You ought to be very happy," she added in an undertone to Lisbeth.
"Everybody is talking of Monsieur Wenceslas Steinbock."
"A great deal too much," replied she in her clear tones. "Monsieur is
departing.--If it were only a matter of charming him so far as to defy
the attractions of Paris, I know my power; but they say that in order
to secure the services of such an artist, the Emperor Nichols has
pardoned him----"
"Nonsense!" said the Baroness.
"When did you hear that?" asked Hortense, who felt as if her heart had
the cramp.
"Well," said the villainous Lisbeth, "a person to whom he is bound by
the most sacred ties--his wife--wrote yesterday to tell him so. He
wants to be off. Oh, he will be a great fool to give up France to go
to Russia!--"
Hortense looked at her mother, but her head sank on one side; the
Baroness was only just in time to support her daughter, who dropped
fainting, and as white as her lace kerchief.
"Lisbeth! you have killed my child!" cried the Baroness. "You were
born to be our curse!"
"Bless me! what fault of mine is this, Adeline?" replied Lisbeth, as
she rose with a menacing aspect, of which the Baroness, in her alarm,
took no notice.
"I was wrong," said Adeline, supporting the girl. "Ring."
At this instant the door opened, the women both looked round, and saw
Wenceslas Steinbock, who had been admitted by the cook in the maid's
absence.
"Hortense!" cried the artist, with one spring to the group of women.
And he kissed his betrothed before her mother's eyes, on the forehead,
and so reverently, that the Baroness could not be angry. It was a
better restorative than any smelling salts. Hortense opened her eyes,
saw Wenceslas, and her color came back. In a few minutes she had quite
recovered.
"So this was your secret?" said Lisbeth, smiling at Wenceslas, and
affecting to guess the facts from her two cousins' confusion.
"But how did you steal away my lover?" said she, leading Hortense into
the garden.
Hortense artlessly told the romance of her love. Her father and
mother, she said, being convinced that Lisbeth would never marry, had
authorized the Count's visits. Only Hortense, like a full-blown Agnes,
attributed to chance her purchase of the group and the introduction of
the artist, who, by her account, had insisted on knowing the name of
his first purchaser.
Presently Steinbock came out to join the cousins, and thanked the old
maid effusively for his prompt release. Lisbeth replied Jesuitically
that the creditor having given very vague promises, she had not hoped
to be able to get him out before the morrow, and that the person who
had lent her the money, ashamed, perhaps, of such mean conduct, had
been beforehand with her. The old maid appeared to be perfectly
content, and congratulated Wenceslas on his happiness.
"You bad boy!" said she, before Hortense and her mother, "if you had
only told me the evening before last that you loved my cousin
Hortense, and that she loved you, you would have spared me many tears.
I thought that you were deserting your old friend, your governess;
while, on the contrary, you are to become my cousin; henceforth, you
will be connected with me, remotely, it is true, but by ties that
amply justify the feelings I have for you." And she kissed Wenceslas
on the forehead.
Hortense threw herself into Lisbeth's arms and melted into tears.
"I owe my happiness to you," said she, "and I will never forget it."
"Cousin Betty," said the Baroness, embracing Lisbeth in her excitement
at seeing matters so happily settled, "the Baron and I owe you a debt
of gratitude, and we will pay it. Come and talk things over with me,"
she added, leading her away.
So Lisbeth, to all appearances, was playing the part of a good angel
to the whole family; she was adored by Crevel and Hulot, by Adeline
and Hortense.
"We wish you to give up working," said the Baroness. "If you earn
forty sous a day, Sundays excepted, that makes six hundred francs a
year. Well, then, how much have you saved?"
"Four thousand five hundred francs."
"Poor Betty!" said her cousin.
She raised her eyes to heaven, so deeply was she moved at the thought
of all the labor and privation such a sum must represent accumulated
during thirty years.
Lisbeth, misunderstanding the meaning of the exclamation, took it as
the ironical pity of the successful woman, and her hatred was
strengthened by a large infusion of venom at the very moment when her
cousin had cast off her last shred of distrust of the tyrant of her
childhood.
"We will add ten thousand five hundred francs to that sum," said
Adeline, "and put it in trust so that you shall draw the interest for
life with reversion to Hortense. Thus, you will have six hundred
francs a year."
Lisbeth feigned the utmost satisfaction. When she went in, her
handkerchief to her eyes, wiping away tears of joy, Hortense told her
of all the favors being showered on Wenceslas, beloved of the family.
So when the Baron came home, he found his family all present; for the
Baroness had formally accepted Wenceslas by the title of Son, and the
wedding was fixed, if her husband should approve, for a day a
fortnight hence. The moment he came into the drawing-room, Hulot was
rushed at by his wife and daughter, who ran to meet him, Adeline to
speak to him privately, and Hortense to kiss him.
"You have gone too far in pledging me to this, madame," said the Baron
sternly. "You are not married yet," he added with a look at Steinbock,
who turned pale.
"He has heard of my imprisonment," said the luckless artist to
himself.
"Come, children," said he, leading his daughter and the young man into
the garden; they all sat down on the moss-eaten seat in the
summer-house.
"Monsieur le Comte, do you love my daughter as well as I loved her
mother?" he asked.
"More, monsieur," said the sculptor.
"Her mother was a peasant's daughter, and had not a farthing of her
own."
"Only give me Mademoiselle Hortense just as she is, without a
trousseau even----"
"So I should think!" said the Baron, smiling. "Hortense is the
daughter of the Baron Hulot d'Ervy, Councillor of State, high up in
the War Office, Grand Commander of the Legion of Honor, and the
brother to Count Hulot, whose glory is immortal, and who will ere long
be Marshal of France! And--she has a marriage portion.
"It is true," said the impassioned artist. "I must seem very
ambitious. But if my dear Hortense were a laborer's daughter, I would
marry her----"
"That is just what I wanted to know," replied the Baron. "Run away,
Hortense, and leave me to talk business with Monsieur le Comte.--He
really loves you, you see!"
"Oh, papa, I was sure you were only in jest," said the happy girl.
"My dear Steinbock," said the Baron, with elaborate grace of diction
and the most perfect manners, as soon as he and the artist were alone,
"I promised my son a fortune of two hundred thousand francs, of which
the poor boy has never had a sou; and he never will get any of it. My
daughter's fortune will also be two hundred thousand francs, for which
you will give a receipt----"
"Yes, Monsieur le Baron."
"You go too fast," said Hulot. "Have the goodness to hear me out. I
cannot expect from a son-in-law such devotion as I look for from my
son. My son knew exactly all I could and would do for his future
promotion: he will be a Minister, and will easily make good his two
hundred thousand francs. But with you, young man, matters are
different. I shall give you a bond for sixty thousand francs in State
funds at five per cent, in your wife's name. This income will be
diminished by a small charge in the form of an annuity to Lisbeth; but
she will not live long; she is consumptive, I know. Tell no one; it is
a secret; let the poor soul die in peace.--My daughter will have a
trousseau worth twenty thousand francs; her mother will give her six
thousand francs worth of diamonds.
"Monsieur, you overpower me!" said Steinbock, quite bewildered.
"As to the remaining hundred and twenty thousand francs----"
"Say no more, monsieur," said Wenceslas. "I ask only for my beloved
Hortense----"
"Will you listen to me, effervescent youth!--As to the remaining
hundred and twenty thousand francs, I have not got them; but you will
have them--"
"Monsieur?"
"You will get them from the Government, in payment for commissions
which I will secure for you, I pledge you my word of honor. You are to
have a studio, you see, at the Government depot. Exhibit a few fine
statues, and I will get you received at the Institute. The highest
personages have a regard for my brother and for me, and I hope to
succeed in securing for you a commission for sculpture at Versailles
up to a quarter of the whole sum. You will have orders from the City
of Paris and from the Chamber of Peers; in short, my dear fellow, you
will have so many that you will be obliged to get assistants. In that
way I shall pay off my debt to you. You must say whether this way of
giving a portion will suit you; whether you are equal to it."
"I am equal to making a fortune for my wife single-handed if all else
failed!" cried the artist-nobleman.
"That is what I admire!" cried the Baron. "High-minded youth that
fears nothing. Come," he added, clasping hands with the young sculptor
to conclude the bargain, "you have my consent. We will sign the
contract on Sunday next, and the wedding shall be on the following
Saturday, my wife's fete-day."
"It is alright," said the Baroness to her daughter, who stood glued to
the window. "Your suitor and your father are embracing each other."
On going home in the evening, Wenceslas found the solution of the
mystery of his release. The porter handed him a thick sealed packet,
containing the schedule of his debts, with a signed receipt affixed at
the bottom of the writ, and accompanied by this letter:--
"MY DEAR WENCESLAS,--I went to fetch you at ten o'clock this
morning to introduce you to a Royal Highness who wishes to see
you. There I learned that the duns had had you conveyed to a
certain little domain--chief town, _Clichy Castle_.
"So off I went to Leon de Lora, and told him, for a joke, that you
could not leave your country quarters for lack of four thousand
francs, and that you would spoil your future prospects if you did
not make your bow to your royal patron. Happily, Bridau was there
--a man of genius, who has known what it is to be poor, and has
heard your story. My boy, between them they have found the money,
and I went off to pay the Turk who committed treason against
genius by putting you in quod. As I had to be at the Tuileries at
noon, I could not wait to see you sniffing the outer air. I know
you to be a gentleman, and I answered for you to my two friends
--but look them up to-morrow.
"Leon and Bridau do not want your cash; they will ask you to do
them each a group--and they are right. At least, so thinks the man
who wishes he could sign himself your rival, but is only your
faithful ally,
"STIDMANN.
"P. S.--I told the Prince you were away, and would not return till
to-morrow, so he said, 'Very good--to-morrow.'"
Count Wenceslas went to bed in sheets of purple, without a rose-leaf
to wrinkle them, that Favor can make for us--Favor, the halting
divinity who moves more slowly for men of genius than either Justice
or Fortune, because Jove has not chosen to bandage her eyes. Hence,
lightly deceived by the display of impostors, and attracted by their
frippery and trumpets, she spends the time in seeing them and the
money in paying them which she ought to devote to seeking out men of
merit in the nooks where they hide.
It will now be necessary to explain how Monsieur le Baron Hulot had
contrived to count up his expenditure on Hortense's wedding portion,
and at the same time to defray the frightful cost of the charming
rooms where Madame Marneffe was to make her home. His financial scheme
bore that stamp of talent which leads prodigals and men in love into
the quagmires where so many disasters await them. Nothing can
demonstrate more completely the strange capacity communicated by vice,
to which we owe the strokes of skill which ambitious or voluptuous men
can occasionally achieve--or, in short, any of the Devil's pupils.
On the day before, old Johann Fischer, unable to pay thirty thousand
francs drawn for on him by his nephew, had found himself under the
necessity of stopping payment unless the Baron could remit the sum.
This ancient worthy, with the white hairs of seventy years, had such
blind confidence in Hulot--who, to the old Bonapartist, was an
emanation from the Napoleonic sun--that he was calmly pacing his
anteroom with the bank clerk, in the little ground-floor apartment
that he rented for eight hundred francs a year as the headquarters of
his extensive dealings in corn and forage.
"Marguerite is gone to fetch the money from close by," said he.
The official, in his gray uniform braided with silver, was so
convinced of the old Alsatian's honesty, that he was prepared to leave
the thirty thousand francs' worth of bills in his hands; but the old
man would not let him go, observing that the clock had not yet struck
eight. A cab drew up, the old man rushed into the street, and held out
his hand to the Baron with sublime confidence--Hulot handed him out
thirty thousand-franc notes.
"Go on three doors further, and I will tell you why," said Fischer.
"Here, young man," he said, returning to count out the money to the
bank emissary, whom he then saw to the door.
When the clerk was out of sight, Fischer called back the cab
containing his august nephew, Napoleon's right hand, and said, as he
led him into the house:
"You do not want them to know at the Bank of France that you paid me
the thirty thousand francs, after endorsing the bills?--It was bad
enough to see them signed by such a man as you!--"
"Come to the bottom of your little garden, Father Fischer," said the
important man. "You are hearty?" he went on, sitting down under a vine
arbor and scanning the old man from head to foot, as a dealer in human
flesh scans a substitute for the conscription.
"Ay, hearty enough for a tontine," said the lean little old man; his
sinews were wiry, and his eye bright.
"Does heat disagree with you?"
"Quite the contrary."
"What do you say to Africa?"
"A very nice country!--The French went there with the little Corporal"
(Napoleon).
"To get us all out of the present scrape, you must go to Algiers,"
said the Baron.
"And how about my business?"
"An official in the War Office, who has to retire, and has not enough
to live on with his pension, will buy your business."
"And what am I to do in Algiers?"
"Supply the Commissariat with victuals, corn, and forage; I have your
commission ready filled in and signed. You can collect supplies in the
country at seventy per cent below the prices at which you can credit
us."
"How shall we get them?"
"Oh, by raids, by taxes in kind, and the Khaliphat.--The country is
little known, though we settled there eight years ago; Algeria
produces vast quantities of corn and forage. When this produce belongs
to Arabs, we take it from them under various pretences; when it
belongs to us, the Arabs try to get it back again. There is a great
deal of fighting over the corn, and no one ever knows exactly how much
each party has stolen from the other. There is not time in the open
field to measure the corn as we do in the Paris market, or the hay as
it is sold in the Rue d'Enfer. The Arab chiefs, like our Spahis,
prefer hard cash, and sell the plunder at a very low price. The
Commissariat needs a fixed quantity and must have it. It winks at
exorbitant prices calculated on the difficulty of procuring food, and
the dangers to which every form of transport is exposed. That is
Algiers from the army contractor's point of view.
"It is a muddle tempered by the ink-bottle, like every incipient
government. We shall not see our way through it for another ten years
--we who have to do the governing; but private enterprise has sharp
eyes.--So I am sending you there to make a fortune; I give you the
job, as Napoleon put an impoverished Marshal at the head of a kingdom
where smuggling might be secretly encouraged.
"I am ruined, my dear Fischer; I must have a hundred thousand francs
within a year."
"I see no harm in getting it out of the Bedouins," said the Alsatian
calmly. "It was always done under the Empire----"
"The man who wants to buy your business will be here this morning, and
pay you ten thousand francs down," the Baron went on. "That will be
enough, I suppose, to take you to Africa?"
The old man nodded assent.
"As to capital out there, be quite easy. I will draw the remainder of
the money due if I find it necessary."
"All I have is yours--my very blood," said old Fischer.
"Oh, do not be uneasy," said Hulot, fancying that his uncle saw more
clearly than was the fact. "As to our excise dealings, your character
will not be impugned. Everything depends on the authority at your
back; now I myself appointed the authorities out there; I am sure of
them. This, Uncle Fischer, is a dead secret between us. I know you
well, and I have spoken out without concealment or circumlocution."
"It shall be done," said the old man. "And it will go on----?"
"For two years, You will have made a hundred thousand francs of your
own to live happy on in the Vosges."
"I will do as you wish; my honor is yours," said the little old man
quietly.
"That is the sort of man I like.--However, you must not go till you
have seen your grand-niece happily married. She is to be a Countess."
But even taxes and raids and the money paid by the War Office clerk
for Fischer's business could not forthwith provide sixty thousand
francs to give Hortense, to say nothing of her trousseau, which was to
cost about five thousand, and the forty thousand spent--or to be spent
--on Madame Marneffe.
Where, then had the Baron found the thirty thousand francs he had just
produced? This was the history.
A few days previously Hulot had insured his life for the sum of a
hundred and fifty thousand francs, for three years, in two separate
companies. Armed with the policies, of which he paid the premium, he
had spoken as follows to the Baron de Nucingen, a peer of the Chamber,
in whose carriage he found himself after a sitting, driving home, in
fact, to dine with him:--
"Baron, I want seventy thousand francs, and I apply to you. You must
find some one to lend his name, to whom I will make over the right to
draw my pay for three years; it amounts to twenty-five thousand francs
a year--that is, seventy-five thousand francs.--You will say, 'But you
may die'"--the banker signified his assent--"Here, then, is a policy
of insurance for a hundred and fifty thousand francs, which I will
deposit with you till you have drawn up the eighty thousand francs,"
said Hulot, producing the document form his pocket.
"But if you should lose your place?" said the millionaire Baron,
laughing.
The other Baron--not a millionaire--looked grave.
"Be quite easy; I only raised the question to show you that I was not
devoid of merit in handing you the sum. Are you so short of cash? for
the Bank will take your signature."
"My daughter is to be married," said Baron Hulot, "and I have no
fortune--like every one else who remains in office in these thankless
times, when five hundred ordinary men seated on benches will never
reward the men who devote themselves to the service as handsomely as
the Emperor did."
"Well, well; but you had Josepha on your hands!" replied Nucingen,
"and that accounts for everything. Between ourselves, the Duc
d'Herouville has done you a very good turn by removing that leech from
sucking your purse dry. 'I have known what that is, and can pity your
case,'" he quoted. "Take a friend's advice: Shut up shop, or you will
be done for."
This dirty business was carried out in the name of one Vauvinet, a
small money-lender; one of those jobbers who stand forward to screen
great banking houses, like the little fish that is said to attend the
shark. This stock-jobber's apprentice was so anxious to gain the
patronage of Monsieur le Baron Hulot, that he promised the great man
to negotiate bills of exchange for thirty thousand francs at eighty
days, and pledged himself to renew them four times, and never pass
them out of his hands.
Fischer's successor was to pay forty thousand francs for the house and
the business, with the promise that he should supply forage to a
department close to Paris.
This was the desperate maze of affairs into which a man who had
hitherto been absolutely honest was led by his passions--one of the
best administrative officials under Napoleon--peculation to pay the
money-lenders, and borrowing of the money-lenders to gratify his
passions and provide for his daughter. All the efforts of this
elaborate prodigality were directed at making a display before Madame
Marneffe, and to playing Jupiter to this middle-class Danae. A man
could not expend more activity, intelligence, and presence of mind in
the honest acquisition of a fortune than the Baron displayed in
shoving his head into a wasp's nest: He did all the business of his
department, he hurried on the upholsterers, he talked to the workmen,
he kept a sharp lookout on the smallest details of the house in the
Rue Vanneau. Wholly devoted to Madame Marneffe, he nevertheless
attended the sittings of the Chambers; he was everywhere at once, and
neither his family nor anybody else discovered where his thoughts
were.
Adeline, quite amazed to hear that her uncle was rescued, and to see a
handsome sum figure in the marriage-contract, was not altogether easy,
in spite of her joy at seeing her daughter married under such
creditable circumstances. But, on the day before the wedding, fixed by
the Baron to coincide with Madame Marneffe's removal to her new
apartment, Hector allayed his wife's astonishment by this ministerial
communication:--
"Now, Adeline, our girl is married; all our anxieties on the subject
are at an end. The time is come for us to retire from the world: I
shall not remain in office more than three years longer--only the time
necessary to secure my pension. Why, henceforth, should we be at any
unnecessary expense? Our apartment costs us six thousand francs a year
in rent, we have four servants, we eat thirty thousand francs' worth
of food in a year. If you want me to pay off my bills--for I have
pledged my salary for the sums I needed to give Hortense her little
money, and pay off your uncle----"
"You did very right!" said she, interrupting her husband, and kissing
his hands.
This explanation relieved Adeline of all her fears.
"I shall have to ask some little sacrifices of you," he went on,
disengaging his hands and kissing his wife's brow. "I have found in
the Rue Plumet a very good flat on the first floor, handsome,
splendidly paneled, at only fifteen hundred francs a year, where you
would only need one woman to wait on you, and I could be quite content
with a boy."
"Yes, my dear."
"If we keep house in a quiet way, keeping up a proper appearance of
course, we should not spend more than six thousand francs a year,
excepting my private account, which I will provide for."
The generous-hearted woman threw her arms round her husband's neck in
her joy.
"How happy I shall be, beginning again to show you how truly I love
you!" she exclaimed. "And what a capital manager you are!"
"We will have the children to dine with us once a week. I, as you
know, rarely dine at home. You can very well dine twice a week with
Victorin and twice a week with Hortense. And, as I believe, I may
succeed in making matters up completely between Crevel and us; we can
dine once a week with him. These five dinners and our own at home will
fill up the week all but one day, supposing that we may occasionally
be invited to dine elsewhere."
"I shall save a great deal for you," said Adeline.
"Oh!" he cried, "you are the pearl of women!"
"My kind, divine Hector, I shall bless you with my latest breath,"
said she, "for you have done well for my dear Hortense."
This was the beginning of the end of the beautiful Madame Hulot's
home; and, it may be added, of her being totally neglected, as Hulot
had solemnly promised Madame Marneffe.