since the memory of the Odyssey has been thus evoked, I shall

ask the Chamber to kindly remember that Ulysses, though disguised

as a beggar and loaded with insults, was yet able to string his

bow and easily get the better of his enemies. [Violent murmurs from

the Centre.] I vote for leave of absence for fifteen days, and

that the Chamber be again consulted at the expiration of that

time.

_M. le Colonel Franchessini_.--I do not know if the last speaker

intended to intimidate the Chamber, but, for my part, such

arguments have very little power upon me, and I am always ready to

send them back whence they came. [Left: “Come! come!”]

_The President_.--Colonel, no provocations!

_M. le Colonel Franchessini_.--I am, however, of the opinion of

the speaker who preceded me; I do not think that the delinquent

has fled to escape the accusation against him. Neither that

accusation, nor the effect it will produce upon your minds, nor

even the quashing of his election would be able at this moment to

occupy his mind. Do you wish to know what M. de Sallenauve is

doing in England? Then read the English papers. For the last week

they have rung with the praises of a new prima donna who has just

made her first appearance at the London opera-house. [Violent

murmurs; interruption.]

_A Voice_.--Such gossip is unworthy of this Chamber!

_M. le Colonel Franchessini_.--Gentlemen, being more accustomed to

the frankness of camps than to the reticence of these precincts, I

may perhaps have committed the impropriety of thinking aloud. The

preceding speaker said to you that he believed M. de Sallenauve

was employed in collecting his means of defence; well, I do not

say to you “I believe,” I tell you I _know_ that a rich stranger

succeed in substituting his protection for what which Phidias, our

colleague, was bestowing on his handsome model, an Italian woman

--[Fresh interruption. “Order! order!” “This is intolerable!”]

_A Voice_.--M. le president, silence the speaker!

Colonel Franchessini crosses his arms and waits till the tumult

subsides.

_The President_.--I request the speaker to keep to the question.

_M. le Colonel Franchessini_.--The question! I have not left it.

But, inasmuch as the Chamber refuses to hear me, I declare that I

side with the minority of the committee. It seems to me very

proper to send M. de Sallenauve back to his electors in order to

know whether they intended to send a deputy or a lover to this

Chamber--[“Order! order!” Loud disturbance on the Left. The tumult

increases.]

M. de Canalis hurries to the tribune.

_The President_.--M. le ministre of Public Works has asked for the

floor; as minister of the king he has the first right to be heard.

_M. de Rastignac_.--It has not been without remonstrance on my

part, gentlemen, that this scandal has been brought to your

notice. I endeavored, in the name of the long friendship which

unites me to Colonel Franchessini, to persuade him not to speak on

this delicate subject, lest his parliamentary inexperience,

aggravated in a measure by his witty facility of speech, should

lead him to some very regrettable indiscretion. Such, gentleman,

was the subject of the little conversation you may have seen that

he held with me on my bench before he asked for the floor; and I

myself have asked for the same privilege only in order to remove

from your minds all idea of my complicity in the great mistake he

has just, as I think, committed by condescending to the private

details he has thought fit to relate to this assembly. But as,

against my intention, and I may add against my will, I have

entered the tribune, the Chamber will permit me, perhaps,

--although no ministerial interest is here concerned,--to say a

few words. [Cries from the Centre: “Go on!” “Speak!”]

M. le ministre then went on to say that the conduct of the absent

deputy showed contempt for the Chamber; he was treating it lightly

and cavalierly. M. de Sallenauve had asked for leave of absence;

but how or where had he asked for it? From a foreign country! That

is to say, he began by taking it, and then asked for it! Did he

trouble himself, as is usual in such cases, to give a reason for

the request? No; he merely says, in his letter to your president,

that he is forced to absent himself on “urgent business,”--a very

convenient excuse, on which the Chamber might be depopulated of

half its members. But, supposing that M. de Sallenauve’s business

was really urgent, and that he thought it of a nature not to be

explained in a letter that would necessarily be made public, why

had he not written confidentially to the president, or even

requested a friend in some responsible position, whose simple word

would have sufficed, to assure the Chamber of the necessity of the

deputy’s absence without requiring any statement of private

reasons?

At this point M. de Rastignac’s remarks were interrupted by a

commotion in the corridor to the right. Several deputies left

their seats; others jumped upon the benches, apparently

endeavoring to see something. The minister, after turning to the

president, from whom he seemed to be asking an explanation, went

back to the ministerial bench, where he was immediately surrounded

by a number of the deputies of the Centre, among whom, noticeable

for the vehemence of his gestures, was M. le procureur-general

Vinet. Groups formed in the audience chamber; the sitting was, in

fact, informally suspended.

After a few moments’ delay M. le president rings his bell.

_The Ushers_.--Take your seats, gentlemen.

The deputies hasten on all sides to do so.

_The President_.--M. de Sallenauve has the floor.

M. de Sallenauve, who, during the few moments that the sitting was

interrupted by his entrance, has been talking with M. de Canalis

and M. d’Arthez, goes to the tribune. His manner is modest, but he

shows no sign of embarrassment. Every one is struck by his

resemblance to the portraits of one of the most fiery of the

revolutionary orators.

_A Voice_.--It is Danton--without the small-pox!

_M. de Sallenauve_.--[Profound silence.] Gentlemen, I do not

misjudge my parliamentary value; I know that the persecution

directed apparently against me personally is, in point of fact,

aimed at the political opinions I have the honor to represent.

But, however that may be, my election seems to have been viewed by

the ministry as a matter of some importance. In order to oppose

it, a special agent and special journalists were sent to Arcis;

and a humble employe under government, with a salary of fifteen

hundred francs, was dismissed, after twenty years of faithful and

honorable service, for having aided in my success. [Loud murmurs

from the Centre.] I thank my honorable interrupters, feeling sure

that their loud disapprobation is given to this strange dismissal,

which is not open to the slightest doubt. [Laughter on the Left.]

As for me, gentlemen, who could not be dismissed, I have been

attacked with another weapon,--sagacious calumny, combined with my

fortunate absence--

_The Minister of Public Works_.--Of course the government sent you

out of the country.

_M. de Sallenauve_.--No, Monsieur le ministre. I do not attribute

my absence to either your influence or your suggestions; it was

necessitated by imperious duty, and it had no other instigation or

motive. But, as to the part you have really taken in the

denunciation set on foot against me, I am about to tell the facts,

and the Chamber will consider them. [Close attention.] The law, in

order to protect the independence of the deputy, directs that no

criminal prosecution can be begun against a member of the national

representation without the preliminary consent of the Chamber;

this fact has been turned with great adroitness against me. If the

complaint had been laid before the magistrates, it could not have

been admitted even for an instant; it is simply a bare charge, not

supported by evidence of any kind; and I have never heard that the

public authorities are in the habit of prosecuting citizens on the

mere allegation of the first-comer. We must therefore admire the

subtlety of mind which instantly perceived that, by petitioning

you for leave to prosecute, all the benefits of the accusation,

politically speaking, would be obtained without encountering the

difficulty I have mentioned in the courts. [Excitement.] Now, to

what able parliamentary tactician must we ascribe the honor of

this invention? You know already, gentleman, that it is due

ostensibly to a woman, a peasant-woman, one who labors for her

living; hence the conclusion is that the peasant-women of

Champagne have an intellectual superiority of which, up to this

time, neither you nor I were at all aware. [Laughter.] It must be

said, however, that before coming to Paris to lodge her complaint,

this woman had an interview with the mayor of Arcis, my opponent

on the ministerial side in the late election. From this conference

she obtained certain lights. To which we must add that the mayor,

taking apparently much interest in the charge to be brought

against me, agreed to pay the costs, not only of the

peasant-woman’s trip to Paris, but also those of the village

practitioner by whom she was accompanied. [Left: “Ha! ha!”] This

superior woman having arrived in Paris, with whom did she

immediately communicate? With the special agent sent down to Arcis

by the government to ensure the success of the ministerial

candidate. And who drew up the petition to this honorable Chamber

for the necessary authority to proceed to a criminal prosecution?

Not precisely the special ministerial agent himself, but a

barrister under his dictation, and after a breakfast to which the

peasant-woman and her adviser were invited in order to furnish the

necessary information. [Much excitement. “Hear! hear!”]

_The Minister of Public Works from his seat_.--Without discussing

the truth of these statements, as to which I have personally no

knowledge, I affirm upon my honor that the government is

completely ignorant of the proceedings now related, which it

blames and disavows in the most conclusive manner.

_M. de Sallenauve_.--After the formal declaration which I have had

the good fortune to evoke it would ill become me, gentlemen, to

insist on tracing the responsibility for this intrigue back to the

government. But what I have already said will seem to you natural

when you remember that, as I entered this hall, the minister of

Public Works was in the tribune, taking part, in a most unusual

manner, in a discussion on discipline wholly outside of his

department, and endeavoring to persuade you that I had conducted

myself towards this honorable body with a total want of reverence.

The minister of Public Works said a few words which did not reach

us. Great disturbance.

_M. Victorin Hulot_.--M. le president, have the goodness to

request the minister of Public Works not to interrupt the speaker.

He can answer.

_M. de Sallenauve_.--According to M. le comte de Rastignac, I

showed essential disrespect to the Chamber by asking, in a foreign

country, for leave of absence, which it was obvious I had already

taken before making my request. But, in his extreme desire to find

me to blame, the minister lost sight of the fact that at the time

I left France the Chamber had not met, no president existed, and

therefore in making my request at that time to the president of

this assembly I should simply have addressed a pure abstraction.

[Left: “True!”] As for the insufficiency of the motives with which

I supported my request, I regret to have to say to the Chamber

that I cannot be more explicit even now; because in revealing the

true cause of my absence I should betray the secret of an

honorable man, and not my own. I did not conceal from myself that

by this reticence I exposed my proceedings to mistaken

interpretations,--though I certainly did not expect it to give

rise to accusations as burlesque as they are odious. [Much

excitement.] In point of fact, I was so anxious not to neglect any

of the duties of my new position that I did precisely what the

minister of Public Works reproaches me for not doing. I selected a

man in a most honorable position, who was, like myself, a

repository of the secret I am unable to divulge, and I requested

him to make all necessary explanations to the president of this

Chamber. But, calumny having no doubt worked upon his mind, that

honorable person must have thought it compromising to his name and

dignity to do me this service. The danger to me being now over, I

shall not betray his prudent incognito. Though I was far indeed

from expecting this calculating selfishness, which has painfully

surprised and wounded me, I shall be careful to keep this betrayal

of friendship between myself and his own conscience, which alone

shall reproach him for the wrong he has done me.

At this moment a disturbance occurred in the peers’ gallery; a

lady had fainted; and several deputies, among them a physician,

left the hall hastily. The sitting was momentarily suspended.

_The President_.--Ushers, open the ventilators. It is want of air

that has caused this unfortunate accident. M. de Sallenauve, be

good enough to resume your speech.

_M. de Sallenauve_.--Two words, gentleman, and I have finished. I

think the petition to authorize a criminal prosecution has already

lost something of its weight in the minds of my least cordial

colleagues. But I have here a letter from the Romilly

peasant-woman, my relation, duly signed and authenticated,

withdrawing her charge and confirming all the explanations I have

just had the honor to give you. I might read this letter aloud to

you, but I think it more becoming to place it in the hands of M. le

president. [“Very good! very good!”] As for my illegal absence, I

returned to Paris early this morning, and I could have been in my

seat at the opening of the Chamber; but, as M. de Canalis has told

you, I had it much at heart not to appear in this hall until I

could disperse the cloud which has so strangely appeared around my

reputation. It has taken me the whole morning to obtain these

papers. And now, gentlemen, you have to decide whether a few

hours’ delay in taking his seat in this Chamber justifies you in

sending a colleague back to his electors. But after all, whatever

is done, whether some persist in thinking me a forger, or a

libertine, or merely a negligent deputy, I feel no anxiety about

the verdict of my electors. I can confidently assert that after a

delay of a few weeks I shall return to you.

_Cries on all sides_.--The vote! the vote!

On leaving the tribune M. de Sallenauve receives many

congratulations.

_The President_.--I put to vote the admission of M. de Sallenauve

as the deputy elected by the arrondissement of Arcis.

Nearly the whole Chamber rises and votes the admission; a few

deputies of the Centre alone abstain from taking part in the

demonstration.

M. de Sallenauve is admitted and takes the oath.

_The President_.--The order of the day calls for the reading of

the Address to the Throne, but the chairman of the committee

appointed to prepare it informs me that the document in question

cannot be communicated to the Chamber before to-morrow. Nothing

else being named in the order of the day, I declare this sitting

adjourned.

The Chamber rose at half-past four o’clock.

TRANSLATOR’S NOTE

Note.--“The Deputy of Arcis,” of which Balzac wrote and published

the first part in 1847, was left unfinished at his death. He

designated M. Charles Rabou, editor of the “Revue de Paris,” as

the person to take his notes and prepare the rest of the volume

for the press. It is instructive to a student of Balzac to see how

disconnected and out of proportion the story becomes in these

later parts,--showing plainly that the master’s hand was in the

habit of pruning away half, if not more, of what it had written,

or--to change the metaphor and give the process in his own

language--that he put _les grands pots dans les petits pots_, the

quarts into the pint pots. “If a thing can be done in one line

instead of two,” he says, “I try to do it.”

Some parts of this conclusion are evidently added by M. Rabou, and

are not derived from Balzac at all,--especially the unnecessary

reincarnation of Vautrin. There is no trace of the master’s hand

here. The character is made so silly and puerile, and is so out of

keeping with Balzac’s strong portrait, which never weakens, that

the translator has thought best, in justice to Vautrin, to omit

all that is not absolutely necessary to connect the story.

ADDENDUM

The following personages appear in other stories of the Human Comedy.

Arthez, Daniel d’ A Distinguished Provincial at Paris

Letters of Two Brides

The Secrets of a Princess

Beauvisage (tenant)

The Gondreville Mystery

Beauvisage, Phileas

Cousin Betty

Bixiou, Jean-Jacques

The Purse

A Bachelor’s Establishment

The Government Clerks

Modeste Mignon

Scenes from a Courtesan’s Life

The Firm of Nucingen

The Muse of the Department

Cousin Betty

Beatrix

A Man of Business

Gaudissart II.

The Unconscious Humorists

Cousin Pons

Blondet, Virginie

Jealousies of a Country Town

The Secrets of a Princess

The Peasantry

A Distinguished Provincial at Paris

Another Study of Woman

A Daughter of Eve

Brandon, Lady Marie Augusta

The Lily of the Valley

La Grenadiere

Bridau, Joseph

The Purse

A Bachelor’s Establishment

A Distinguished Provincial at Paris

A Start in Life

Modeste Mignon

Another Study of Woman

Pierre Grassou

Letters of Two Brides

Cousin Betty

Cadine, Jenny

Cousin Betty

Beatrix

The Unconscious Humorists

Camps, Octave de

Madame Firmiani

Camps, Madame Octave de

Madame Firmiani

The Government Clerks

A Woman of Thirty

A Daughter of Eve

Canalis, Constant-Cyr-Melchior, Baron de

Letters of Two Brides

A Distinguished Provincial at Paris

Modeste Mignon

The Magic Skin

Another Study of Woman

A Start in Life

Beatrix

The Unconscious Humorists

Carigliano, Duchesse de

At the Sign of the Cat and Racket

A Distinguished Provincial at Paris

The Peasantry

Chargeboeuf, Melchior-Rene, Vicomte de

The Muse of the Department

Chocardelle, Mademoiselle

Beatrix

A Prince of Bohemia

A Man of Business

Cousin Betty

Cinq-Cygne, Laurence, Comtesse (afterwards Marquise de)

The Gondreville Mystery

The Secrets of a Princess

The Seamy Side of History

Cointet, Boniface

Lost Illusions

The Firm of Nucingen

Collin, Jacques

Father Goriot

Lost Illusions

A Distinguished Provincial at Paris

Scenes from a Courtesan’s Life

Dionis

Ursule Mirouet

Estorade, Louis, Chevalier, then Vicomte and Comte de l’

Letters of Two Brides

Estorade, Madame de l’

Letters of Two Brides

Ursule Mirouet

Estorade, Armand de l’

Letters of Two Brides

Fontanon, Abbe

A Second Home

The Government Clerks

Honorine

Franchessini, Colonel

Father Goriot

Gaston, Marie

La Grenadiere

Letters of Two Brides

Giguet, Colonel

The Gondreville Mystery

Gobseck, Sarah Van

Gobseck

Cesar Birotteau

The Maranas

Scenes from a Courtesan’s Life

Gondreville, Malin, Comte de

The Gondreville Mystery

A Start in Life

Domestic Peace

Gothard

The Gondreville Mystery

Goujet, Abbe

The Gondreville Mystery

Grevin

A Start in Life

The Gondreville Mystery

Hauteserre, D’

The Gondreville Mystery

Hortense

A Man of Business

Hulot, Victorin

Cousin Betty

Keller, Francois

Domestic Peace

Cesar Birotteau

Eugenie Grandet

The Government Clerks

Keller, Madame Francois

Domestic Peace

The Thirteen

La Bastie la Briere, Madame Ernest de

Modeste Mignon

Cousin Betty

Lanty, Comte de

Sarrasine

Lanty, Comtesse de

Sarrasine

Lanty, Marianina de

Sarrasine

Lanty, Filippo de

Sarrasine

La Roche-Hugon, Martial de

Domestic Peace

The Peasantry

A Daughter of Eve

The Middle Classes

Cousin Betty

Lenoncourt-Givry, Duc de

Letters of Two Brides

Cousin Betty

Marest, Frederic

A Start in Life

The Seamy Side of History

Marion (of Arcis)

The Gondreville Mystery

Marion (brother)

The Gondreville Mystery

Mary

Letters of Two Brides

Maufrigneuse, Duchesse de

The Secrets of a Princess

Modeste Mignon

Jealousies of a Country Town

The Muse of the Department

Scenes from a Courtesan’s Life

Letters of Two Brides

Another Study of Woman

The Gondreville Mystery

Maufrigneuse, Georges de

The Secrets of a Princess

The Gondreville Mystery

Beatrix

Maufrigneuse, Berthe de

Beatrix

The Gondreville Mystery

Michu, Francois

The Gondreville Mystery

Jealousies of a Country Town

Michu, Madame Francois

The Gondreville Mystery

Montriveau, General Marquis Armand de

The Thirteen

Father Goriot

Lost Illusions

A Distinguished Provincial at Paris

Another Study of Woman

Pierrette

Nucingen, Baronne Delphine de

Father Goriot

The Thirteen

Eugenie Grandet

Cesar Birotteau

Melmoth Reconciled

Lost Illusions

A Distinguished Provincial at Paris

The Commission in Lunacy

Scenes from a Courtesan’s Life

Modeste Mignon

The Firm of Nucingen

Another Study of Woman

A Daughter of Eve

Philippe

Letters of Two Brides

Rastignac, Eugene de

Father Goriot

A Distinguished Provincial at Paris

Scenes from a Courtesan’s Life

The Ball at Sceaux

The Commission in Lunacy

A Study of Woman

Another Study of Woman

The Magic Skin

The Secrets of a Princess

A Daughter of Eve

The Gondreville Mystery

The Firm of Nucingen

Cousin Betty

The Unconscious Humorists

Rastignac, Laure-Rose and Agathe de

Father Goriot

Lost Illusions

Restaud, Ernest de

Gobseck

Restaud, Madame Ernest de

Gobseck

Restaud, Felix-Georges de

Gobseck

Rhetore, Duc Alphonse de

A Bachelor’s Establishment

A Distinguished Provincial at Paris

Scenes from a Courtesan’s Life

Letters of Two Brides

Albert Savarus

Ronquerolles, Marquis de

The Imaginary Mistress

The Peasantry

Ursule Mirouet

A Woman of Thirty

Another Study of Woman

The Thirteen

Saint-Hereen, Comtesse Moina de

A Woman of Thirty

A Daughter of Eve

Sallenauve, Comtesse de

Letters of Two Brides

Sarrasine, Ernest-Jean

Sarrasine

Stidmann

Modeste Mignon

Beatrix

Cousin Betty

Cousin Pons

The Unconscious Humorists

Suzon

A Man of Business

Tillet, Ferdinand du

Cesar Birotteau

The Firm of Nucingen

The Middle Classes

A Bachelor’s Establishment

Pierrette

Melmoth Reconciled

A Distinguished Provincial at Paris

The Secrets of a Princess

A Daughter of Eve

Cousin Betty

The Unconscious Humorists

Trailles, Comte Maxime de

Cesar Birotteau

Father Goriot

Gobseck

Ursule Mirouet

A Man of Business

The Secrets of a Princess

Cousin Betty

Beatrix

The Unconscious Humorists

Troubert, Abbe Hyacinthe

The Vicar of Tours

Varlet

The Gondreville Mystery

Vien, Joseph-Marie

Sarrasine

Vinet

Pierrette

The Middle Classes-

Cousin Pons

Vinet, Olivier

Cousin Pons

The Middle Classes

Zambinella

Sarrasine